Micha leaned forward. “Wonder if he built it himself or if it was an existing structure when he bought it, and he hasn’t had a chance to reinforce it.”
Ava squinted against the falling sun out the side window. “Either way, it hardly looks safe to go inside.”
“The good news is it’s so small it won’t take long to search,” Micha said. “And I don’t see any outbuildings.”
“We should get moving.” Colin opened his door. “The sun is setting fast, and we’ll soon lose all light.”
Micha reached under his seat, his hand coming out holding a flashlight and headlamp. “I always come prepared.”
“Well, aren’t you the regular boy scout?” Colin slid out.
Micha glanced over his shoulder. “Colin will stand watch out here, and you’ll still come inside with me as planned, but be careful.”
“Roger that,” she said, getting an odd look from both guys at her response as they got out of the vehicle.
Micha opened her door and took disposable gloves from his pocket. He gave a pair to her. “Put these on, but I’d still rather you wouldn’t touch anything without asking me first.”
She resisted sayingroger thatagain, but why would she when she’d gotten such an odd response the first time? She nodded instead and struggled to get her fingers into the tight gloves. He didn’t have a hard time at all and drew his sidearm. She slid out.
He handed over his flashlight. “Stay behind me in case he’s booby-trapped the place.”
“Buck seems like the kind of guy who might do that.”
Micha drew his weapon and started through tall grass in an area that should’ve been mowed. Or at least an area she would mow. No telling what was living in this grass and could come into the house. But then again, with the house being more of a shack, just mowing the clearing wouldn’t stop critters from joining you inside.
“Hopefully, this grass will spring back up before Buck gets home.” Micha picked up a long stick from one of the many towering trees on the property, one leaning precariously over the shack. “Don’t want him to know someone’s been here.”
“Might not matter if we find something to implicate him in working with Layne. Then he might not be coming home at all.”
“That would be too easy.” Micha continued to move slowly through the grass, poking the ground with the stick and occasionally pausing. “Besides, even if we locate a connection today, we’ll still have to prove his involvement in another way.”
“Right, because entering his house without permission isn’t legal.”
He nodded. “Just like using the tracker. If we locate something, the police won’t be able to use it unless we can legitimately obtain the information.”
“Good thing we have you on our side to remember all the rules.”
He didn’t say anything, but his shoulders raised a fraction at her compliment. He was a strong man and probably didn’t need to be complimented on his abilities, but strong or not, all people needed positive feedback.
They reached the front door Buck had locked with a heavy metal hasp and padlock. Micha felt around the door and then took a small tool kit from his pocket. “Strong lock, but with the way the wood is splintering, it wouldn’t hold if someone wanted to get in here.”
He glanced around the area, then holstered his weapon. He removed a couple of metal tools from the case and inserted them in the lock. The padlock soon dropped open.
“Is there anything you can’t do?” she asked.
“I can sew on a button and stitch up a wound, but beyond that I wouldn’t win any sewing prize.” He laughed. “And forget knitting or crocheting.”
If he weren’t opening the door, she might continue this conversation, but his laughter had faded, and his shoulders tensed. She didn’t need to be hit over the head to know it was time to be even more vigilant.
“Stay here and stay alert,” he said. “Let me sweep this place inside for tripwires.”
He turned on his headlamp and eased through the door. She shone her flashlight ahead of his feet, too.
“Thanks,” he said but didn’t look back.
She took in the small, one-room place. Wood everywhere. Walls. Ceiling. Floors. All wide boards with big gaps between them. An old wood stove sat on rocks that looked like they were harvested from the property and mortared into place. Next to it, Buck had created a towering stack of wood that balanced precariously, and a wooden rocking chair rested in front of the stove.
A small kitchen held only three cabinets painted a shocking green, plus a white cast-iron sink with a red hand pump. The other corner held a narrow twin bed with a vintage plaid quilt that looked very much like the WWII-era memory quilts she’d seen on anAntiques Roadshowepisode. Rain gear and heavy work clothes were hung on pegs pounded into the wall beside it.
