Page 56 of A Mile of Ocean

“Everyone except Woody and Monty in the south. They’re due to check in any minute.”

“Where’s Blake?”

“Gone to keep an eye on the shack.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Tate. We need to get him back here or send more men in to back him up until the cops get here.”

“I’ll go,” Tate volunteered. “You and Savannah take what you found to Trish.”

“Look, we don’t have a location on this guy. He could be anywhere. We paired up for a reason.”

“I can handle myself. Blake is there to see if he returns, then take him by surprise if he does. We can keep an eye on the place while waiting for the cops to arrive. You’re wasting time arguing with me.”

“You have to trust her, Trent,” Savannah urged. “Or, if you want to go back, I’ll take the notebook to Trish myself.”

“Go. I’ll be fine,” Tate said to her brother. “Blake knows to use the secondary channel.”

“But does he know not to approach that shed? Don’t get within fifty yards of the place.”

“I’ll tell him. Okay?”

“Fine. But keep me posted every ten minutes. I want to know you’re both safe.”

Tate nodded and pulled her hat tighter on her head before nudging Mermaid into a run. She rode east toward the shack while Trent and Savannah turned their horses west toward Base Camp. Anxiety battled fear as they rode. Each passing minute felt like an eternity.

Finally arriving at Base Camp, Trish met them in the downstairs entryway, her expression grim. “Bomb squad is on its way. But they’re making the trip from Santa Cruz. Their ETA is still forty-five minutes to that shack you pinpointed.”

“Tate and Blake are staking it out now. It’s dangerous for them to be out there. Not only could he return at any minute, but the thing could blow up with that many explosives. We need to send a backup team to fortify their presence. Make sure they understand to keep their distance.”

“With Birk and Beckett still on the roof, they can protect the house. We should send Drum and Hawk or Lincoln and Cecil.”

“Drum and Hawk are too far away,” Trent decided as he picked up the radio. “Lincoln and Cecil are closer.”

“What’s this about a notebook?” Trish asked, handing him a pair of latex gloves.

After communicating the location of the shack to Lincoln and Cecil, Trent handed the radio to Savannah and slipped on the gloves to remove the still-damp notebook from his jacket. He passed it over to Trish. “Be careful turning the pages. Some of them got wet and aren’t easy to read.”

With gloved hands, Trish flipped through the little notebook, her brow furrowed in concern. “This individual was absolutely serious about his mission. This shows motive. Revenge. Premeditation. Did you see these entries about your grandmother?”

“Where?”

Trish pointed to several pages dedicated to the Duchess Callum. “He’s got a bone to pick with her for sure. Look, I need to get this to forensics to see if they can lift any prints.”

She immediately radioed the station so that Theo could pick up the notebook.

But when a crackle came over the radio, it was Tate reporting in. “We’ve got movement near the shack,” Tate whispered, looking through her night goggles. “The man is a White male, six feet tall, approximately thirty-five, weighing two hundred pounds or so. He’s wearing all-black. And he’s here to move the crates with the bombs onto a quad. There’s somethingstrange about the wheels, though. He’s used some kind of tape to cover the tread.”

“No matter what he does, do not approach him,” Savannah cautioned. “Lincoln and Cecil should be coming up on your left flank in about three minutes to provide support.”

“We can’t just let him leave with those pipe bombs,” Tate pointed out.

Trent took the radio from Savannah. His jaw was clenched in worry. He knew Tate was right, but the thought of confronting the man with explosives sent a shiver down his spine. “Listen to me, Tate. Keep your distance and stay hidden. We can’t risk anyone else getting hurt. Just give us updates on his movements until the others get there,” he directed, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

As they waited for Lincoln and Cecil, they stood by anxiously, listening to Tate’s reports on the radio.

“Jeez, how many pipe bombs were in there?” Tate wondered as she watched their suspect keep carrying out more wooden crates. “He’s gone back inside again. Wait a second. I hear horses coming in fast. It has to be Cecil and Lincoln. Yep, they’re here. Uh-oh, I think the guy heard it, too. He stepped outside but went back in again. Don’t get any closer, Blake—” she warned. Before Tate could finish that sentence, a sudden explosion rocked the ground. The earth shook in a magnitude on the Richter scale that felt like a 6.5 quake.

The deafening blast echoed through the night, sending shockwaves of panic through the rest of the team listening in. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring their vision. Tate’s heart pounded as she desperately tried to peer through the chaos to assess the situation. The explosion had originated from the direction of the shack where their suspect had been handling the crates of explosives.

---