Page 31 of Love Me Fearless

The crunch of gravel under my boots draws a few looks in my direction. Most are men in their forties and fifties. Some are likely Captain Greely’s firefighters helping out on their day off, but there’s a kid young enough to be in high school. Marin’s boyfriend?

“Where the hell did you come from?” Captain Greely says to me, arching an eyebrow.

“Uh, Florida, sir,” I reply. To anyone else, this could be a gentle ribbing. But he’s going to have to try harder than that to rattle me. Like, a lot harder.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then returns to outlining his plan and what little we know about Marin’s movements.

“Hutchins,” Captain Greely says with a nod as we break into teams. “You’re with me.”

As we break into teams, a friend I haven’t seen in years, Jeremy Fisher, trots over. He left the Air Force and moved home about a year ago, but I don’t know details. We’re not close the way we used to be.

“Heard about your mom.”

I huff a sigh because if he’s heard, then half of Finn River has too, and my mom won’t like it one bit. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Let’s hang out before you leave town,” Jeremy says, then flashes me a grin before rejoining his team splitting off into the orchard.

I hurry to catch up with Captain Greely’s team turning into the gravel parking area. The third team continues to the dirt road that disappears into the trees, toward the river.

“Has anyone pulled surveillance cam footage from that service station two miles back?” I ask Captain Greely. The cool air feels thick in my throat and the wet ground edging the road has a sharp, almost bitter scent.

He doesn’t break his stride. “Not our role here.”

He’s right, yet it would be nice to know if Marin Lambert was seen on her way here, and if she was alone.

“Has anyone else come forward with information?”

He shoots me an icy glare. “You and Troy are gonna sweep the road and look for signs she may have been on foot. Don’t step in any of the tire tracks.”

“Understood,” I say, resisting the urge to snap my heels together.

The parking lot’s gravel has turned to a soupy mud thanks to last night’s snow. Tire tracks crisscross the area from both sides of the corner. There’s no way Zach’s team is going to find anything useful. Deeper into the trees, thin patches of snow haven’t melted, but none are marked by tire treads. On a snowy Wednesday night in May, it’s not like a lot of kids would be out here.

Parked at the far end of the lot is a white Ford Ranger, dented on one side, the paint rusted at the crease in the metal, like it happened long ago. The paint on the tailgate is scratched thin, probably from loading hay bales. Like it was a farm truck in its former life.

The deputy working the vehicle with Zach glances up just as I realize who it is—Everett Rumsey, a fellow Finn River Falcons football teammate and one of the few friends who have stayed in touch.

I’m tempted to ask about his big, boisterous family and his nine-year old son Logan, but we both have work to do, so catching up will have to wait.

Everett gives me a quick nod in acknowledgment, and I do the same.

Captain Greely peels off in their direction but I continue to the road that snakes up into the trees. Troy falls in next to me.

“You friends with Marin?” I ask him.

He nods.

“I’m Ryan,” I say.

“Troy,” he replies. Our eyes meet for a split second. I’m no mind reader, but his face is set in determination. Or maybe it’s dread.

Where was he last night?

“What are we looking for?” Troy asks.

In between rocky sections, the road is marked by several tire tracks—someone has driven this road recently. No obvious footprints, but it’s too rocky to be sure. I study the lush grass edging the road for any kind of disturbance. “Anything out of place. Anything that catches your eye. A color that shouldn’t be there, or a broken section of vegetation. A sound. A smell.”

He grimaces. “Okay.”

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