Just check it out—he’d said—don’t make a move on your own.
But he was here now and had seen the footprints in the snow. What was the harm in a student looking up his old professor?
He waited until he had some feeling back in his feet then slipped the car in gear and slowly reversed back up the road. The tires crunched through a crust of ice as he eased the car off the road and onto the track. Dry branches reached out and raked the side of the vehicle like witches’ fingers as he squeezed through the gap that wasn’t quite as wide as he’d hoped.
Whoever was up in the cabin would be able to hear his engine rumbling its way up the track but there was little he could do about it. To compromise, he cut the lights, plunging himself into a bluish darkness that was still bright enough to drive by and would preserve his night vision, just in case he needed it when he got there.
The tires found a better grip on the broken and frozen ground than they had on the flat, icy road and he bounced and lurched his way up the track and between the trees. After a while he could see a light, high above him, warm and orange like a lantern winking through gaps in the thick woods. As he got higher the trees started to thin out a little until he could see the outline of the log cabin, lights on inside and smoke leaking from the chimney and drifting away in the cold, clear night. He let the car crunch to a stop just short of the end of the track where there was still a little tree cover, then killed the engine. He slipped out of the driver’s seat and closed the door quietly, keeping the car between him and the cabin while he listened to the night and studied the cabin.
It had changed a lot since he’d last been here. There was a woodshed that hadn’t been there before and the basic hunter’s hide on the rocky ledge above the cabin had been extensively modified so it now looked like a second home. A wide pathway had been cut through the trees leading up to it and there was now a proper roof on top with solar panels fixed on either side of a large open hatch, suggesting it was still being used as an observatory. The rope they’d used to scramble up the side of the rock had now been replaced by a solid set of wooden stairs.
He scanned the periphery of trees, trying to work out the best way to approach the cabin. He reached into his jacket. This was the third time he’d held a gun in his hand in less than twenty-four hours. He stepped around the back of the car, his pulse pounding in his ears and sweat prickling beneath his shirt despite the cold. He made his way carefully through the trees, working his way around to the side of the cabin, trying not to make any sound as he headed for the woodshed. It would provide cover between him and the cabin when he stepped out of the trees. There was no reason to believe Douglas would be hostile, but he had blown up several hundred million dollars’ worth of government facility earlier that day, so there was always a chance.
He kept his eyes on the cabin and the observatory, looking and listening for any movement inside. The storm shutters were open on the cabin and the curtains pulled back so he caught glimpses inside, the warm orange glow making him feel even colder. His feet were numb inside the wet thin leather of his shoes. As he picked his way through the tree trunks and low branches, the crunch of snow far too loud in the still of the night, a parked car came into view behind the woodshed, a newer model of the same sort of jeep Douglas had driven all those years ago. Footprints in the snow spread out from it, heading to the woodshed and the cabin. More footsteps went back into the forest. They looked pretty fresh. Whoever was inside had been out here fairly recently, maybe just to get fuel for the fire, or maybe for another reason. He glanced back into the dark of the woods, wondering if he should maybe check things out in that direction first, make sure it was clear and cover his back, seeing as there was no one else out here to cover it for him.
Carrie watched him through the night sight, her eye pressed against the rubber cup to stop the green phosphorescent light leaking out and giving away her position. Even on the lowest magnification he filled her vision, his outline solid and dark against the bright glow coming from the buildings behind him. She could see his face, right in the center of the crosshairs, his eyes scanning the dark, looking straight at her from time to time but always moving on. If he chose to follow the tracks into the woods he would find them easily enough.
Her finger tightened a little on the trigger, ready to squeeze if he took so much as one step forward. A knife would be quieter but he was a trained federal agent and it wasn’t worth the risk of letting him get close enough to use his weapon.
The crosshairs remained steady on the center of his head.
Just one step.
Shepherd scanned the woods, listening through the muffled silence to the crack of ice and the sound of his own breathing. He felt sure he was being watched, but then he always did when he stared into woods at night. There was bound to be all sorts of wildlife checking him out, ready to bolt or take flight the moment he got too close. He shivered at the thought of all the potential eyes upon him. He needed to get out of the cold and into the warm before he got frostbite and his toes started falling off.
Franklin would tell him to head back to the car right now and warm up on his way back to Cherokee — come back again in the morning with some backup. But Franklin wasn’t here. Shepherd turned back toward the cabin. It looked warm in there. He took a deep breath to steady his shivers, then stepped out of the trees toward it.
The sound changed the moment he moved forward, opening out as the baffling effect of the trees was left behind, making him feel very exposed. He made it to the jeep and felt the side panel by the engine with his free hand. Stone cold. He moved around, stopping a foot short of the woodshed wall, his gun held in front of him, always pointing where he was looking. He had to make a choice now, head to the cabin and risk being spotted from the observatory, or check out the observatory first. He studied the tracks in the snow, but there were too many to give him any clues. He made a choice and headed for the porch of the cabin, figuring that walking up the wooden steps to the observatory before he’d checked the cabin would be too dangerous.
The deck creaked as he stepped onto it and made his way over to a window. He wondered, standing here now, if he should knock and give whoever was inside the chance to reveal themselves before he burst in with a gun in his hand. But silence and surprise were just about the only things he had on his side and he wasn’t about to give them up lightly.
He eased his head around the edge of the window frame and took in the room. The stove was lit and loaded with logs, the fire throwing enough shifting orange light into the room to show him that no one was there. He moved over to the door and tried the handle, it creaked, not much but loud enough in the tense silence, then opened.
The trapped warmth of the room was like stepping into a bath. Blood rushed to his face and feeling began to return painfully to his fingers and feet. He moved quickly across the room, keeping low and away from the windows. The bedroom was behind a partition at one end of the cabin, a thin wooden wall defining a space just big enough for a bed.
There was no one here.
He moved over to the back door and looked up at the observatory, the glow from the open roof hatch making it stand out against the night. He should have known Douglas would be stargazing on a clear night like this. He twisted the handle and slowly opened the door then stepped out into the frozen night again.