Page 20 of The Hero She Loves

Her sarcasm was clear. The wooden cabin looked pretty rough. It appeared Marty Price had added on to it at some stage, and the new additions didn’t match the original cabin. It made the entire structure look lopsided. An old, wooden shed sat just beyond the cabin.

“No sign of a car,” Park murmured.

“Maybe he loaned it to Olson,” Owen suggested.

Park stopped the truck. They all got out, studying their surroundings. As they headed toward the cabin, Park thought it was quiet. Too quiet for his liking.

Jenna strode ahead—sure and steady. He was realizing how driven she was. Determined to take Olson down. To help people.

He picked up speed, scanning ahead.

Jenna knocked on the weathered front door. “Mr. Price?”

Park glanced in one window. This cabin made his place look like a palace. It looked like Price wasn’t big on cleaning. “There’s ammo on the table.” Along with dirty plates. “Looks like there are two plates on the table.”

“Maybe Price had company?” Jenna’s gaze sharpened. She tried the handle and it turned. She cautiously opened the door.

She pulled out her handgun and nodded at Owen. The other marshal did the same.

“Go left,” she said.

Park waited in the doorway as the marshals split, and cleared the small cabin in just under a minute.

“Clear,” Owen said, coming out of the bedroom.

Jenna opened and closed a small closet. “Clear.” She pulled a face, sliding her gun back into its holster. “He’s not here.”

There was no sign of Marty Price. Park checked the papers resting on the table. One was a map. There was nothing marked on it, but it was folded to display an area a few hundred miles south from there, centered on Drifter Lake.

He knew of the area. He’d looked into it when he was looking to buy his cabin. It was remote, but there was a lodge that was open in the summer, and a few cabins in the area.

“Let’s check out back,” Jenna said.

They headed back out the front door and circled the cabin. The grass was overgrown, but a path had been beaten down toward the shed. The structure was made of weathered, wooden planks that had, at one point in history, been painted red. One side of it was open to the elements, and an old truck was parked under it.

The place looked like a decent wind would blow it down.

Owen moved ahead of Park, and he kept one eye on the junior marshal, becoming more impressed with each passing moment. The kid had decent skills, and was alert and observant.

They walked along the shed and Park spotted footprints in the dirt. He slowed down, then crouched. Two pairs of boots, by the look of it. One had a distinctive looking tread.

“Let’s search the shed.” Owen reached out to pull the lopsided wooden door open.

Park heard a sound, one his brain registered in a millisecond.

A shotgun getting pumped.

Park spun and slammed into Owen.

The marshal stiffened. “What the?—?”

He knocked the young guy to the ground, just as a shotgun blast ripped through the wood of the shed.

More blasts reverberated, and wood splinters rained over them.

“Stay down,” Park growled.

He lifted his head and saw Jenna running, gun in hand. She was headed for the open end of the shed.