An abandoned hunting cottage.
I zoom in.
The structure is marked as "condemned—scheduled for demolition 2018."
But this is state forest land.
Bureaucracy moves slowly.
It's probably still standing.
Old, probably falling apart.
The roof is likely compromised, but it would have four walls and maybe a fireplace.
Shelter.
If Eden made it that far—four miles through rough terrain with no map, no compass, just desperation driving her forward—if she's smart enough to look for shelter instead of just running blindly?—
That's where she'll be.
It's a guess.
An educated guess based on probability and psychology and my understanding of how Eden thinks.
But it's all I have.
Callum returns with a tactical pack. "Everything you requested, plus some additions I thought might be useful. Satellite phone, GPS beacon, flares in case you need extraction."
"Good."
"Sir, are you certain?—"
"I'm certain. How long until it's fully dark?"
"Three hours and eighteen minutes."
Three hours to hike four miles through rough terrain and find her before the temperature drops to freezing.
A tight timeline, but doable.
I grab the pack and head for the door.
"Sir." Callum's voice stops me. "Be careful. The forest can be disorienting once the sun sets. And if she's desperate enough to run, she might be desperate enough to?—"
"She won't hurt herself. That's not who she is."
"I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say she might run again when she sees you coming."
The thought hadn't occurred to me.
But he's right. She might.
Might see me as a bigger threat than hypothermia or getting lost or any of the actual dangers out there.
Might choose freezing to death over coming back with me.
The thought makes my chest tight.
