CHAPTER 30
Micah continuedto press his back against the oak tree, his breathing controlled and his mind already working through the situation.
The woods stayed silent.
There was no more movement.
No third shot.
Still, his pulse thrummed in his ears, but his hands were steady as he held his firearm and scanned the tree line to the north.
Nothing.
Only branches and shadows.
“We need to move,” Micah said. “Stay low. Keep the dogs close.”
“You think the shooter’s still out there?” Wyatt asked.
“I think we don’t wait around to find out.”
Caleb shifted behind the log, preparing to move. “On your count.”
Micah took one more look at the woods ahead then nodded. “Go. Now.”
They moved fast, staying low, using the trees for cover. Hamilton and Thunder stayed close to their handlers, their bodies low to the ground and ears flat.
Micah brought up the rear, his weapon still drawn and his eyes scanning behind them for any sign of movement.
Once they cleared that area of the woods, they paused.
They should be safe here—for now.
Micah holstered his weapon and reached for his radio. “Dispatch, this is Sheriff Sutherland. Reporting shots fired at the King property off Route 9. Two rounds, north-northwest direction. No injuries. I’m on scene—hold any units for now. I’ll call if I need backup.”
“Copy that, Sheriff.”
He clipped the radio back to his belt.
“That wasn’t a hunter.” Wyatt’s lips pulled into a tight line.
“No, it wasn’t,” Micah muttered.
Two shots that close in woods on private property.
Caleb stepped up beside him, his expression hard. “You think it was the Hendersons?”
“Their land is on the other side of those trees,” Micah said. “And like we talked about earlier, Travis has been escalating.”
Someone wasn’t just harassing the Kings anymore, he realized.
Someone was willing to use violence.
The silence in the house was unbearable.
Naomi sat frozen on the couch, Grace clutched against her chest and every muscle in her body tense as she strained to hear something—anything—from outside.
Good Boy continued to pace near the door, his nails clicking against the hardwood, his body rigid with alertness.
