Page 92 of Savage Rancher
My heart is hammering, but my hands are steady. This is what I do. This is what I'm good at. Document. Capture. Preserve.
A white truck the size of an average UPS delivery truck pulls up to the barn. One of the men in the yard opens the back, waving to the driver, who hops out of the cab.
I zoom in, focusing on the cargo inside the new truck. Wooden crates. Cardboard boxes. They could have anything in them—toys, china, drugs, weapons, gold... Whatever the Turners are into.
I photograph everything. The men's faces. The men standing around, smoking. The men looking at their cell phones. Two men carrying a box out from the barn and setting it just inside the truck.
As they walk away, the crate shifts. I hear the bang of the wood as it rocks.
What? I freeze, my finger on the shutter button.
The crate shifts again, and there’s no one near it. It’s not from being moved by the men, but from whatever’sinside.
What the hell?
Something is alive in that crate—and the men are obviously not surprised because none of them pay any attention to it.
I get my cell phone out and take a video, hoping the zoom function is good enough. Then I tuck it back in my pocket and lift my camera. I adjust the focus, zooming in tighter, straining to see if I can see any marks on the crate.
Through the slats in the wood, I see movement.
A hand. Fingers squeezed through a gap in the slats, pale and trembling.
I gasp. Oh God.
Oh God. Is there apersonin there?
93
JAKE
We’re in the kitchen, sitting around the table, going over the information Harper gave us one more time, debating where the best place to intercept Turner is, when Mason pushes back from the table. "We need to eat. Can't run an op on empty."
I don’t want to stop, but Emma hasn’t eaten all day. I stretch to standing. "I'll grab Emma."
Luke balances on the back two legs of his chair. “Are we telling her our plan?”
“She’s part of the team, right?” Mason says as he takes out some steaks from the fridge.
That makes me pause a second, appreciating them.
As I head upstairs to get my woman, I run through the details I need to brief her on. Harper's intel. When we think the window is to strike at Turner. I’m not a hundred percent on the plan, but it’s a good start.
I open the bedroom door. It’s dark inside. I don’t want to shock her, so I move quietly to flip the switch on the small lamp by the bedside.
She’s not here.
The bed is untouched. No impression on her pillow. No sign she's slept here at all.
My chest tightens.
I rush to check the bathroom. Empty.
The closet—her jacket is gone.
I move downstairs fast.
I find her camera bag by the front door. Her camera is missing.
