going to get him.”
“I know. But we’d better hurry.”
Returning his mind to Hoffman, he started jogging again. A few yards later they reached a trail. It wasn’t much bigger than a deer path, narrow and bumpy with tree roots, but it was the first sign of civilization they’d seen.
His heart began to drum. The trail widened and turned. And then he glimpsed a light through the trees.
He came to stop, throwing his arm out to keep Brynn back. “Quiet,” he warned her. He turned off the flashlight, then crept to the edge of a clearing. In the center was Hoffman’s car. So there had been another road in. It just hadn’t appeared on the map.
He ducked behind a tree, thinking hard. Brynn stood close behind him, her breath rasping in his ear. There were two log cabins and a toolshed, similar to the one at Hoffman’s house. The lights were on in both.
He checked his watch. Within minutes Terry Lewis would be arriving at the farmhouse. But there’d been no way to leave a note, no way to tell her where they’d gone. For now they were on their own.
He tucked the flashlight into his pocket and pulled out his sidearm. “Stay behind me,” he murmured. Then he led the way toward the nearest cabin, the faint glow flickering through the window guiding the way. He ducked below the window, waited for Brynn to join him, then rose and peeked inside. He scanned the bunk beds along the wall, the dresser and corner desk. The computer on top of the desk was on, its soft glow illuminating the room. But Hoffman was nowhere in sight.
“Wait here.” His nerves stretched tight, he climbed the steps to the door. Then he nudged it open and stepped inside. No one was there. He went to the desk and searched the drawers, unearthing a pedophile’s treasure trove—computer disks, photos of naked children, magazines. In the bottom desk drawer was a cache of necklaces, all bearing that hand-engraved heart design.
They’d found their proof—enough to put Hoffman away for good. But they had to find him first.
He forced in a calming breath, the need to exact vengeance riding him hard. Then he hurried through the door and rounded the building.
But Brynn was gone.
Chapter 15
Parker stood stock-still in the cabin’s shadows, shutting down every thought but one. Hoffman had taken Brynn hostage.
He had to save the woman he loved.
He shifted deeper into the shadows, careful not to make any sound. Then he stopped behind a tree and listened intently, struggling to hear above the stark fear bludgeoning his skull. Tree branches creaked overhead. A night creature cried in the distance, the wild sound scraping his nerves. The frigid wind gusted, howling through a crack in the wooden shed, while bushes frothed in the pulsing night.
It was too quiet. Too tense. Locking his gaze on the second cabin, Parker battled the need billowing inside him to burst through that door in a frenzy and rescue Brynn. But he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. He had to stay cool and think this through—or Brynn would pay with her life.
He melted farther into the darkness, every sense attuned to the slightest sounds. He skirted a rotting woodpile, crept to the small shed standing between the cabins and peered inside. Empty, just as he’d expected.
Only one place left.
He merged back into the forest, taking a circuitous path through the trees. Twigs crackled underfoot. The brisk wind blew again, raising goose bumps along his spine while ice congealed in his heart. Something had tipped Hoffman off. Did he have a scanner inside the cabin? Had his wife somehow seen them at the house and contacted him? Was he aware that even now police were converging on the camp, preparing to bring him down?
If so, he’d be desperate, even more dangerous, which didn’t bode well for Brynn.
Dread making his heart thud, Parker neared the cabin and stopped. He took a deep pull of air, struggling to think through the overload of adrenaline blurring his mind, and snuck a peek at his watch. The police should have reached the farmhouse by now. Local law enforcement would take the lead, coordinating the SWAT and HRT teams as they searched the camp. Given Hoffman’s rank, Lieutenant Lewis would be on scene, along with various department bigwigs—the deputy commissioner, a PR representative, the head of internal affairs.
But none of that was going to help Parker. No one knew about these old cabins. No one knew where