Page 89 of High Intensity

I close the zipper on the plastic bag after giving Hunter another sniff at Hayley’s pillowcase.

She didn’t really need it—she’s had the girl’s scent since we left the FBI safe house—but I’ve been trying to slow down our progress to allow Wolff’s team to catch up.

A little over a mile into the search, I started getting the sense I was being watched, and not long after I thought I heard some movement behind me, but I couldn’t see anything. That happened a few more times since, and right before I radioed Wolff, I caught a glimpse of something moving in the trees about a hundred yards or so back.

It’s a fair guess it would be one of two possibilities; either Grant Vallard ignored my warning and was able to slip away from under the FBI’s scrutiny, or Bellinger returned and is hoping I find Hayley for him. I’m guessing the Bureau won’t look kindly on him losing a witness under his protection—especially when the witness is a minor and the heiress to a vast fortune—so it makes sense he’d do anything to get her back.

Either way, I don’t want to lead either of these men to Hayley’s whereabouts until I have a chance to talk to her alone and find out why she ran. That’s why I asked Wolff and his team to try and run interference, while I find the girl.

Pretending Hunter needed another sniff of Hayley’s scent bought the guys another few minutes to catch up with us.

“Go find her, Hunter.”

There is no hesitation as the dog pulls on her leash and leads me toward the rear of my property. I have to resist the urge to constantly look over my shoulder and focus on my dog instead.

I can hear my dogs barking in the house the moment we step clear of the trees. They must’ve seen us coming. Hunter seems unaffected by the ruckus inside the house and instead aims for the dog run on the far side of the yard. Even from a distance I can tell the small door to the kennel is open a crack. I always make sure I keep that closed so other critters can’t get in and make a house.

I’m so focused on the small building, it takes me a moment to realize the barking from inside my house has reached a fevered pitch, but by then it’s too late.

“Where the fuck is she?”

The first thing I notice when I whirl around is the barrel of a gun aimed at my face.

Twenty-Six

Wolff

My adrenaline has been pumping hard since Jillian’s radio call.

I quickly raised James and Jackson on a different frequency to get them up to speed, before JD and I urged our horses ahead. The guys were going to continue on the other side of the creek to make sure we didn’t miss anything, while we tried to catch up with Jillian.

We covered that half mile to her place in record time, even though it felt way too long. When I recognized how close to her house we were getting, I slowed down Judge and eventually dismounted. I’d prefer not to announce our arrival. I can much better control the situation when I keep the element of surprise.

We leave the horses tied to a tree and proceed on foot, JD falling into step behind me as I try to keep as low a profile as possible, using the cover of the trees. We’re just able to catch sight of Jillian’s green jacket disappearing through the trees. It looks like she may be heading for her own backyard, but my focus is behind her, where I hope to see a glimpse of whoever she thought might be following her.

“What are we doing?” JD whispers behind me when I stop and settle in behind cover of a wide trunk.

“Waiting to see who’s on her tail.”

But when nothing moves after a few moments, I start wondering if it’s possible Jillian may have mistaken the movement of some wildlife for a person. I guess it’s always possible—she never said she actually saw apersonfollowing her—but I’d rather be sure.

“Let’s move closer,” I suggest, but when we get to where I saw Jillian cut toward the houses, there is still no sign of any pursuer.

Part of me wants to go after her and make sure she’s okay, but I can’t simply assume she misinterpreted the situation. From experience, I know that rarely ends well.

“I can retrace her steps and see if I can find any secondary tracks,” JD suggests, offering a solution to my dilemma. “Why don’t you stick close to her?”

Giving him a thumbs-up, I don’t waste any time and turn toward her yard.

I hear dogs barking when I’m about to step out from the cover of the trees. I can see the back of the house from here and notice Emo and Peanut, their front legs up against the sliding door as they bark furiously at something on the side of the backyard.

I see her before I see him, her hands up defensively, and when I realize why, my blood runs cold.

The gunshot is loud, and when I watch Jillian sink to her knees, my heart stops.

Jillian

“Where’s the girl?”

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