Page 108 of Love Me Dangerous

Dad curses, his lips pressing together in a hard line.

“What?”

Dad just shakes his head.

I watch him for another moment, my skin prickling. Dad rarely raises his voice in anger, and he’s already done it today with Jesse. Either the added stress of Linnea missing is pushing him over the edge, or something is going on.

The road narrows and dead ends in a large parking area framed by a split rail fence. It’s empty except for one other vehicle, a battered-looking SUV that could be a mirage thanks to its white color and the swirling snow. Even the faded trail sign looks blurry, like the storm is getting worse.

“There,” Dad says, pointing to the break in the fencing that serves asthe entrance to the trail as he parks the truck. After snatching his binoculars from behind the seat, he jumps out. I hurry after him, balling my fists against the cold.

Henry and Zach pull in and park on the opposite side but I don’t look in their direction.

Dad’s strides are so long that I have to run to catch up. Just under the scrim of accumulating snow, I see what he noticed.

Tire tracks. Dad climbs the fence rails like a ladder and braces both shins against the top one for balance while he brings the binoculars to his eyes. I lower to the balls of my feet to get a better look at the tire tracks. I only see one tread, but I don’t know enough about tracking to know which direction they are going.

“See anything?” I call, my voice snatched by the wind.

Behind us, Henry’s truck doors slam, making me jolt.

Dad’s body is completely still as he slowly sweeps the landscape. He steps down and hands me the binoculars. “Keep looking. See if you spot the tracks up there.”

I take his place, hugging the top rung between my shins the same way, and lift the heavy glass to my eyes.

Footsteps approach but I don’t turn toward them.

“Rowdy, how can we help?” Henry asks, breathing hard.

Dad trots toward his rig. “I’m calling dispatch. We need to organize a search.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

ZACH

Henry hurries backto the truck to call Barb, leaving me alone with Sofie. A gust blasts through the treetops, the hardy branches like flailing arms. Snow swirls around us, the clouds low and thick. What visibility we have is deteriorating quickly.

“What kind of bike is it?” I ask over the wind. She has yet to look at me. I’m still confused. Why is Linnie out in this weather? Did something happen? But I don’t have a right to answers. Maybe I never did. My choices have made me an outsider. Again.

“A Honda 250F.”

A powerful bike like that could cover ten-plus miles an hour. If Linnea’s thirty minutes ahead of us, she could be in the next basin by now.

I stuff my hands in my pockets to warm them, my fingertips jabbing the burner phone that’s accompanied me every minute since that terrifying encounter in the larch grove.

Yesterday, I went to Stu’s office with The Limelight’s faded flyer I stole from the utility pole and lied about where I found it, with one edit—a circle around tonight’s date, when Buckshot Love will play to a sold-out crowd.

“Could they be using The Limelight?” I asked, secretly praying for him to take the bait.

Stu stared at the faded paper, frowning. “Damn. I’m calling the sheriff.”

I sat listening to Stu and Sheriff Olson formulate a plan while my gut churned. Because I knew the instant the bust they orchestrated turned up nothing, they’d come at me with pitchforks, demanding answers.

The YouTube clips of that arrest Sawyer told me about don’t reveal the second guy’s identity well enough for me to determine if Kristov is behind bars. Until I get better intel, I have to err on the side of caution.

Which is why I’m packed and ready to go.

Tomorrow morning, after The Limelight bust, when the cops are still chasing their tails and wondering what the hell went wrong. My meager savings are parceled out and stashed like before. My spare clothes rolled up inside, my water bottle filled. Though it goes against the planning Sawyer and I have maintained since I left, I haven’t told him yet. If anything goes wrong, he won’t have to lie for me.

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