Fletcher guided her away from the reporter and handed her a bag containing a shirt. “We found this in his car.”
“Which is his car?”
“The blue Lexus parked right by the entrance.”
“Do we have any idea what Lenny looks like?”
“The car is a rental and we’re contacting the leasing agent for a photo ID they should have with the paperwork. I can text it to you.”
“Right.”
She knelt and held the bag with the shirt to Cooper’s nose. He sniffed and snorted several times. “Lenny said he was going to shoot himself. Do you know what kind of weapon he’s carrying?”
“No.” Fletcher rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t like this any better than you. Sketchy on more levels than I can count.”
Another news van arrived. “Who’s coming into the woods with me?”
“We’ve got three deputies ready to go.”
She met the sheriff’s gaze. “What’s your radio frequency so I can tap into your team?”
He rattled off the number and watched as she dialed in the setting.
She tested the radio several times before she hooked it to her vest. The deputies looked like they could each bench-press three hundred pounds, but she questioned their cardio strength. “I’m going to be moving quickly. Can your men keep up?”
“They’re tough.”
But could they keep up? As she faced the woods, a large SUV pulled up behind her car. She didn’t bother a glance back as she hefted her pack onto her back and moved toward the woods.
“Trooper Tatum.” The clear, deep voice was getting to be too familiar.
She turned to see Clay Bowman moving toward her. He wore dark BDUs, boots, and a lightweight long-sleeve shirt. “Bowman, what’re you doing here?”
“I’m here to assist.” Not a request, but an order.
“And you are?” Fletcher asked.
“Clay Bowman. Shield Security.”
“And former HRT,” Riley added. “He trains people like me.”
Fletcher looked apprehensive. “But he’s now a civilian.”
“I’ll sign any waiver you need me to sign,” Bowman said. “But I am going in those woods.”
Riley met Fletcher’s gaze, now full of challenge. “He’ll be an asset. We’ve worked together before.”
Potter shouted, “Hey, I got our guy on the phone again!”
Fletcher swore under his breath and moved toward the reporter. “Can I talk to him?”
Potter nodded. “Lenny, will you talk to Sheriff Fletcher?” The reporter listened and nodded. “He said I can put him on speakerphone so everyone can hear.”
“Go ahead,” Fletcher said. When Potter held up the phone, Fletcher added, “Lenny, we’ve got a team here to help you.”
“I don’t want your help,” Lenny said.
“You must want our help,” Fletcher said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have called us and the news station.”
“I wanted him to know I was going through with it. He needs to see I kept my word.”
“Who are you talking about?” Fletcher asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lenny said. His voice sounded calm, resolute. “Mr. Potter, make sure everyone knows I’m here and ready to die.” The line went dead.
Bowman checked his watch. “He’s controlling the situation, and I don’t like it. It could be an ambush.” He leaned in closer to Riley, his voice low enough so only she could hear. “How easy would it be for you to be lulled into a search like this and then vanish? Maybe Lenny is bait for you to overextend yourself and make a mistake.”
She recalled Tony’s comment just hours ago. Still, she held on to what she wanted to believe. “That’s a little far-fetched. You’re overthinking this.”
“I’m paid to overthink. And it’s what I do best.” He moved to the trunk of his car and pulled out a pack, which he swung onto his back with practiced ease. “Ready?”
“Just try and keep up with me.”
He grinned. “I’ll do my best.”
Riley and Cooper took point. Bowman’s steady footsteps fell in step behind her, and the deputies kept up with her fast pace. Soon, though, the deputies’ breathing became labored and she realized she’d burn them and smoke herself and the dog. That wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Drawing in a deep breath, she adjusted her gait, and soon her heart rate and breathing slowed to a normal, steady pace. Bowman also shortened his stride, but she sensed he could have kept the faster pace much longer.
Riley turned to Bowman. “How many of these searches have you done?”
“Heard about the three fugitives who set off those bombs last year?”
“The ones that made it to the North Carolina Appalachian Mountains?”
“Those would be the ones. They were mine.”
That arrest had captured national media attention. All the tracking experts who’d been interviewed about the search had only praise for the HRT team. And at the time, she’d been impressed by the team leader’s skills.
Both paused to scan and listen, studying the sounds and sights of the woods. In the distance a creek flowed by. “Lenny mentioned the waterfalls in the northwest corner of the park.”
“Roger.”
They kept moving forward along the narrow path. The brush grew thicker and thicker.
“A lot of work for a man who wants to take his life,” Bowman said.
“I don’t pretend to understand his motives.”
They broke through the thicket and into a small clearing at the foot of the waterfall. Cooper sniffed, his tail alert, his gaze sharp.
The primary path to the falls cut right, but Cooper pulled left toward a smaller footpath. She followed, not questioning the dog’s nose.
“What’s up that way?” Bowman asked.
“Another path to the falls.”
The deputies cleared the woods and paused in the clearing.
“Take the path to the right,” she said. “We’re taking the left. One of us should make contact with him in the next ten minutes if he really is at the falls.”
The deputies nodded and pushed onward.
She took out her water bottle and drank enough to match her perspiration rate given the heat and humidity. She gave Cooper a small amount of water while Bowman drank his own. When they were all hydrated, they left the clearing for the woods.
As the heat of the day rose, neither spoke. When they reached the base of the falls, the sun had climbed into a bright-blue sky.
Bowman looked up the steep slope leading to the top. “We shouldn’t need climbing equipment to get up there.”
“Agreed.” She wrestled off her backpack and pulled off her sweater top, revealing a tank top that clung to her sweat-soaked body. Jamming the sweater in the top of her pack, she hefted the pack onto her shoulders, ready for the final push.
Bowman stood by watching for anything out of the ordinary. When Riley started moving again, he strode up the side of the mountain, taking point, his powerful legs making easy work of the terrain that grew steeper and steeper. She and Cooper held their own and kept pace, but her efforts weren’t as smooth as his. She lost her footing once and slid a few feet. He paused, glanced back at her, but said nothing. When she regained her footing, he kept moving up. Higher and higher.