Her gaze never left his. “He wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
Gabe’s jaw clenched. He appreciated Eric’s concern, but he should have called. “Natalie must have seen Eric and decided to stay away.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “Or she could have hurt herself while she was with Sherlock.”
Gabe looked around the property. “It’s possible but unlikely. Natalie isn’t reckless. She wouldn’t do anything that could harm her or Sherlock unless it was a life and death situation.” The dry grass surrounding the house shimmered in the hot afternoon sun. “She left the house to take Sherlock outside. It’s hot. Unless Sherlock was on his lead, he would have raced toward the trees.”
He strode toward the house.
Trooper Sanderson followed him. “Be careful what you touch. We don’t know what’s going on yet.”
“I know Eric. He wouldn’t hurt Natalie.” Gabe opened the door. The first thing he saw was the mixing bowl. He walked across to the table and touched the rim. “Natalie was baking before she left.”
“The oven is still warm, but she had enough time to turn it off.” Sanderson pointed to the satellite phone. “She didn’t read the message you sent.”
Gabe slowly turned around. Sherlock’s leash was still draped over the coat stand. He frowned at the assortment of jackets, boots, and bags beside the front door. Something wasn’t right.
He hunted through the bags. “One of the packs is missing.” Hope flared inside him. He ran outside to Caleb. “Did you move one of the backpacks?”
“No. We left them by the front door in case we needed to make a quick…do you think Natalie took one of them?”
“She must have.” He looked over his shoulder at Sanderson. “I know where she’s gone.”
Trooper Winchell pointed toward the trees. “Is that Eric Sturgess?”
Gabe held his hand above his eyes, then started running. “It is,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Get the first aid kit. He’s hurt.”
