Page 111 of Silent Bones
They secured the house and loaded their equipment, the coordinates locked into their GPS units. As they pulled away from Dale's property, Noah caught a glimpse of movement in hisrearview mirror, a curtain falling back into place in an upstairs window of a neighboring house. Someone had been watching them, just as Dale had watched the Calder’s.
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The logging road cut through the wilderness like a scar, barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass. Noah gripped the dashboard as McKenzie took another sharp turn, the SUV's tires struggling for purchase on the loose gravel and packed dirt. Through the windshield, he could see Callie's cruiser ahead, kicking up a cloud of dust that made visibility nearly impossible.
“Are we getting closer?” McKenzie asked, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
Noah checked the GPS. The coordinates from Dale's lease agreement showed as a red dot still miles ahead, deep in the High Peaks wilderness where cell service died and civilization became a distant memory.
"Another twenty minutes, maybe more on these roads," Noah replied, studying the terrain map. "We're climbing now. Getting into country where you could hide a building for decades and nobody would find it."
The radio crackled with Callie's voice: "Road's getting worse up here. Branches across the path, mud holes. This thing hasn't been maintained in years."
Noah keyed his mic. "Copy that. Stay close. We don't know what we're driving into."
The forest pressed in on both sides, ancient pines and hardwoods creating a canopy so thick it felt like driving through a tunnel. Noah had been in wilderness like this before, but never chasing a kidnapper with a victim's life hanging in the balance. Every minute that passed was another minute Avery spent in Dale's hands, another minute closer to whatever finale the former ranger had planned.
They crested a small ridge and the trees opened up slightly, revealing the true scale of the landscape ahead. Mountains rose in every direction, their peaks shrouded in low clouds. The road they followed was little more than two ruts carved by logging trucks decades ago, now overgrown and treacherous.
"There's no way out of here except the way we came in," Noah said, more to himself than to McKenzie. "He's got to know that."
"Maybe that's the point," McKenzie replied. "Maybe he doesn't plan on leaving."
The thought had occurred to Noah as well. Everything about Dale's behavior suggested a man who'd reached the end of a long journey. The trail camera left where they'd find it. The photograph placed prominently on his kitchen counter. The lease agreement hidden just well enough to make them work for it, but not so well they'd miss it entirely.
Dale wanted to be found. The question was why.
Callie's voice came through the radio again: "Visual on the structure. Half mile ahead, just visible through the trees."
Noah leaned forward, squinting. At first he saw nothing but more forest. Then, like an image slowly developing in a photograph, he began to make out geometric shapes that didn't belong in nature. A peaked roof. The straight line of a wall. Windows that caught what little sunlight filtered through the canopy.
"That's it," he said. "Same cabin from the photo."
McKenzie eased off the accelerator, letting their speed drop as they approached. The cabin sat in a small clearing. It was built of logs that had weathered to a dark gray. A stone chimney rose from one end, but no smoke emerged from it. The windows were dark, giving no hint of what might wait inside.
"Looks empty," McKenzie observed.
"Looks like a trap," Noah countered.
They pulled up behind Callie's cruiser at the edge of the clearing, engines ticking as they cooled. The silence that settled over them was complete, no bird songs, no wind in the trees, no human sounds at all. Just the kind of deep forest quiet that made you aware of your own heartbeat.
Noah stepped out of the SUV and immediately drew his sidearm. Other police officers followed suit, their boots crunching on pine needles and fallen leaves as they approached the cabin. The structure was larger than it had appeared in Dale's photograph, probably built as a hunting lodge back when the logging roads were active.
"Two entry points," Callie said quietly, gesturing toward the front door and a smaller side entrance. "Windows on three sides, but the glass is dirty. Can't see inside."
Noah studied the building's exterior for any sign of recent habitation. No footprints in the soft earth around the foundation. No fresh tire tracks. But that didn't mean anything. Dale had been a ranger for twenty years. He knew how to cover his tracks.
"Stack on the front door," Noah said. "By the numbers. We go in fast and loud."
They formed up in tactical formation, Noah taking point with McKenzie and Callie flanking. The wooden door looked solid but old, its red paint peeling away in long strips. Noah could see fresh scratches around the lock, suggesting recent use.
He counted down silently, three, two, one, then SWAT used a battering ram and drove it into the door just beside the handle.
"Police!"
Noah's voice echoed through the cabin's interior as they burst through the splintered door, weapons drawn and ready. The main room opened up before them, rustic furniture covered in dust, a stone fireplace cold and dark, the musty smell of a building that had been sealed up too long.
"Clear left!" Callie called, sweeping toward what looked like a kitchen area.
