Page 47 of Secrets in the Deep

Don’t lie. You know the memories we would have made. The life we would have created.

Air hissed through his teeth. Because it was true. If he hadn’t let her go that night, if he hadn’t feltobligatedto let the world witness her talent, then there wasn’t a chance in hell he would have let her slip away.

He pulled into the clearing beside the movie trailers, a patrol car, and four trucks already scattered around the area.

“What’s going on?” he asked, as he crossed the space between his truck and the guys.

A young male deputy glanced up. Shit, he looked like a kid. “Nine-one-one got a call. It was one of the guys from the movie needing help.”

Ryan lifted a brow. “Help?”

The kid looked at a female deputy beside him. She didn’t seem much older.

“Preston,” the woman said. “Preston Painter. He told dispatch he was dropped off, went into his trailer but heard something outside. Went out to check and some guy in a mask chased him into the woods. The call dropped at that point.”

The fuck?

Ryan looked at Zac and Connor. “He was just at the bar.”

The male deputy dipped his head. “Sounded drunk. His words were slurred. But he said the person chasing him had a knife.”

“We don’t know these woods well enough in the dark,” the woman added, looking around like it was the first time she’d seen them.

“We’ve got it from here.” Ryan turned to his team. “We’ll split the search into sectors. Ethan, you’re on the north slope. Zac, take the east ridge. Joel, you’re on the river. Pay close attention to banks. Connor, you’re on the southern approach, and I’m taking west. Copy?”

One by one, the team affirmed they understood.

“Stay armed,” he finished.

The guys split up, each slipping into the forest at a different entry point, flashlights raised and guns ready.

Ryan looked at the deputies. “Have you alerted your sheriff?”

The guy pulled at his collar uncomfortably. “He’s not answering.”

Of course he wasn’t. The lazy asshole probably had his phone switched off. “Stay here and alert us if you see anything. If thereissomeone in that forest with a weapon, make sure you have your own ready.”

They both nodded. And they both looked scared. Jesus, they barely seemed old enough to hold a gun.

Once he grabbed his own gear from his truck, he slipped into the forest and started to move. There was a chance Preston was so drunk that the threat was in his head. But if it wasn’t, if there really was a masked asshole chasing him with a knife, Ryan would be ready.

The beam of his flashlight cut a thin white tunnel through the trees, catching the shine of wet bark and the steady fall of rain. He barely noticed. He’d completed ops in torrential downpours; this sprinkle was nothing.

He searched for broken branches. Disturbed earth. Anything that might show where someone had stumbled off the trail.

The deeper he went, the thicker and darker the forest grew.

His radio crackled. “Anything?” Ethan asked.

Ryan was the first to respond, “Negative.” One by one, the rest of the team piped in.

No one had found Preston or even a hint that he’d been in the forest. Not yet. But they would.

Rain tapped softly through the trees, Ryan’s steps as quiet as the air around him.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. It was at the twenty-minute mark that he saw them.

Footprints.