Wyatt studied the image. The orange indicated something alive—though it could be an animal. Whatever it was, the object was stationary.
And that was exactly where he needed to head.
Kori noticed something change in Wyatt’s posture. She moved closer and peered at the tablet.
The white outline of the forest filled the screen, broken only by the glowing shape Garrett had pointed out.
A heat signature.
A person.
Her pulse hammered.
Was that Mackenzie? It had to be . . . right?
But another thought pushed in, colder and heavier than the rest.
Last night hikers had found a body in these woods. Not Pete. Not someone anyone recognized.
Just a man lying in the snow near Harrow’s Mill with no identification and no explanation for how he’d gotten there.
The news had sent a shiver through her.
Someone had died out here. And Mackenzie had been missing in these same mountains for seven days.
She couldn’t help but think that something evil was happening out there.
“We have to go.” Her voice cracked. “What if that’s my sister? What if she’s hurt?”
Wyatt touched her arm. “We will. Give us a minute.”
“But she’s been out there for?—”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
Something about his voice calmed her.
His expression was the same one he’d worn yesterday on the trail—steady, grounded, impossible to rush. He didn’t push or dismiss or try to fix things too quickly. He simply held the moment where it was until everything else caught up.
Kori wasn’t used to that.
Flint had always been quick—quick to decide, quick to move on, quick to smooth things over before she’d fully processed them. And the few men she’d dated since hadn’t been much different. They’d all been the city-loving, career-oriented types.
This felt . . . different.
Kori forced herself to breathe.
She looked past the tablet to the trail marker. Lost Hollow Trail. The same place they’d started yesterday.
The trees beyond it stood silent under their blanket of snow, the narrow path disappearing into white.
Somewhere out there was the place they’d found Mackenzie’s backpack.
Somewhere beyond that was the place where a man had died.
Fear pressed against her ribs, sharp and insistent.
If someone had killed that man . . . what were the chances Mackenzie had simply gotten lost? Someone in this forest was willing to murder.
