“Hold up,” Garrett murmured, raising a hand.
He crouched slightly, scanning the edge of the path. His attention landed on a small black device tucked inside a tangle ofshrubs. A motion sensor, its tiny light winking red. He followed the line of its coverage, then swept his gaze wider.
“There,” he pointed, low and sharp. Another sensor, positioned to overlap the first.
He lifted the binoculars again, training them on the eaves of the house. The drizzle blurred the lenses for a moment before he wiped them clean with the edge of his sleeve. Then he saw them. Security cameras, three at least, mounted in different angles, each one watching.
He lowered the binoculars, his jaw tightening. “Hell of a lot of security for an old country place.”
Raines studied the setup with a grim look. “Any way past those without lighting the place up like a Christmas tree?”
“Maybe,” Garrett answered.
He jogged back through the drizzle toward the SUV, yanked open the rear compartment, and pulled out the small black jammer box he kept in his gear kit. When he returned, he held it up for them to see.
“Not foolproof,” Garrett explained. “Depends on the system. It might block the sensors, but the cameras could still be running.”
Raines gave a nod, considering. “Then, we do it smart. I’ll do a knock on the door, badge in hand, and see who answers. You two circle around back. If someone’s thinking of bolting, you’ll be waiting.”
Garrett exchanged a look with Isla. Her hair was plastered to her cheek from the drizzle, eyes sharp and steady despite the tension. She nodded.
“Works for me,” Garrett said, clipping the jammer to his belt and powering it on. “Let’s make sure no one slips through the cracks.”
Raines adjusted his jacket, his voice low and even. “All right then. Let’s see what’s behind those curtains.”
Raines moved steadily up the gravel drive, his figure a dark silhouette against the glow of the porch light. Garrett motioned to Isla, and together they cut into the thick brush lining the drive. The shrubs clawed at their jackets as they pushed through, boots sinking into wet earth. The drizzle slicked every leaf, dampening their movements but not enough to hide the crunch of branches underfoot.
They angled toward the rear of the house, keeping low. Through the shifting shadows Garrett caught a flicker of movement in the backyard. He tightened his grip on his weapon and picked up his pace, Isla matching him stride for stride.
They were within twenty yards when all hell broke loose.
A deafening roar split the air as the house ignited into a fireball, flames bursting through windows and tearing into the sky.
Chapter Twelve
Fiery debris rained down, hissing through the drizzle, and Isla’s heart lurched into her throat. She dropped with Garrett, pressing herself flat against the wet ground as bits of flaming wood and glass clattered around them. Heat rolled over her back, suffocating and fierce, and the roar of the fire filled her ears.
She tried to lift her head, just enough to glance through the smoke and chaos. No movement. No one bolting from the house. The shadowy figure they had seen only moments earlier was gone, swallowed up in the blaze.
Her stomach twisted. The person they’d seen behind those curtains. Were they still inside? The fire was devouring everything, flames racing up the walls, exploding out the windows, licking at the collapsing roof.
God, she hoped not. If someone was in there, they didn’t stand a chance.
“Incendiary device. Had to be.” Garrett’s voice cut through the roar of the fire, low and certain.
Isla didn’t have to ask why. The answer was burning right in front of them. Someone hadn’t wanted them anywhere near this place. Her chest tightened as she stared at the flames clawing through the roof. That meant this house had likely been more than just another dead end. It could have been where Harris had been brought after he was stolen from them.
But who had hidden him here? Paula? Leah? Randall? Or someone else entirely?
The sickness climbed higher in her throat when her mind turned to the worst thought of all. What if Harris had been the one inside? What if the shadow they saw behind the curtain had been him?
No!
She bit hard into the inside of her cheek, refusing to let panic take over. If he had been here, if he had been brainwashed all these years, he could have been told exactly what to do. Set the fire. Run if anyone came near.
Erase the evidence.
The possibility clawed at her, threatening to break her apart, but she forced herself to breathe. They had come too far to lose their grip on the truth now.
