Graham paused in front of him. “Wyatt . . . you look terrible.”
“I’ve been told.” Wyatt glanced at Kori beside him, and a smile tugged at his lips.
She touched his arm. “The paramedics are with Pete and the others. I should get back.”
“Go.” He nodded. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
She held his gaze before turning and heading back toward the road.
He watched her go, his heart racing for a moment.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Graham said. “That could have turned out differently.”
“It’s a good thing you got here when you did.”
“Or a God thing.”
Wyatt nodded. “Exactly.”
“I actually caught wind of this before I got your message. We got an ID back on that dead body.”
Wyatt straightened. “And?”
“His name was Bill Hudson. He had known ties with an anti-government militia group and had been arrested for a small domestic terrorist attack in North Carolina.”
“He must have joined up with this group, hoping to carry on their ideology.”
“That’s what it looks like,” Graham said. “Something must have gone wrong between Bill and someone else in the group that led to his death.”
While standing there in the woods, Wyatt gave him a quick rundown—the hospital, Wren, the map being a decoy, Herb and Billie’s property.
Then he got to Flint.
Graham went still. “We saw him tied up in the back of the truck, and we have him in custody.”
“He was waiting at my truck when we came out of the woods,” Wyatt said. “He had a gun. He’s one of them.”
“Flint Gentry.” Micah shook his head slowly, like he was turning the name over and not finding a way to make it fit. “I’ve known that man for three years.”
“So have I.” Wyatt kept his voice even.
“We’ll take him from here,” Graham finally said.
Wyatt gave him the rest—Mackenzie’s confirmation of what was going on, Flint’s role as an inside source for The Remnant, the Forest Service access he’d exploited.
When Wyatt finished, Graham nodded. “We’ve got units on the property now, and teams intercepting anyone who ran.”
“I’m sure they’ll put up a fight.”
“They will. But the FBI is coming. Apparently, this group has been on the fed’s radar for a while.”
Wyatt looked at him. “Really? How long?”
“Their leadership tried to establish something similar in Pennsylvania two, three years back. It didn’t take hold the way they wanted, so they relocated.” Graham glanced toward the woods. “They were looking for more remote terrain. Less visibility. Blue Ridge Hollow fit the profile.”
“There’s more,” Wyatt said. “The leader is a man named Bartholomew Beekman. Kori put him behind bars four years ago after the government took away his land through eminent domain. It effectively shut down his livelihood, and he went as far as assaulting one of the project managers charged with building the road.”
“He didn’t try to lure Kori out here, though, did he?” Graham asked.
“I don’t think that was his original thought,” Wyatt said. “But when Mackenzie discovered he was out here, we think she recognized him. He probably feared she’d go back to Kori and tell her what was going on. That’s when he decided to send a message.”
Micah blew out a breath and glanced around. “The good news is that it looks like this is over.”
Wyatt looked through the woods toward the cluster of paramedics and the people he’d pulled out of that barn.
It was over, and everyone with him today was okay—including Thunder.
That was something he’d always be thankful for.
