Page 20 of Into the Storm

No point in checking a severed carotid for a pulse. He was dead.

Xavier shined a red flashlight over the face and gaping neck wound. “Do you know him?”

“Yes.” She stared at the familiar blank eyes and bloody chin. Rain splattered down, mixing with blood and washing it away in thin channels that cut lines in the packed soil. “Jeb McCutcheon. He owns one of the inholding cabins.”

“He was in the lodge that night. With George.”

“Yes.”

“He a friend?” Xavier asked, concern in his voice.

“Not like George. More of an associate. He often tried to use environmental and historic preservation laws to stop government action and development in the park, so he contacted my office frequently.” He’d been an irritant at times, but also a decent man. He’d been true to his convictions, and she respected that.

“He opposed the training,” Xavier said. “But in the end, he took the payment and signed the contract agreeing to vacate this week.”

“I assume you changed the lock on the inholding access gate?” she asked. Inholding landowners had a separate gate with their own keys.

“The lock was changed two days ago, per our contract. Plus, we checked the cabins on the lake and all were vacant, as agreed. Which one is Jeb’s?”

“It’s the one closest to the Civilian Conservation Corps campground. ‘No trespassing’ signs everywhere. He must’ve hidden during your inspection.” Audrey’s teeth started to chatter—but it wasn’t cold that triggered it. She took more photos of the dead man, shielding the flash as much as she could with a cupped hand. “I wonder if he’s part of what’s going on, or if he came here to cause trouble for the training and got in someone’s way?”

“Check his pockets. Maybe he’s carrying something that will give us a clue.”

His pockets were empty. No cell phone, no keys, no hint as to what he was doing here or who had taken an axe to his throat.

Task complete, they retreated into an alcove created by a shed that abutted the yurt. “I need to get inside,” Xavier said. “Cohen was in there.”

Audrey’s stomach churned. “It could be an ambush,” she said, naming her biggest fear of the moment.

“I know.”

She would go with him. No way was she staying out here alone.

The storm had worsened while she examined Jeb’s body. Rain pelted the yurt’s metal roof, drowning out all other sound. “We need to do it now, while the storm is heavy. If someone’s inside, they won’t be able to hear us over the rain.”

He nodded. “I’ll go in first. I want you right behind me. I’ll give you my training gun. Simunition stings like a bitch. I wish it were more, but it’s better than nothing.”

She took a deep breath to steel her nerves. She’d faced a knife-wielding man on a cliff and searched the nearly decapitated body of Jeb McCutcheon. Might as well add walking blind into a yurt that could house an axe murderer to the list of horrific things she’d done that day.

She met Xavier’s gaze in the dim red glow of his flashlight. His handsome face held fear and concern. Hours ago, the most traumatic thing she’d thought she’d face with him was telling him about their baby.

She straightened her spine. “Let’s go.”

With SEALs in the water, armed tangos in the woods, and a dead body outside the command center, there was no time to waste. Xavier needed to get inside and find out what had happened to the other trainers, turn off the signal jammer, and tell Naval Special Warfare Command to flood these woods with armed special forces operators. Naval Air Station Whidbey could have a team here in an hour. Two tops.

Plus there were Green Berets and Army Rangers stationed at Joint Base Lewis-McChord near Tacoma. They could end this before it took more lives.

But the dead-eyed stare of Jeb McCutcheon warned him it might already be too late to save his team of trainers.

Xavier gave Audrey his gun—a Glock, like hers, making him glad he didn’t have to waste time with instructions. “It’s chambered.”

She pointed it away from him and looked down the sights. He noted her grip, thumbs aligned on one side, index finger along the trigger guard. She didn’t look comfortable, but she had the basics down. Good.

She lowered the gun and met his gaze. “Ready.”

From the determined set of her chin, he believed her. But from the shaking of her hands, he knew she was terrified.

“You got this,” he said, touching her cheek. Her skin was cold and wet, but that wasn’t the cause of her trembling.