Page 48 of Raven's Curse
Chase stilled, a volley of scenarios racing through his head before he pushed them all down. Breathed. “Looks like a cruiser.”
“On a decommissioned forest road?”
“Bodie said Eli and one of the state cops were out here dealing with a tractor incident. Makes sense it might be off the main thoroughfare. But, we should take a look so you can tear Eli a new one for scaring you.”
She drew herself up. “I’m not scared.”
“That makes one of us.”
Chase eased the SUV forward, bumping along the rutted track. Gravel kicked against the undercarriage before they slowed to a halt twenty feet back. The lone sedan sat off to the right, driver’s door yawned open. Interior light gleaming yellow against the mist.
Greer scoured the area before slowly stepping out, weapon drawn. Chase followed suit, the Bronco lighting up the fog just like it had that night at the psychiatric hospital. Bringing all those memories flooding back.
How eerily familiar this felt.
Chase joined her at the front of her vehicle, scanning the area again as the cruiser’s engine ticked in the background, the cooling fan whining from the strain before abruptly shutting off.
He nodded at the rear end. “Trunk’s cracked open.”
Greer wet her lips, a brief frown curving her mouth before she inhaled — removed any trace of emotion from her face. She pointed at the wedge of space. “Guess we check there, first.”
They walked over, guns at the ready, turning a full three-sixty, before Chase grabbed the edge — mouthed a countdown. Greer backed up a bit, muzzle aimed at the trunk as he tossed it open, the large metal hatch blocking out the flashing blues.
The Bronco’s headlights cast deep shadows in the large space, a hint of the jack peeking out from beneath a first aid kit. The flare box laid open, a handful scattered around the trunk.
Chase made a few hand signals, staying left as she veered around to the passenger side. They closed the distance in sync, peering into the back — bouncing the circular beams around the interior before continuing to the front. Greer opened the opposite door, sending a swirl of air through the cab.
The radio mic dangled from the rearview, the frayed cord sliced halfway down its length. The radiator hissed out front, steam slowly rising from the hood as the car’s spotlight illuminated a circle of trees off in the distance, dust motes flickering in the bright light.
Chase nodded at the camera mounted on the dash. “Dashcam’s set to record. Interior’s warm. We must have just missed him.”
Greer pulled back. “Missed him going where?”
“No idea.” He paused as his beam caught something dark smeared across the outer pillar. “Shit. I’ve got a bloody handprint.”
She darted around to his side, stared at the mark before bouncing her light across the gravel. “There’s a drop beside the tire. Three more heading toward that patch of woods lit up by his spotlight.”
“Maybe he hit an animal, but it took off, so he followed after it.”
“God, I hope so.” She grabbed her radio off her belt. “Bodie, Jordan. Anyone copy?”
A burst of static crackled over the airwaves, a muffled voice starting and stopping in the background.
She tried again — got the same unsettling response.
Chase palmed his cell. “No bars.”
“He wouldn’t go far. He doesn’t even know his way around up here.”
“We’ll look for tracks. Follow if we can. Or we can backtrack until we get a signal, though, cell coverage is spotty up here, at best.”
“He might not have time for us to backtrack.” She motioned toward her Bronco. “You might want to grab your kit. And the shotgun in the rack. Code’s your birthday — month, then day.”
“I’d consider that romantic if the circumstances were different.”
Chase raced back to the vehicle, slipped on his vest, then grabbed a bunch of gear and met her in front of the cruiser. He handed her a vest and the shotgun, tossing his medic bag across his back. “Point or sweep, sweetheart?”
She eyed him. “Are you going to stroke out if I take point? Because I’d feel infinitely safer knowing you have my six.”
