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Candace took a step back. “That’s monstrous.”
“I know. Where is Glenn’s favorite place to hunt? That would be a good start.”
Candace’s gaze darted from left to right, and she finally shrugged. “They usually go out by Fourteen Mile Point.”
Annie should have thought of that. Jon had found Eddie Poole out that way. It would take a while to get back into that area in the dark, but they needed to go now.
Twenty-Nine
At just after ten, the light was starting to soften over the north woods. Jon switched on a powerful flashlight before they stepped into the deeper darkness of the forest. It felt like a wild-goose chase, and he knew Annie held even less hope than he did. But they had to try. He wanted to lift that heavy pall of grief and guilt from her blue eyes if he could.
His boots tromping on the ground released the scent of pine and moss. He held back branches for Annie when he could, but much of the time, she plowed through quickly as if she knew where she was going. And maybe she did. This wilderness area was well-known to her, though the gloom would distort it.
She stopped and examined tracks in the dirt under a large oak tree. “Several people were here, likely men from the size of the prints.”
Jon didn’t answer. They both knew most of the prints would be left from legitimate hunters. There was no way to figure out what had been happening in here. If they found something belonging to Sarah, it would be reason enough to call in more searchers than the two of them. Annie hadn’t wanted to bother Mason or the SAR dog teams when the chance of successwas so slight. They didn’t know for sure Sarah had ever been here.
They trekked deeper into the woods until the only light bouncing along the ground was the beam from his flashlight. The thick foliage blocked any bit of moonlight or starlight. Jon wasn’t sure which way was out and which led deeper into the forest.
Annie followed a slight deer trail that veered off to their left. “Let’s try this way.”
“I’m not sure how we’ll get out of here.”
“I know the way.”
Mosquitoes swarmed his head, and he waved them away. There was repellent in his backpack, but he hadn’t bothered with spraying it on, so he paused long enough to remedy that oversight before jogging to catch up with the noise of Annie’s passage through thick brush. The sound of waves hitting rocks rose above the buzz of the insects, and he knew they’d gone as far west as they could.
She stopped and sighed. “I guess we turn back when we reach the shoreline.” She stood still while he sprayed her down with repellant, then took the can and sprayed some on her hands to wipe on her face.
They stepped out of the forest onto pebbles and sand. A sliver of a moon gilded the landscape with silver, and the sound of the water intensified.
Jon touched Annie’s hand. “There’s a cabin. Did you know it was out here?”
It was set back in the trees, and the bit of light escaping the edges of the curtains was nearly obscured by the thick bushes that seemed to be trying to reclaim the small structure. It was so dilapidated that it had to be a hunter’s cabin that was rarely used.Someone was inside now though. He heard some noises from beyond the battered door.
“Let’s check it,” she said. “I’ve never seen it, though I’ve kayaked past here before. It’s almost as if it was hidden on purpose.”
And maybe it was. It was so well screened by vegetation that a hunter could have used it as a deer blind. He followed her to the door, which was only about two feet by five feet. He’d have to duck to go inside.
Annie rapped her knuckles on it. “LEO Pederson. I’d like to talk to you.”
Her strong, assertive voice caused a flurry of thumps from inside. And a weak cry of “Help!”
Annie tried the door, but it wouldn’t open. “It’s locked.”
None of the window openings would be large enough to climb in. “Let me try to force it.”
She stood aside, and Jon rammed his shoulder into the door. It cracked but didn’t budge until the third try, and as it gave way, he nearly fell into the room. Annie barreled after him with her gun drawn. Jon regained his balance and glanced around the space, dimly lit by one kerosene lamp on an upended crate. There was little furniture, just a bed where a figure lay.
Annie approached the man. “How can I help you?”
Jon kept the distance between them small in case the guy made a move, but as he neared, he recognized Glenn Hussert.
Annie’s gasp came at the same time. “Glenn?”
Jon trained the flashlight beam on the man. His head was wrapped in a dirty bandage, and he looked rough with sallow, pasty skin and dark circles under his eyes.
“Help,” he whispered again.
