In concentrated sweeps, my teams moved over the hillside, searching in vain for Caitriona’s vehicle. This was a trap, we all knew it, so I’d played the strategy as best I could.
Two teams rounded the mountain to approach from the other side, on skis or snow mobiles to cover the ground. Another group remained at the castle to protect Isla. The car I’d sent to meet Cait would bring backup, but we were thinly spread.
I couldn’t leave her out here.
I’d chosen to walk straight into the lion’s den. Cameron and I had taken the east route, and Wasp, Ally, and Maddock the west, none of us hesitating.
Cameron shot out an arm and grabbed me then pointed. Ahead, the road ended in a thick ridge of snow. I drove to the edge then stopped.
“An avalanche,” I breathed.
Then I was out of the car and into the drift.
Cameron followed, scanning our surroundings. “Keep low,” he warned.
“If they’re under that, we need to get them out,” I retorted.
He uttered agreement, and I pressed on, searching with an edge of desperation. Skiers sometimes wore avalanche beacons, giving us a guide to locating them. But Caitriona wouldn’t have had anything like that.
How much time had passed since the explosion? Under the snow, every minute counted. She could be suffocating. Despair rocked me.
I wanted to yell for her, shout down the mountain until she called back. But that risked too much.
Cameron held up a hand and knelt. “Footprints.”
My heart leapt, and I studied his find. “You’re right. Two clear sets, aye? It has to be theirs.”
“I think so. It’s hard to be sure with the fresh snowfall. I dinna think they’ve been here long.”
Then I spied a hole in the ground, its shape not one found in nature. A car window? I strode over and peered down. “Christ, it’s Caitriona’s car.”
I was directly on top of it.
Panic and fear loaded into my system. She’d been stuck under the snow. Ah fuck.
Cameron joined me and lowered his head inside. “There’s no blood and no interior damage. We know they got out. Breathe, man.”
No blood. No blood.
“But they were in there. She could’ve died.”
I wanted to fucking howl with worry, but we had to keep going. She’d got out, Max, too, so they couldn’t be far. Except…
“We should’ve seen them on the road,” I bit out. “Why the fuck weren’t they on the road?”
Cameron’s expression flattened. He reported the find into his radio, summoning the second team to us. “If they didn’t take the obvious path home, there’s a good reason. Come on. Back to the footsteps. We’ll try to follow them.”
We jogged back over the compressed snow, searching the ground. Partial prints broke the choppy snow layer every few metres, and we traced them past the car.
Cameron hesitated at the Jeep. “I’ll drive, ye lead.”
“Do it.” It would be foolhardy to give up our car before we had to.
I powered on, jogging back along the way we’d come, stalling to check the faint prints were still in place. At the junction to Hill House—a route we’d passed but ignored—the footprints clustered.
They continued on up the steep road.
I gestured to the car, my throat tight.
Cameron leaned from the window. “Why would they go up there?”
“No clue.”
I took a few more steps, searching the dark trees to one side and the ridge to the other. The house wasn’t in view yet, but we were almost in the exact position Cameron had speculated Jude would target.
The icy weather had nothing on the chill that rippled down my spine.
“They’d only go this way for two reasons. Shelter, if desperate, and assuming there’s anything of the house remaining. Or because they were made to.”
With a grim nod, Cameron hopped down and joined me, and we advanced.
At the same moment, we both spotted the one thing I hadn’t wanted to see.
A third pair of prints.
Until now, we’d followed two different-sized boots, huge clumping depressions that were Max’s, and daintier walking boots that could only be Caitriona’s.
The third was in between, and the tracks led into the forest.
“It’s him. It has to be.” I fought the urge to drop to my knees. “It’s Jude. They’ve gone with him. Why the fuck would they?”
“They were forced to,” Cameron said with vehemence. “Lochinvar, he has a gun. He must have or both Max and Cait would’ve run. We need to change tactic. I have to stop them being approached directly by the other searchers.”
“He’ll hurt her,” I bit out.
“He could do. I need to tell the teams.”
I lifted my head enough to acknowledge him then, as he spoke to the rescue crew, focused inwardly. Again, the game had changed. Jude had Caitriona, and Max, too. Even through my horror, I could perform the basic checks. We’d heard no sound of a gunshot, nor was there blood, or an unconscious Max anywhere in sight. Plus the footsteps continued. He’d directed them somewhere, but together.
That was in our favour.
My radio bleeped. “Come in,” I said.
“Dinna tell me to hold back,” Maddock blurted down the line. “That’s my sister and my fucking twin. We’re coming after ye.”
We needed them, but we also needed clear heads. God knows mine was already fucked.
“Come up as far as our Jeep then proceed with extreme caution,” I ordered. “I fucking mean it. Stay out of sight. We have to continue on foot—the prints lead away towards the hills. Once ye see us, dinna move a muscle. We cannae spook this guy.”
A pause followed, then Wasp’s voice returned. “Roger that. We’ll show restraint. Stay safe, both of ye.”
My safety didn’t mean shite right now. I wasn’t at risk, and I’d throw myself in front of Cameron if it came to it. All that mattered was getting Caitriona back.
With that in mind, I followed her trail.
