Page 49 of A Mile of Ocean

“The cameras don’t cover everything,” Trent stated between bites. “My guess is after Colt and Theo found his campsite. Our guy headed for higher ground. He’s hiding in those rocky foothills. There’s only one way to take this up a notch.”

“We have to go up there and flush him out,” Woody finished.

“Exactly. And during the daytime.”

“He has the advantage. He’ll see us coming a mile away,” Cecil noted. “He could pick us off one by one with that assault rifle.”

“I could take the helicopter up,” Eastlyn offered, entering the room and heading for the sideboard where the coffee was set up.

“He sees a flyover that will tip him off to move again,” Trent pointed out. “We don’t want that. But sending a drone up to pinpoint his location would certainly be to our advantage.”

Beckett nodded. “We could fly it in from the mountaintop. Since he’s so active at night, we might catch him asleep. It’s worth a try.”

“What do you think, Birk?” Trent asked.

“I think this guy is beginning to piss me off. His end-game is to outlast us. Hiding up in the foothills is one way to do that. Hiding anywhere nearby and hitting us in a surprise attack is his way of controlling the situation. The only other way is to set a trap for him and lure him into it. We all know he wants something in this house. We bait him and see what happens.”

“You’re saying everyone pretends to leave, and you think he’ll make a play for the house like he did before right in front of the security detail,” Trent prompted.

“Yeah. Because he’s either arrogant or crazy, probably both. Send the drone up today. Eastlyn and Trish carry one in their trunk at all times. You need to find out if he’s even there. Then we trick him into thinking the coast is clear, that he’s won. Draw him out tonight and see if he’ll bite.”

“Risky tactic,” Hawk expressed, biting into his bacon. “But then, so is everything else we’ve tried. We can’t keep up the patrols twenty-four-seven. Not enough men.”

“Look, if he’s up in the foothills and wants to get into this house, he has to make his move at some point,” Birk reasoned. “If Beckett or I get a chance to pick him off, your problem is over. We go home, and you return to ranch life like before.”

“Give it some thought while we catch some shuteye,” Beckett urged. “Your grandmother offered us a room upstairs. I’m taking her up on it. Kelly’s away at a marine reforestation conference. The dogs are here, so there’s no reason for me to go home until Thursday.”

Birk nodded. “Same here. Jade’s busy with a true crime blogger from the Bay Area. They’re trying to solve a cold case from five years ago.”

Trent steepled his fingers over his plate. “So, let me get this straight. My one and only option —other than to charge up into the hillside where he’ll see us coming—is to send up a drone, locate him, make sure he’s there, and then lure him back into the house tonight in a trap that hopefully works.”

“There is no sure-fire option, no easy answer,” Birk lamented. “You’re between a rock and a hard place, as they say.”

“And what do you use as bait?” Savannah asked.

“If I understand the gist, to make it look real, our guy needs to believe that everyone packed up and left, except family and the ranch hands. Those remaining behind would be at risk until the rest snuck back to the ranch somehow, someway without being detected, and took up their positions again to surprisehim.” Trent shook his head. “It sounds crazy. Am I the only one who feels that way?”

“It sounds too complicated to pull off,” Hawk said. “How do they return to the ranch without anyone seeing them?”

“Wait a second, I think I’ve got it. We could use the weekly supply run as a cover,” Trent submitted. “For example, let’s say Toby heads into town for supplies. He drives my Ford crew cab with our largest horse trailer hooked up. He drives out of the gate and heads to Pelican Pointe. Meanwhile, everyone gets into their vehicles and leaves the ranch. They follow Toby into town. They meet up with him and hop into the truck or climb in the back of the horse trailer. Toby brings them back, pulling straight into the barn and unloading where no one else sees what’s happening.”

“That might just work,” Woody said, nodding in approval.

Beckett stood up to put his dirty plate and utensils into the plastic bus box nearby. “You decide which way you want to go. Right now, I need some sleep.”

Birk followed his brother’s lead and deposited his dirty plate and cup into the plastic bin. “Eastlyn can work the drone. Get her to help you with it and let us know what you find.”

The brothers walked out and headed upstairs to their rooms, leaving everyone else to finish their meal.

Brock walked in, looking paler than usual. “I heard the commotion. What can I do to help?”

“Let that wound heal up,” Woody directed. “You’re no good to anyone until you can use that arm again.”

“Dr. Blackwood said there was no nerve damage, but he should get physical therapy to regain function, strength, and muscle tone faster,” Tate added. “I made him an appointment with the new physical therapist in town at the end of the week. Her name’s Dakota Fallon. And I promised we’d all donate blood at the first opportunity.”

“There’s a new physical therapist in town?” Monty asked. “I might just get myself injured so she can work her magic on me.”

“I wouldn’t recommend getting shot so you can meet her,” Tate scolded. “Just ask Brock about how difficult it was getting patched up. Besides, Dakota is gorgeous and way out of your league.”

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