Earl hesitated.
That was never good.
“He bought a box of shotgun shells.”
The air in the store went still.
Trigger swore quietly.
I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Because if I started talking, I might not stop.
“What direction did he go?”
Earl pointed toward the back road.
“County Twelve. Toward the old logging road.”
Wolf looked at me.
I already knew what he was thinking.
Old cabins.
Hunting shacks.
Abandoned trailers.
Places nobody visited unless they wanted to be left alone.
Gerald had found somewhere to hide.
Somewhere close enough to watch the ranch.
Somewhere with supplies.
And ammunition.
I stepped outside.
The afternoon sun hit my face.
The road stretched toward the hills.
Empty.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Trigger came beside me.
“We call Cooper.”
“We already did.”
