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Evan immediately stepped back.

Mace straightened. “Max.”

The dog stopped, but he didn’t look away from Evan.

“He doesn’t like me,” Evan said.

“He doesn’t know you.”

“I’ve always heard those dogs can sense bad people.”

Mace’s eyes hardened. “They’re trained to notice behavior.”

“What kind of behavior?”

“Fear. Aggression. A person preparing to run.”

Evan shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Take your hands out,” I said.

His gaze snapped toward me.

“Slowly.”

He removed them and held them at his sides. “Am I under arrest?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you should stop treating me like I am.”

“I’m treating you like a man who appeared at the exact house we’re searching without being told we were here.”

“You’re searching Tate’s house?”

“We’re going through my things,” Rylie answered. “There’s a difference.”

Evan looked at the sweatshirt again. “That from the camp?”

Rylie didn’t respond.

He moved closer to the table.

Trigger stepped into his path.

Evan stopped.

Trigger didn’t say a word.

He didn’t need to.

Evan was several inches shorter than him, but size wasn’t what made the difference. Trigger had spent years as an Army Ranger. He knew how to use silence as a warning.

Evan raised both hands. “I was only looking.”

“You can look from there,” Trigger said.

Evan lowered his hands. “Still taking care of everybody?”