“Guess we’re both tired,” he said under his breath.
Thunder didn’t relax.
His phone rang.
Micah.
“What’s up?” Wyatt answered.
“We’ve got a situation.”
Wyatt straightened. “Pete?”
“No. Not Pete. Someone else. A couple of hikers were coming down an old service road about a mile from Harrow’s Mill. They found a body.”
Wyatt’s breath caught. He waited, already bracing for the answer he didn’t want.
“It wasn’t Mackenzie. White male, forties. No ID.”
“What’s the scene look like?”
“Snow’s disturbed around the area. Hard to say how long he’s been there.” Micah paused.
Wyatt filled in the rest. “Foul play?”
“Gunshot wound.”
Wyatt glanced toward the window, where the dark outline of the mountains pressed against the night.
A body near Harrow’s Mill. The same place Mackenzie might have gone. The same woods where someone had been watching them.
“I’m heading out,” he said, ending the call as he reached for his jacket.
Two missing people. One body.
And a growing certainty settling into his gut.
Mackenzie hadn’t just gotten lost in those woods.
Something had happened out there.
Something dangerous.
