Page 102 of Covert Mission

The three of us go into tracking mode and scan the ground.

I drop to my haunches, brushing my fingers over the strange sandy soil that makes up Vandemora’s landscape. “I got a print over here. Right size for her. Barefoot.”

I stare at the little mark, it’s smaller than my hand. “Why the hell would she be barefoot?”

“Got some over here. Boot-tread. These are too big to be hers,” Evan says from the corner of the building.

Truck stalks toward the woods, working his gaze back and forth over the ground. “You’re right, she was barefoot. Here’s another print. I remember thinking it was odd that she was barefoot. She didn’t have any shoes when she came to my place. I figured she had them in her pack.”

I stand up and scan the edge of the woods with a crazy, twitchy energy pulsing through me. “She must have forgotten her boots when she left with you. I saw them by the door in my place. Where is her pack now?”

“I’ll check to see if it’s inside.” Truck limps off, heading around to the front of his rental.

I’m forcing myself to analyze everything instead of running off thrashing through the woods like a madman.

Every second counts. I can’t make the mistake of going in the wrong direction.

Evan walks closer to the edge of the woods, slowly inspecting the ground as he goes. “Whether she left on foot, or under duress, they would have to go through the woods. I think we would have seen them otherwise.”

I grunt and drop down to look at the prints Evan found. A man’s prints, made from a large boot with an aggressive tread. Like a combat boot. Something one of my men, or an armed rebel might wear.

Cold sweat rises on my neck.

“So, Scout has suspect number one with him. You saw suspect number two in town just a few moments ago. It would be hard for him to get here and have time to do this. That means, this could be another party…” I curse, “Goddamn. Even the rebels.”

Evan moves to stand beside me and clamps my shoulder with a firm hand. “Those dudes are pretty reckless. I can’t see them sneaking behind this bungalow. How would they even know where she was?”

Think, Lucas. You’ve got to have your focus dialed.

“The only way is if they were watching us…”

I stride around to the front of the bungalows and look for places where someone could have been hiding, someplace with an elevated view.

The trees are dense and the small houses are protected from view from the hillsides.

Truck emerges from his bungalow with Camile’s backpack. “She didn’t take this.”

A cold tendril of fear slides down my throat. “I don’t think she’d leave without that.”

“Unless she was planning on coming back,” Evan says.

I look at him with my pulse throbbing in my temples. He’s trying to keep my head level. It’s not working. “Something fucked up is going on.”

Scout must have heard the ruckus because he comes out to the courtyard. “What’s wrong?”

I scrub my hand over my eyes. “Camile’s gone.”

His face creases into a hard mask. “How?”

“The window of Truck’s place. But she’s barefoot and her pack is here.”

Scout scans our faces as he processes these new revelations. “Is she in the wind or did someone grab her?”

“I’m guessing in the wind.” God, it fucking pisses me off to say that.

He swings his eyes around, taking in the entire scene around us. “I don’t like this.”

With a red fog clouding my vision, I clench my hands. “She’s a wildcard. I can’t tell you what she’d do.”