Page 60

CHAPTER

FIFTY-NINE

Logan pulled up to the outpost, where Duke and Andi had left their vehicle earlier.

The sun was setting in the distance, casting long shadows across the forest service road. After the chaos at the lightning tree, everyone needed a moment to regroup.

“You sure you don’t want us to come with you to the hospital?” Andi asked as she climbed out of Logan’s SUV.

“I’m good, but thanks.”

Duke paused before climbing out. “What’s our next move?”

“Anticipating what this guy is going to do next.” That was easier said than done.

“Please call us with any updates,” Andi said.

“Of course.”

As Logan drove toward Fairbanks General Hospital, his mind kept running through everything that had happened.

His phone rang just as he reached the city limits, and Yazzie’s name appeared on the display.

Apprehension thrummed inside him.

“How’s Reeves?” Logan asked.

“I took her straight to the ER. They got her into X-ray, confirmed the open compound fracture, and now they’re prepping her for surgery.

I talked to Reeves’ roommate, and she put together an overnight bag for her.

She doesn’t have time to bring it by the hospital, however.

She’s got to leave for work. Could you pick it up? ”

“Of course. I’ll head over there now.”

Logan navigated through the quiet residential streets to Reeves’ small house on the edge of town. A light had been left on inside. Everything looked normal, from the cheerful yellow siding to the snow-covered lawn.

Logan parked and approached the front door, noting that the curtains were drawn tight.

He knocked loudly, just to make sure no one else was there.

No one answered, and no sounds came from inside.

He tried the door handle and was surprised when it turned freely. As a cop, Reeves never left her door unlocked.

“Hello?” Logan called out as he pushed the door open. “Anyone here?”

Logan stepped inside, his hand instinctively moving toward his weapon. The living room was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting shadows across the furniture.

As he moved to close the door, a sharp prick pinched his neck.

Logan spun around. But it was too late. His vision was already starting to blur.

A figure in dark clothing stepped out from behind the door, holding a syringe.

Logan tried to draw his weapon. But his arm felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.

His gun clattered to the floor as his knees buckled.

“You walked right into it,” the voice continued as Logan’s vision tunneled. “Just like I knew you would. Always the hero, always rushing to save the day.”

Logan fought against the drug coursing through his system and tried to focus on the figure’s face.

But everything was fading to black, and the last coherent thought he had was the terrible realization that he had, indeed, walked right into the killer’s trap.