Page 67 of Finding Forever

I hurried toward the house.

Trooper Sanderson followed me. “Be careful what you touch. We don’t know what’s going on yet.”

“I know Craig. He wouldn’t hurt Riley.” I opened the door. The first thing I saw was the mixing bowl. I walked across to the table and touched the rim. “Riley was baking before he left.”

“The oven’s still warm, but he had enough time to turn it off.” Sanderson pointed to the satellite phone. “He didn’t read the message you sent.”

I slowly turned around. Sherlock’s leash was still draped over the coat stand. I frowned at the assortment of jackets, boots, and bags beside the front door. Something wasn’t right.

I hunted through the bags. “One of the packs is missing.” Hope flared inside me. I ran outside to Alex. “Did you move one of the backpacks?”

“No. We left them by the front door in case we needed to make a quick exit. Do you think Riley took one of them?”

“He must have.” I looked over my shoulder at Sanderson. “I know where he’s gone.”

Trooper Winchell pointed toward the trees. “Is that Craig Sturgess?”

I held my hand above my eyes, then started running. “It is,” I yelled over my shoulder. “Get the first aid kit. He’s hurt.”

forty-nine

ERIC

As Craig’s ankle was being wrapped in ice, he told us about seeing Riley. When he arrived, no one was in the house. He’d wandered around the property, looking for us. When he saw a man standing on the edge of the forest, he decided to confront him. He followed him into the forest but turned back, worried he’d get lost. On the way out, he twisted his ankle. Using an old branch, he’d hobbled from the trees and was happy to see our vehicles.

With Craig being looked after, Alex drove me and Trooper Sanderson to the edge of the forest.

As Alex stepped out of the truck, I grabbed two packs off the back seat and handed one to my friend. “Here. Take this.”

Alex hauled his backpack over his shoulder. “Riley should be at the cave by now.”

“If we’re lucky,” I muttered. We still had another forty minutes of hiking ahead of us. Riley had only been to the cave once. If he missed the path that took him straight there, he could be anywhere.

“Is he used to hiking?” Sanderson matched our steps stride for stride.

I slowed as we reached the shelter we saw on our last hike. “He enjoys it but sticks to designated trails.” I looked at Alex. “Someone’s been here in the last few days.”

Alex studied the campfire. “Do you think it was Chapman?”

“Possibly. If he can recreate an elaborate hoax in a warehouse, he can build a simple fire.” I touched the charred wood. It was stone cold—too cold to have been used in the last twelve hours. “If it was him, he was closer than we thought. Let’s keep moving.”

We traveled in silence. The slap of the branches and the snapping of twigs were the only sounds in the forest.

I peered through the trees. “Is it me or is it unusually quiet?”

Sanderson frowned. “It gets like this before a thunderstorm.”

“In the middle of summer?”

“They’re dry thunderstorms. They produce huge amounts of lightning and are the main cause of wildfires.”

“That’s the last thing we need.” Alex veered right and we began our climb up the side of the mountain. By the time we stood above the tree line, each of us was out of breath.

“It’s not far to the cave,” Alex said to Sanderson. “Do you want to stop for a few minutes?”

He shook his head. “No. Keep going. The sooner we find your friend, the sooner we can get off the mountain.”

I stared at the brooding mass of black clouds on the horizon. Sherlock was terrified of storms. Since Mike died, he hid under my bed whenever he heard thunder. If the storm arrived and Sherlock panicked, he could hurt Riley and himself.

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