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I followed his finger.
And froze.
"Oh my God."
Dad swore.
One of the boys gagged.
The other muttered something about needing a new job.
A dead coyote lay in the stall.
Its throat had been cut.
A black ribbon tied around its neck.
And hanging from the ribbon...
Was a photograph.
Me.
My stomach dropped.
Beast moved closer.
His face turning harder with every step.
The picture had been taken yesterday.
At the ranch.
Near the mailbox.
Close enough that whoever took it had been watching from the trees.
Watching us.
Watching me.
A note was taped to the back.
Beast pulled it free.
Read it.
His jaw flexed.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
"What does it say?" Dad asked.
Beast didn't answer.
That worried me more than anything.
