“We will. We’ll take Storm for tracking. Without Rory, she won’t bark. We’ll find their campsite—I suggested a spot—and make sure they stayed there and then moved on in the correct direction.”
I look around at the others. “Anyone think it’s not enough?” I glance at Yolanda. “Notice I don’t ask if anyone thinks it’s too much.”
“I actually don’t,” Yolanda says. “While I’m certain you’re all panicking over two innocent hikers, at worst, we can consider it a lockdown drill.” She points to my beer. “Now drink up.”
“Actually, no.” I push it aside. “Any chance of getting one of your fancy mocktails, Iz? If we’re going to be away from Rory all day tomorrow, I need to pump andnotdump.”
Isabel takes my beer and pulls out a glass as Yolanda pats my back. “Sorry, Case. If it’s any consolation, we’re all very happy for your sacrifice. We get a baby, and you get the enforced sobriety, sore boobs, sleepless nights…”
“Oh, just wait until we drop her off at dawn tomorrow. Don’t forget, she’s teething.”
Anders peers at me and then Dalton. “So are there really hikers in the woods? Or are you guys just saying that to get another day off… this time leaving the baby behind?”
“Well, you’re about to find out, since you’ll be joining us tomorrow. Go home and get some sleep. We’ll take the evening shift. It’ll be a very early start. Ideally, we’d like to get there before they break camp—so we can watch them leave.”
CHAPTER FOUR
As promised, we take the evening shift, which is me following up on the Roc break-in while Dalton makes notes about our hiker encounter and does the occasional walk through town.
These days, most of our law enforcement consists of those walks, like constables on a beat, reassuring people of our presence. Otherwise, our jobs are heavily town-management oriented. Also, the lack of actual law-enforcement issues allows us to work fewer hours and spend more time as a family. Tonight, though, since our daughter was claimed by my sister, we have a relatively quiet shift.
I don’t know what to make of the break-in at the Roc. I investigate, in the sense that I take fingerprints and poke around checking for anything that could have been stolen or damaged. In the end, though, I’m not sure there’s much point in doing more. Nothing was taken. Nothing was damaged. We have no idea who broke in or why, and any other time, I probably would take the excuse to solve this puzzle, but we have other things on our plate.
Partway through our shift, I check in with April to makesure Rory isn’t giving her trouble, but today’s long hike has put the baby to sleep, so there’s no reason for me to quit work early.
Dalton and I take advantage of the rare opportunity to enjoy dinner together at the restaurant, staying past closing, which is one of the perks of being in charge. By the time we pick up Rory and Storm, it’s eleven. Perfect timing to get a good night’s sleep and then hit the road at five. Except, we have a baby, who needs her nighttime feeding. She wakes up shortly after we get home and then she doesn’t want to go back to sleep, being well rested and also cranky from her teeth.
I insist Dalton go to bed before I feed Rory, and I try to keep her quiet afterward, but he must have set an alarm to be sure I don’t spend the entire night dealing with a fussy baby—which, yes, I have done, reasoning one of us should get a good sleep. He comes down at two and bullies me up to bed. Rory must eventually drift off in his arms, and I find them like that when the alarm wakes me at four thirty.
I decide we don’t need to leave right at five. There’s little chance the hikers will move on early when it’s not full light until after seven.
Dalton’s still up by five. I have breakfast packed, so I enjoy a coffee with Anders while Dalton runs Rory to Yolanda. By five thirty, we’re on our way.
We reach the area a little over an hour later. There’s no scent of campfire smoke in the air. If we were the ones heading out, we’d have started the day with a fire, hot breakfast, and hot coffee. But every hiker does things differently, and the lack of smoke doesn’t necessarily mean they’re still asleep.
I tell Anders where I expect to find the couple camping—in the spot I’d suggested. We split up to approach from different directions.
I take Storm, which means I get the route least likely to bring me near the actual site. Storm’s not exactly a sure-footed wilderness wraith. Neither am I, to be honest. I’ll try, and so will Anders, but the person who can get closest is Dalton. That means he’ll circle around to come in from the opposite direction, which is also the way the couple will walk if they’ve already headed out.
Anders’s route takes him up, where elevation will give him a bird’s-eye view. He might not be a silent stalker, but he’s an expert climber. I get the direct route down the faint trail to the campsite. If I’m spotted, I’m the least likely to worry Gretchen and Blake. Just “Katie” and her dog come to make sure Blake’s ankle is okay.
Still, I’d rather not be spotted. Our goal is for them to never know anyone is here, so we can honestly confirm that they’re heading west, as they claimed.
Storm and I hike along the path, which is really just a game trail that we’ve used often enough for it to remain clear, even if our scent probably means animals no longer go near it.
It’s familiar enough terrain that I know where it’ll curve just before the campsite. I pause there and tell Storm to stay. Then I listen and sniff again. Is that smoke? It’s very faint, suggesting I’m smelling a fire long since put out. The only sound I hear is a distant raven, and it goes silent after a few croaks.
I check to make sure Storm is staying put. She’s lying down, and she lifts her head in hope, only to huff a sigh when I repeat the stay signal.
I creep around the corner. The empty clearing is just ahead, maybe twenty paces, off to the right side. As I ease closer, the babble of running water whispers beneath the silence. The creek is on the other side, and it’s very small, just enough to provide clean water when we overnight here.
I squint into the thick woods. In a largely coniferous forest, even autumn doesn’t thin out the viewing obstacles. When I can’t see a tent, I take another two steps. Then I stop. There’s movement to the north of the path, right around where I’d expect to find the site.
I ease into the trees and move a little closer. There’s definitely someone there. I can just make out a shadowy figure, tall—
“It’s me,” Dalton grunts.
I walk into the clearing. “How’d you know it was me?”
