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They moved in.
One at the front.
One at the back.
Wolf and Trigger covered the windows.
I stayed near the porch.
Every muscle tight.
Every instinct screaming.
The sheriff kicked the door open.
“Clear!”
We entered fast.
The cabin smelled like dust.
Mold.
Old wood.
And something else.
Fear.
The room was empty.
No Gerald.
No Darren.
No sign of anyone.
Then I saw the table.
A notebook sat in the center.
Open.
Beside it was a pair of binoculars.
A map.
A box of shotgun shells.
My stomach dropped.
I stepped closer.
The notebook had pages filled with writing.
Times.
Names.
