An encounter in the dark woods could also be dangerous. If someone was involved in criminal activity, they wouldn’t want to get caught. And if whoever was out there was responsible for Micah’s death, they could still have a murderous mindset.
Meaning Brad—or anyone—who got in their way could be in deadly peril.
TWENTY-ONE
NOTHING.
Nada.
Zip.
Reining in his frustration, Brad turned up the collar of his jacket. Gave the woods and path one more slow sweep from the concealed spot he’d staked out after he’d done a quiet, meticulous walk-through in the entire area visible from the guest cottage window.
No human movement then, no human movement now.
Whoever had been here must be long gone. Perhaps the person had passed through rather than lingered.
In any case, after more than two hours of silent, motionless surveillance in the bone-chilling wind, it was time to call it a night.
Brad pushed himself to his feet and shook out his stiff muscles.
He’d check in with Cara, let her know his reconnaissance had been a bust, and—
He froze.
Someone, or something, was on the move.
It could be a deer. A few had gone by earlier.
Except this didn’t sound like a deer.
It sounded more like a pair of boots clumping along, breaking sticks and scattering stones along the way. Human footwear made far more noise than the small hooves of a buck or doe.
Brad cocked his ear toward the noise.
It was coming from the path, not the woods, in the direction of the lake. Otherwise, the dead leaves would rattle as branches were pushed aside.
Whoever or whatever it was would be within ten feet of him when they passed.
Pulse accelerating, he crouched down.
Waited.
A light flickered through the trees in the distance.
Definitely human.
Brad pulled out his cell and texted Larry for backup.
Sixty seconds later, a figure in black appeared on the trail, flashlight aimed at the ground. The tall, bulky build suggested the interloper was a man.
Best plan? Stay on the guy’s tail until Larry arrived—and hope the man wasn’t armed. A shooting match wasn’t in his plans for this night, despite the pistol on his hip and all the hours he’d clocked at the range.
The intruder passed by, but his features would have been impossible to discern in the darkness even without the ski mask he wore.
Natalie’s trespasser wasn’t taking any chances on being recognized.
In light of his camouflage, the security cameras Natalie had rejected wouldn’t have helped identify him.
