“Is it Angus again?” Scott asked. “I can call him if you want.” He had no problem telling the man to leave her alone.
“No, it was June,” Millie said. “I don’t want to talk to her right now. Maybe I can carve out time to see her after Verna’s baby shower tomorrow.”
“You’re still going to the shower?” he asked.
She nodded. “I feel like I’ve ignored my friends here too much. I promise I’ll be safe.”
He knew she’d be safe because both he and Wolfe would cover her. Perhaps he didn’t need to tell her that. “I’m sure it’ll be a nice time,” he said. He wound along the country road, crossing the river several times and finally reaching what had been Clay Baker’s refuge from the city.
The night was now pitch-black and yet the cabin cut an ominous silhouette, as if carved from the darkness itself. The rain periodically splattered against his windshield as thunder crackled in the distance. Another storm barreled toward them.
“Let’s be quick about this. We’re about to get very wet.” He reached into the glove box and took out his industrial-size flashlight for Millie. “You take this. I’ll use the flashlight on my phone.” He exited the vehicle before she could argue and crossed around to meet her on the other side.
Lightning flashed in the distance, highlighting her pale face. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, looking toward the flapping yellow crime-scene tape attached to the front door. The rest of the tape had broken off and lay tangled and wet on the muddy ground.
“All right.” He took her hand, finding comfort at his gun nestling at the small of his back. He led her around the cabin to the rear, figuring it’d be better to break and enter from that point.
Surprisingly, the back sliding glass door was unlocked. He flashed the light inside, then Millie did the same, her beam reaching the far recesses of the main room. She shivered. He didn’t ask again if she wanted to leave. Instead, he stepped inside. The furniture had been overturned, no doubt as the investigators had searched the place. Cushions remained on the ground and fingerprinting dust covered every surface.
A chill permeated the room and the smell of blood still thickened the air, scenting it with copper. He looked around and caught sight of a lone reclining chair that faced the TV on the far wall above the fireplace. His long legs ate up the distance to the chair and he sat, staring at the TV.
“What are you doing?” Millie asked.
“Pretending I’m Clay. Glen mentioned his brother would want to see his secret hiding place.” Scott looked around the room and out the sliding glass door. Several trees could be seen from this vantage point, but not as many as he would’ve expected. “Come on.” He bounded out and took her hand, gratefully exiting the dismal cabin and taking several deep breaths of the chilly but fresh night air.
Holding her hand, he scouted the area, then walked across the deck and down the stairs to the marshy grass. “Those four trees there,” he said, pointing. “Those are the only ones he could see from his recliner.”
He hurried toward the cluster of four tall pine trees, noting the boot prints all over the yard. The officers had already searched this area, but had they paid any attention to the trees? He moved toward the closest one as Millie examined the one next to him.
“What are we looking for?” she asked, her voice hushed.
He patted down the bark, then brushed away pine needles at the base, not seeing anything. “I have absolutely no idea.” He gingerly prodded up some of the dirt and found more dirt. “Huh,” he said, moving onto the next tree as Millie did the same.
“Just because the brothers hid things in trees when they were kids, that doesn’t mean they’re doing it now,” she muttered.
“Totally agree,” Scott said, feeling foolish. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He patted down the fourth tree and stood back just as something caught his eye. The bottom of the trunk had loose bark partially sticking up. Shrugging, he reached for it and tore it free. “What is this?” Leaning closer, he dug deeper and his nails hit something metallic.
“What do you have?” Millie whispered, coming up on his right.
He kept digging and she reached in to help, one hand holding the flashlight steady so he could see. They soon unearthed a square, dented metal box. He pulled it all the way out of the earth and brushed it off, noting the old-fashioned number lock on the side. “If Clay used three numbers, what would they be?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “666?”
He tried it. It didn’t work.
“Try 000.”
He did so. Nothing. The sky opened up as if angry at their failure and pummeled rain down on them, soaking them almost instantly. Millie yipped and put her hand over her head.
“Come on,” Scott said, grasping her hand and starting to run.
She ducked her head and ran with him, her kitten heels sticking in the mud every few steps. Soon they reached the SUV, where he lifted her inside before jogging around and settling himself in the driver’s seat. He handed the metal box to her. “Let’s break into that at home.”
Damn it. Home. He’d said it again.
Just then both doors were wrenched open, and brutal hands ripped him out of the vehicle.
