Page 65 of When the Silence Breaks

“They left their stuff,” the man muttered, his voice gravelly and congested like he had a cold.

“They’ll be back.”

Great. More than one remained inside the cabin. He was in trouble. Had he miscalculated how many men had gone into the cabin to begin with? He could’ve sworn he’d seen three in total go into the cabin, three come out, and then two by the lake.

“Not if they know we’re here,” Gravelly Voice said.

A radio squawked. “Check the woods again. They might’ve circled back, or they could be escaping, and we can’t let that happen.”

“They left the map.” Gravelly. “We don’t need them anymore.”

“That’s right. We’ve gotyou. But we still can’t let them escape.”

“You don’t know that we don’t need them.” Gravelly sounded desperate. And ... familiar.

That voice ... he recognized it.You’ve got to be kidding me.Boots clomped as someone made for the door. Okay, Ryder wasn’t going in the front door. He didn’t want to face off with these guys. Not here. Not now. These men weren’t Tangos in a war zone. He wasn’t authorized to take them out, and he wasn’t about to turn this into a full-blown operation, especially since he was rusty at best.

But they likely had skills, and they could also have permission. This could be an official operation to track down and secure or take out the perceived threat.

And right now, that threat was coming from Ryder and Sarah—a former Navy SEAL and a former CIA intelligence operative who were trying to find a cache of bioweapons.

How had he let it come to this?

Ryder’s pulse ticked higher. He pushed the blankets out of the way, eased the window open—thankfully, the old hinges made no sound—and slid inside. He landed light on his feet and crouched behind the ramshackle sofa without making a sound. The fire crackled in the woodstove, which added some sound to cover up any noises he might accidentally make.

They must have stoked it.Thank you very much.

Maybe he wasn’t as rusty as he thought. He calmed his breathing. One breath. Two.

The other man paced the room.

The table had been overturned, and Ryder’s pack had been rummaged through. But there—by the edge of the hearth—themetal box sat open, the folded map beside it, and the vial still sealed and gleaming faintly under the flashlight beam left behind on the floor.

Every movement calculated, he crawled forward on hands and knees.

Voices moved toward the back of the cabin and in the direction where he’d left Sarah, and that told him he was running out of time. The man who remained behind stepped out on the porch, holding his SAT phone.Who are you working for?

But his movement gave Ryder just the opening he needed. He snatched the vial, slipped it into his jacket pocket, then the map, folded hastily. His pack was halfway across the room. He belly-crawled over to it and shouldered it. At least two of the men had left their packs behind—maybe theyhadintended to stay the night and to question Ryder and Sarah. He moved over to their packs and grabbed one—the additional supplies could prove useful.

The floorboard creaked beneath him.

Too loud.

He froze.

Footsteps on the porch halted. No words. Ryder imagined the man waiting and listening. Possibly giving hand signals if someone else was out there too.

Another man had returned. “Probably a rat.”

“Biggest rat I’ve ever—”

Then a sudden shout outside—“Movement at the tree line!”—drew the men toward the door.

God, please don’t let that be Sarah.

But this was his moment. He darted to the window, boosted the packs, and dropped them slowly then followed them out. He landed hard but rolled behind shrubs with the packs, careful to avoid the pocket where he’d stashed the vial.

He crouched low, scanned the woods—and nearly choked with relief when he spotted Sarah, right where he’d left her. Keeping low and in the shadows, he closed the short distance to meet her at the base of a tree.