He moved his horse up closer to Jenna as they maneuvered through a tight switchback. “Hey, Jenna. Don’t get too far ahead of me.”
She slowed and turned in her saddle, a concerned look on her face. “You okay?”
“Yeah, and if that crazy is in the area, I want to be close by.” He looked ahead, seeing only the tip of Duke’s tail moving through the long grass. “Even Duke is invisible up here.”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to allow a serial killer to spoil the forest for me.” She dropped her reins and spread her arms wide. “This place is magnificent, and when I’m out here with you, I feel safe not scared. When this nightmare is over, we have to spend a weekend up here and regenerate.” She tipped her head toward Rowley moving away in the distance. “He would make a good agent. His head has been turning in all directions. He is getting like you and watching every movement.”
He smiled at her. “You trained him well.”
Ahead Rowley had stopped and turned around, regarding them with interest. Kane waved at him. “How much further?”
“The border of their land is just over there.” Rowley pointed into the distance. “I can see the signs.”
“Okay, hold up, I’ll give them a call.” Kane slipped the cellphone from his pocket and called the number. “Mr. Blythe, this is Deputy Kane. The sheriff needs to speak with you about a man seen trespassing in this area at night. Can we come up to the house?”
“I guess, but I don’t know nothin’ ’bout no trespassers.”
“Thanks, we’ll be there directly.” Kane disconnected and nodded at Jenna. “We’re good to go.”
He urged his horse forward and followed Rowley to an overgrown driveway; no gate but “No trespassing” signs written haphazardly in red across rough boards littered the area. The paint on the hand-drawn letters had dripped down the boards like blood, giving each one a macabre tone as if to add to the warning. The smell of rotting flesh wafted toward them, and he shot a glance at Jenna. “That doesn’t smell good.”
“Be on alert, we don’t know what to expect.” Jenna’s eyes flashed a warning as she uncovered her sidearm and rested her palm on the handle of her pistol.
When Duke gave his characteristic whine, telling Kane to beware, the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. He turned to Rowley. “Fall back and stay in the cover of the trees; they don’t know you are with us and we might need you to watch our backs. Have your rifle at the ready.”
“Sure thing.” Rowley moved his horse into the shadows of the pines.
“Oh!” Jenna pulled up beside him, her mouth turned down in obvious disgust. “Are they skins?”
Kane stared at the dilapidated cabin with a rickety old porch. Various skins, squirrel and maybe rat, dangled from the front porch, crawling with flies. “Yeah, I figure they use them for blankets. Walters mentioned they rarely go into town unless it’s to buy ammunition. He also said they have an arsenal of weapons and Brayden might be an old man but he is a tough SOB.”
“They eat rats?” Jenna’s face blanched. “That’s disgusting.”
Kane wrinkled his nose. “I’d say the men inside the cabin won’t smell too good either. How do you want to handle this, ma’am?”
“I’ll do the talking.” She lifted her chin and gave him a determined stare. “You keep your hand on your weapon. We could be stirring up a bee’s nest.”
The front door of the cabin creaked open a crack and the long barrel of a rifle slid through the opening.
Jenna’s voice rang out, loud and clear. “Brayden Blythe, this is Sheriff Alton. Lower your weapon. I’m not here to arrest you. I just need to ask you some questions.”
“I have the right to bear arms to protect my property.” Blythe’s gray head stuck out. “Throw your weapons on the ground and I’ll talk.”
“That is not going to happen, Mr. Blythe.” Jenna moved her horse forward in a show of courage. “Or do you have reason to hide behind that door? We’ve had a number of murders in this neck of the forest and video confirmation of a prowler in the area. If you refuse to cooperate, I can only assume you had something to do with the murders.”
“I didn’t kill nobody.” A slight man in his seventies, white hair flowing to his shoulders and wearing a tattered army jacket over filthy camouflage pants, edged his way out the door. “Say your piece then get the hell off my land.”
“Is your son at home?” Jenna’s attention had not wavered. She sat straight-backed and with her chin set in a stubborn angle. “I would like to speak with both of you.”
“I’m here.” Joseph Blythe stepped onto the porch, a broken shotgun over one arm. He wore jeans and a squirrel-skin vest over a plaid shirt. “We don’t know nothin’ ’bout no murders.”
“Have you seen anyone in the area or suspected someone has been sleeping in your barn over the last week or so?” Jenna’s mare danced on the spot, eyes rolling at the smell of death. “The Finches have footage of a man hanging around their barn at night.”
The Blythes turned away and spoke to each other in hushed tones, ignoring Jenna’s question. Kane moved to her side. His mount seemed to calm the mare and she settled. He leaned toward Jenna. “What are they up to?”
“I hope they’re not planning on murdering us to eat for dinner.” Jenna’s mouth quirked up in the corners. “Although, you’d likely be tougher than squirrel.”
“Thanks.” Kane shook his head and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Don’t worry. I could take them down before they took aim.”