Page 14

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

PRESENT DAY

Logan observed Andi in the back seat of his SUV. He saw the hard set of her jaw. The determination in her features.

Andi was petite and appeared delicate at first glance. But the feisty blonde was quite the opposite. She was bold and sharp. Tough and mysterious.

Not tough like Ranger Garrett. Ranger, a former CIA operative, was big, burly, and an outdoorsman. But Andi was tough, nonetheless.

Then there was solid, loyal Duke.

Logan, on the other hand, had a quietness about him. He kept his tattoos covered. When he was off-duty he preferred wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses that further concealed his gaze.

Life had taught him to keep his distance. That it was better to be a loner.

It was one of the reasons he’d volunteered to go undercover with the Iron Brotherhood. He was unattached—and he planned on staying that way.

His mom had died when he was a toddler, and he’d been an only child raised by her father, who worked construction. But his dad preferred to spend any free time down at the local bar rather than with Logan. He’d practically had to raise himself.

And he’d learned it was better to go through life without attachments. It kept things simpler

However, Andi and Duke had been good friends to Logan since the Arctic Circle Murder Club had formed.

The club had six members. Duke, Andi, and Ranger.

There was also Simmy, Ranger’s wife and the resident nurturer.

Mariella Boucher and her twin brother, Matthew, were also members.

Mariella was a social media whiz who’d been a top influencer before giving it up.

She did all their marketing. Matthew ran the technical side of things.

The six of them had come together when they were trapped at the Almost Halfway Trading Post near the Arctic Circle. They’d banded together to solve a crime, and they’d been a team ever since.

Their podcast had really caught fire, and they released various episodes every week. Some were long cases that needed a lot of investigating. Others were summaries of other notable true crime stories.

None of the gang had expected for things to take off like they did.

Logan had been their contact with the state police, and he hadn’t missed an episode yet.

In fact, he’d put everything on the line in order to help them solve one of their biggest cases.

Andi had thanked him profusely for that.

His sacrifice had been notable. They’d all been affected. They’d all paid a price in some way. But now, Andi had gotten her law license back. The team was even in talks about doing a live show on a national tour.

Logan? He’d still been suffering the consequences in his workplace.

Finally, they reached their destination, and Logan pulled off on the side of the road.

His heart thumped harder when he saw the woods on either side of them.

“This is where the GPS on Morgan’s car led us?” Andi asked. “I don’t see a car anywhere. Or any tire tracks.”

“It did snow again last night,” Duke pointed out.

Without saying anything, Logan climbed out. Duke and Andi followed suit.

He strolled along the edge of the road before pausing and squatting down.

A deeper groove in the snow.

Another car had pulled off onto the side of the road here. The tracks had then been covered with a fresh round of snow but hadn’t completely disappeared.

Logan followed the tracks before turning into a small opening between the trees—a space just large enough for a car.

Andi and Duke followed him through the woods.

If Morgan’s car had been stashed here, the vehicle wouldn’t be far off the road.

But they walked a good quarter of a mile before Logan finally saw something shiny between the brush.

A car.

Morgan’s car.

Logan’s heart thumped harder in his ears at the realization.

He prayed Morgan wasn’t inside. That she wasn’t harmed.

Either way, he was about to find out.

Logan braced himself for what he might find inside the car.

He reached for his service weapon and drew it with practiced precision, the weight familiar against his palm.

The forest felt silent and undisturbed around him.

Logic told himself no one was nearby. But instinct and experience demanded caution.

“I’ve got point,” he murmured to Duke and Andi. “Stay back until I clear it.”

Each step toward the abandoned Subaru felt leaden. The vehicle sat unnaturally among the spruce trees, a covering of snow over its dark-blue paint.

Logan mentally cataloged the details. There was no shattered glass. The tires were intact.

And the driver’s door was closed but possibly unlocked.

The forest seemed to hold its breath around them.

There was no birdsong or rustling leaves—just the soft crunch of his boots on snow and the thundering of his own pulse in his ears.

Staying low, he approached from the rear quarter panel.

He scanned the ground for footprints.

He saw none. If they’d been here, they’d been covered up.

At the driver’s side door Logan paused, steeling himself before looking inside. In his career, he’d seen too many crime scenes where the interior of a vehicle told the final chapter of someone’s story.

The images flashed unbidden—blood-spattered upholstery, signs of struggle.

Worse.

Please. Not Morgan. Not like this.

He angled his flashlight against the glass, illuminating the interior.

Empty.

The breath he’d been holding escaped in a ragged exhale. But his relief was premature.

His trained eye caught details that made his stomach tighten. The smudge on the steering wheel that could be blood. The way the glove compartment hung open and emptied of contents.

“Clear,” he called over his shoulder to Duke and Andi, who waited at the edge of the small clearing, tension visible in their postures.

But there was still the trunk.

He’d check that in a moment.

First, Logan tried the driver’s door. It was unlocked—another bad sign.

He slid into the seat, immediately registering the unfamiliar scent. Not Morgan’s usual lavender and cedar. This was something sharper, something almost chemical.

Latex, maybe.

Someone had worn gloves.

The seat felt wrong beneath him. Too low, too far back, adjusted for someone taller. Male.

His jaw tightened as he continued to gather information.

Then he found the trunk release. His finger hovered over the button as dread pooled in his stomach like ice water.

What if she’s in there? What if this is where I find her?

He pressed the button.

The latch released with a soft click that seemed to echo through the silent forest.

Logan forced himself to his feet, gun still drawn, and circled to the rear of the vehicle.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at Duke and Andi. If their faces reflected the fear clawing at his insides, he might shatter completely.

Each step toward the trunk felt like moving through quicksand. Logan had investigated dozens of homicides during his career, but none had ever felt this personal, this devastating in its potential.

He’d found one small mercy in the moment.

The sharp, unmistakable odor of decomposition was absent.

Whatever awaited him in the trunk, it wasn’t a long-dead body.

He reached the rear of the vehicle, steadied his breathing, and raised the trunk lid in one deliberate motion, bracing for the worst.

It was empty.

The relief he felt was so intense, so instantaneous, it almost made his knees buckle. But the feeling only lasted a few seconds before giving way to a new wave of uncertainty.

A single dark hair—long, possibly Morgan’s—lay curled against the plastic interior.

But no Morgan.

No body.

Which meant she could still be alive.

He lifted a silent prayer of gratitude.

“She’s not here.” Logan’s voice came out rougher than he’d intended. “Trunk’s clear.”

Duke’s hand rested on his shoulder, a silent acknowledgment of both relief and the uncertainty still stretching before them.

“That’s good news, Gibson.” Andi lowered her voice. “It means we still have time.”

Logan nodded and holstered his weapon.

Time for what, though? To find Morgan alive? Or simply to find her at all?

No, he couldn’t think like that.

The empty car had answered one question but spawned a dozen more.

Where was Morgan now? Who had driven her vehicle here? And most importantly—why hide the car in this specific location, miles from where her phone had been discarded?

Nothing about this felt random. Every move had been calculated and every location chosen with purpose.

As Logan closed the trunk, his jaw tightened with grim determination. Whoever had taken Morgan was playing a game—leaving breadcrumbs and testing him.

Logan intended to make them regret it.

Just as that thought cross his mind, he heard a stick crack in the distance.

They weren’t out here alone, he realized.