Page 30 of High Frequency

“I told you; you need DEET.”

I angrily spray myself before twisting my body to face him.

“I will have you know that studies have shown Skin So Soft is eighty-five-percent effective.”

My ass is sore, I have bug bites covering every inch of exposed skin, and my feet are still wet in my damn boots. To top it off, I’ve needed to pee for the past two hours but am afraid if I pull down my pants, I’ll only create a fresh new target for the freaking skeeters.

I’m not in the mood, but that doesn’t appear to deter Dan. He once again seems to have an answer ready.

“You mean eighty-five-percent as effectiveasDEET, which makes DEET still the better choice. I’ve read the study.”

He reaches back to pull his own can of bug repellant from his bag and leans over.

My glare has zero impact on him as he patiently waits me out, making me feel like a petulant child. Of course I give in, I don’t really have a choice or I’ll look like an even bigger ass.

I’m just so damn miserable and the thought of spending the night away from my baby isn’t helping.

“This stuff stinks,” I can’t resist pointing out.

It’s the main reason I didn’t want to use it in the first place.

“The mosquitos think so too.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

Instead of answering, Dan suddenly tilts his head back and seems to be peering up through the trees. Abruptly he pulls back on his reins, bringing Will to a halt. Then he looks back at me with a grin, and points up.

“Look up. Remember the arrow I painted? We’re here.”

The first thing I do when we dismount is run into the bushes and shove down my pants.

At this point, I have zero inhibitions.

Relieved beyond belief, I join Dan, who has removed the gear and the saddles from the horses, and is spanning a rope between two trees.

The spot he chose to set up camp is a small clearing at the edge of the creek. I remember seeing it from above.

“What can I do?”

“Get out of those wet boots. You brought dry socks and running shoes, right?”

“Yes, I packed everything Sully told me to.”

“Let me finish getting the horses settled and I’ll do the same. Then let’s go to work.”

I glance in the approximate direction I believe the body to be and suppress a shudder. As much as I’m eager to get some answers, I’m not looking forward to it.

Ten minutes later, I follow Dan’s broad back into the trees. My feet are dry, my bladder is blissfully empty, and—although I hate to admit it—the bugs are finally leaving me alone. I try to keep my eyes fixed somewhere between his shoulder blades, but it’s a bit of a challenge since his ass is a sight to behold in those well-ridden Wranglers.

Heck, my own jeans are molded to my butt in a way that feels like they’re tattooed on. Not a surprise after being in the saddle for almost nine hours. I’m feeling it too and it’ll probably feel worse in the morning, but for now, I’m glad to be walking.

When we reach the base of the rock wall, I tilt my head back and spot the arrow up above. That means the body is somewhere to our left. When I glance in that direction, my view is blocked by a large boulder.

I tentatively sniff the air, but I can’t smell much beyond the aroma of damp earth and pine. No scent of decay, which confirms what I already suspected; the body has been down here for a while, which is easier to deal with. Still, I feel a bit guilty at the surge of relief. It doesn’t matter how long the body has been down here, it was a person once.

“You lead,” Dan says, gesturing for me to pass him.

As soon as I find my way to the other side of the boulder, I spot the flat rock, and the yellow coat caught on it. I stop and lift my camera, snapping pictures as I slowly move toward it.

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