Page 1 of Lana

PROLOGUE

“Come here, boy,” Mitch yelled. He’d lost sight of his faithful companion—his one-year-old German shepherd puppy, Gus—a few minutes ago. His eyes swept over the dense woods that backed onto his property. It was farther into the woods than Mitch usually came, but Gus had been full of energy and had already destroyed the corner of his couch this morning, so he decided to let him run a little farther today. It was Mitch’s day off too, so with little more to do than hang out with his best friend, he was happy to roam the woods for an extra hour or two. As the local sheriff, days off were rare even in a town as small as Redwater.

Mitch heard no rustling of the trees or bounding footsteps. His eyebrows wove together. “Gus! Gus, come!” he yelled again as he continued along the less-taken path, which was almost completely overgrown.

Another minute passed and Gus still didn’t return. Mitch shook his head; Gus always came back. He was so obedient, due to the hours of training Mitch had put in over the first year of Gus’s life.

A man and his dog: that summed up Mitch and Gus perfectly.

Mitch pulled his phone from his pocket, loading the tracker app. He always put Gus’s GPS tracker collar on him when they went into the woods—he’d never needed it, but today he was grateful he had. Why hadn’t Gus come back?

The app took a second to load and Mitch’s eyes widened when he saw the green dot on the screen, more than a mile from where Mitch was standing. No wonder Gus hadn’t come back—he couldn’t hear Mitch. But why had he run so far away? Maybe he’d been chasing something?

Mitch shook his head and started a jog toward the green dot. Interestingly, after a few minutes of his eyes flicking between the overgrown ground of the woods and his phone, Gus wasn’t moving much. He seemed to be hovering around an area.

Mitch chewed on his lip, increasing his pace. This was unusual at best, but Mitch couldn’t really say he was worried. Gus had probably found a dead animal... and Mitch didn’t put it past him to be eating it or rolling in it. He cringed at that thought—his puppy would need a bath this afternoon.

He picked up his pace, veering off the path to cut across the woods in a straight line to Gus. He hoped this wasn’t a mistake or he could be in for a long jog; he just hoped Gus didn’t run off again. Obviously, something had stolen his attention.

Mitch heard Gus bark before he saw him and it almost caused him to trip. It was not Gus’s usual, playful bark. He was... growling.

The hairs on the back of Mitch’s neck stood up and he resisted the urge to call his puppy back to him. If there was a threat—maybe a bear—Mitch would need the element of surprise.

Gus’s fierce growl echoed through the woods now and, even without the GPS app, Mitch knew he was close. He slowed and drew his weapon from his back pocket. He never left home without it, even when he was running his dog.

He inched forward, his eyes darting from tree to tree, his pulse unusually elevated.

Was Gus hurt?

Was he trapped in something?

He didn’t think so based on the growl Gus was emitting.

He sounded afraid, not in pain.

Regardless, Mitch knew one thing: he needed to get to his dog.

He darted forward, using the trees for cover, moving as silently as he could.

He saw Gus poised on the path, his body rigid, like he was ready to attack. Mitch’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t see what the dog was barking at. He stepped forward to get a closer look, his weapon raised, his finger on the trigger.

When he was close to Gus and still couldn’t see a threat, he gently called his name.

“Gus! Come here, boy!” Mitch said, keeping his voice even and commanding.

But Gus still didn’t come. In fact, his body seemed to tense even more and he crouched lower. It was a protective stance, Mitch knew.

Mitch continued to inch forward, his heart racing, his finger on the trigger.

“Easy, boy,” he said as he came up behind Gus.

He was less than ten steps away from Gus when he realized what had caught his puppy’s attention.

He felt cold and sick all at once. His eyes widened and his stomach churned violently.

He reached out, grabbing Gus’s collar. “Easy, boy,” he said gently as Gus tried to squirm out of his reach. But Mitch had a tight hold on him and wasn’t letting go. He lowered his weapon for a second to hook a lead onto Gus’s collar then looked back at the trees. His stomach curdled.

This didn’t happen in Redwater.

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