Page 49 of Raven's Curse
“I’ll always have your six, but I’ll be fine, just… watch your step. No telling what this might be. For all we know, it’s a setup, and Eli’s not even involved.”
“Something tells me we won’t be that lucky. Not that an ambush’s lucky, but…”
He understood what she’d meant. Having their lives on the line was one thing. Involving others…
Chase fell in behind her as they picked their way across the grassy field, listening for any suggestion of trouble. Coyotes kicked up a chorus somewhere uphill as an owl dropped silently across their path, snatching something off the ground before vanishing into the night.
Greer stopped halfway through the field, pointing to a patch of ground. “That’s his badge.”
Chase closed in behind her, staring at the shield glinting in the yellow beam. “We’ll leave it for now.”
In case it’s evidence…
He didn’t voice his concerns out loud, but based on the slight slump of her shoulders, the rough exhale of breath, she already knew.
She glanced back at him. “Should we try calling his name?”
“It’ll out us but… It’s worth a shot.”
“Elijah!” Her voice carried across the field, the massive trees throwing it back at her.
Chase scanned the tree line, but the beam only caught the mist — bleaching everything into a nauseating white.
They waited, breath held, the oppressive darkness crushing in around them.
A faint chirp.
Definitely mechanical. Like a beacon from a radio. They veered right, stopping at the edge of the field.
Chase went to one knee, tracing a faint boot print in the dirt. “I’ve got a partial print. Pine needles are kicked up all around. And there’s a crushed fern. Someone definitely walked this way recently.”
She nodded. “Fog’s getting thicker. We’ll have to dial back the wattage, or we’ll end up blinding ourselves.”
He toned down the flashlight, following her along a patchy trail until they reached an obvious fork. One curved down toward what he thought was a creek. The other continued upward, winding along a short embankment.
He tapped her on the shoulder. “Wait here for a second.”
Chase darted up the embankment, searching for more prints before doubling back — heading toward the creek. A deeper imprint compressed the dirt several feet in, what looked like someone tripping their way along the trail. “This way.”
Greer took point, again, shotgun at her shoulder as she followed the path toward the river, the distinctive rush of water drawing them down. Something crashed off to their left, twigs snapping as bushes rustled from the force. They turned, weapons raised, muzzles sweeping the darkness. Waiting until the noise had faded into the distance before continuing.
Another chirp.
Louder. Closer.
Greer picked up a bit of speed, waving at the mist when something clattered up ahead. Metal on rock, followed by a low thud. “Elijah.”
Any peripheral noise cut off, the trees bending closer from the light breeze, as if straining to hear a reply.
They moved on, stopping when the creek ate up the trail. Cold vapor lifted off the pooling black water, and for a second, everything smelled like copper and decaying moss.
She bounced the tiny beam around the bank, inhaling at a dark object snagged on a bush.
Chase climbed over some deadfall, shining his light on the item. “It’s his radio.”
Greer inched closer. “Eli. If you can hear me, tap twice.”
They waited, even the woods holding its breath as the cruiser’s blue lights strobed in the distance. Nothing more than the occasional hint of color reflected in the fog.
