“Grant made his choice,” Izzy said, staring at the trail ahead. “He wanted realistic. He wanted distance. I’m just filling the space.”
They rounded the final bend.
The trail narrowed.
The trees closed in.
The cabin appeared through the brush—gray, weathered, and silent.
Suddenly, the front door slammed against the exterior wall with a crack like a gunshot.
A figure in a dark hoodie exploded off the porch.
They didn't look back.
They hit the thicket at a dead run, moving with the terrifying speed of someone who knew the mountain by heart.
“Hey!” Izzy shouted.
Ghost danced beneath her.
Jasper shied hard to the side.
“Whoa!” Caitlin grabbed for the reins, fighting to steady him. “Izzy!”
The figure disappeared into the trees.
Gone.
“Who was that?”
Caitlin’s hands shook as she dug her phone from her pocket and hit speed dial.
“Burke,” she said the second he answered. “Somebody was at the cabin. They just ran. They headed toward the Hollis property line. We're right outside.”
“Get out of there.”
Burke's voice cracked through the speaker, pure sheriff.
“Caitlin, turn those horses around and get back to Grant’s house right now. Do you hear me? I’m rolling with lights.”
“He’s right, Cate.”
Izzy's eyes never left the open cabin door.
“But we have to check the desk. If they were looking for what Clara hid, we need to know if they found it. It'll take two minutes.”
“Burke said go back!”
But Izzy was already swinging out of Ghost's saddle.
“If we leave now,” she said, “they’ll come back for it.”
“Izzy—”
“Stay on the phone with him.”
28
