“And we’ll take Wyatt home.”
“Until DCS sends out another caseworker.”
“But this time, Wyatt needs more security. Even with Brett out of the way, there still could be others after Wyatt. He’s not safe until we know the whole story.”
“I think after the murder of one of their own, DCS will acknowledge the threat and take it seriously.”
“Then we’re on the same page.”
Nash released a long breath. “That’s what I like to hear.”
The landscape rushed by, the lights illuminating a saguaro cactus here and there, tall enough to resemble a human shape, and occasionally picking out the glowing eyes of some night critter dodging the roaring mechanical intruder into his habitat.
Nash pointed out the mile marker that indicated their proximity to the trailer park. “We’re about a half mile out. Any closer and some night owl’s going to spot our headlights once we make that bend.”
Emily’s eyes widened, and the cords stood out in her delicate throat as she swallowed. “We’re walking a half a mile in this? In the dark?”
“Thought you were ready.” He gave her a playful punch in the arm.
“Oh, I am as long as you’re leading the way.”
“We can use the flashlights on our phones to make our way down the road. Nobody is going to see those from that distance.” He steered the truck into an outlet and cut the engine. As he stepped from the vehicle, the silence of the desert seemed to wrap him in a warm blanket, muffling his senses. He shook it off. He needed all his wits about him.
As if following the desert code, Emily eased her door shut, closing it with a click. She whispered, “I suppose there are snakes and scorpions out here.”
“If we don’t bother them, they won’t bother us.” He touched her arm and she jumped. “Sorry, take my hand and we’ll use our flashlights with our other hands.”
They stayed on the shoulder of the road, although they could’ve marched down the center divider as this area didn’t have a lot going for it and few people ventured out this way.
Emily stumbled a few times, swore and bumped against him, and then righted herself. After several yards, they got into a rhythm and traversed the distance smoothly.
He put his lips close to her ear as if someone were eavesdropping. “Let’s cut our lights. Those rocks up ahead mark the entrance.”
“How do you know this place?”
“I’ve made an arrest or two here.”
“Great, so you’re not exactly going to be popular.”
“Nope, but as we have no clue which ramshackle trailer belonged to Brett’s stepfather, we’re going to have to check out every one of them until we find him.”
“Ugh, I hope nobody’s awake.” She killed her light and tapped his phone. “Turn your phone off or put it on silent so it doesn’t start ringing or buzzing in the middle of the site.”
“Glad someone’s thinking clearly.” He silenced his phone and pocketed it. “Some of these residents may not be outside waiting for us, but my guess is there will be a few of them awake inside their trailers.”
He drew his weapon from his shoulder holster and held it pressed against his leg. “You follow me. I don’t want you going off on your own.”
“That’s ridiculous, Nash. We can cover more ground if both of us are looking.” She unzipped the pocket of her purse concealing her gun and pulled it out. “I’m a cop, remember? That’s what you keep telling me. Now act like you believe it.”
“All right.” Yeah, he should’ve never slept with her. “If you run into any trouble, you scream, yell, shoot your gun in the air. Got it? Don’t try to be a hero.”
“Same goes for you.” She smacked his backside with the palm of her hand.
Hunched over, creeping on silent feet, they approached the boulders. Nash squeezed her shoulder and pointed with his gun to the right.
He watched as the darkness enveloped her, and then he veered left.
When he got to the first trailer, he peered through an open window on the side. A fan whirred inside and light from a tablet cast a blue glow over the interior. When his eyes adjusted, he made out a man and a woman on a double futon. The man’s long, gray braid snaked over the edge.
Nash slipped away from the trailer and approached the next one about twenty feet away. Voices carried out the open window of this trailer, and he listened for a few minutes to two women arguing in low tones about the excessive alcohol use of one of them.
Nash backed away from the trailer, feeling like an eavesdropper. As he loped toward the next domicile, an old motor home with no wheels, the hair on his arms prickled. He froze and lifted his head, his nostrils quivering like a horse’s.
His ears strained to catch the sound he thought he’d heard—a gasp that hung on the air and swirled right through him. He made a half turn and almost stumbled over Emily.
She looked up at him and put her finger to her lips. She tugged on his arm, half dragging him across the open space of the trailer park.
When they approached a trailer at the edge of the site, she thrust out a finger. She plucked at his sleeve and he bent his head to hers.
“That’s his place. I recognize the shoes he left out front.” She patted her chest. “He made it easy for us.”
Nash slipped a knife from a holster on his leg and placed one foot on the porch. He pressed down on the door handle, and it turned.
He nudged Emily. Brett had made it really easy for them by not even locking his door.
Nash yanked on the aluminum door, and it opened with a huff.
Behind him, Emily had her weapon ready.
He eased open the door and stumbled back, gagging. He held out his arm to stop Emily, but she squeezed past him and fell to her knees.
She cranked her head around, her eyes wide above
