Her eyes narrowed slightly as she slowed on the trail. “That sounds more like a question.”
“Fine, I’m a little turned around.”
She snickered slightly, her annoyance fading. “Was it that hard to admit that you’re wrong or lost?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
That made her laugh even more, which in turn pulled a laugh from him. “Damn it, we’re so lost. We can’t be that far off track though.” He sighed and looked around the woods as he adjusted his small backpack. They were on one of the trails, so really they simply had to figure out which direction to go. All the trails circled back to the same place but…this area didn’t even look familiar. He might not be a master tracker or hiker like Mac, but still, he should recognize the area.
“Maybe we should try using GPS on our phones or something,” Marcy suggested as she walked up ahead a little ways, her sneakers making squishing sounds.
“I don’t know if it’ll help all the way out here.” It was just sprinkling now so he pulled his phone out and realized that he had no service. There was a big fat X where the bars normally were. Damn it.
“Hey, that kind of looks like four-wheeler tracks.” She pointed into the woods.
He frowned at the makeshift trail with fresh tire tracks, only slightly filled with water. “Come on.”
He brushed his wet hair out of his face and headed down the trail, wincing at all the mud. Hopefully this would take them back to civilization. Or at least somewhere that he could figure out their location and make it back home.
As they headed down the trail, their boots sucking down each step they took, he grasped her hand in his. “It could be worse, right?”
“Yeah, I could be in dry clothes right now and drinking a hot cup of coffee.”
He laughed, something he did a lot with her. “True. But at least we’re together.”
“No one I’d rather be with. When we get back, I say we grab a hot shower before anything else.” Her voice dropped slightly and just like that his entire body reacted. Which was pretty standard when he was with Marcy. He’d just turned nineteen and hadn’t thought he wanted anything serious while in college, but after meeting her, he’d been hooked.
He nodded. “Deal.” As they continued down the trail, he saw old pieces of plywood nailed to some of the oak trees about fifteen feet up. Flecks of red paint were peeling off them but he couldn’t make out the words. If he had to guess, however, they’d likely once said something along the lines of Keep Out. He paused and pointed upward. “I think I know where we are. I think this is our back neighbor’s property.”
“Neighbor?”
“They’re not technically our neighbors, but I don’t know what else to call them. The people who own the property behind us. I don’t know who they are though. I remember Mac talking about an asshole who used to live near here, but that was years ago.” The guy had gone to prison or something.
A distant gunshot blast through the air and they both stilled. His heart rate kicked up, not from the gunshot—he heard those enough out in the country.
“Think someone’s hunting?” Marcy whispered, her hands tightening on her backpack straps.
He glanced up at the darkening sky, the gray clouds rolling in promising more rain. “Maybe.” It was still general gun season and would be for a few more weeks, but… “Hunters are going to come out after the rain when the animals are moving. Not now.”
There was another shot, quickly followed by a rat-a-tat-tat. He reached for her hand and tugged her off the trail.
“That’s not a hunting rifle.” He might not hunt, but he was familiar enough with what normal hunting shots sounded like. There’d be one, maybe two or three in a row if the hunter missed the first time. That sounded…like a semiautomatic. “I want to get off this trail,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I don’t know what that is, but I say we head south. Eventually it should take us back to my house.” He really, really hoped so anyway.
She nodded, her green eyes trusting, and he hated that he’d gotten them so damn lost. He hadn’t even wanted to come out and should have just said so.
At least their shoes weren’t sticking in the thick tracks anymore, just squishing over the grass of the high ground. As they hurried through the woods, he tried to ignore the rumble of thunder overhead. Through the trees above he could see the dark gray clouds rolling over them. Yeah, it was about to get worse before it got better.
Then…he held out his hand at the sound of distant voices. The soft patter of rain and another rumble made it hard to tell exactly where the voices were coming from.
Marcy stilled next to him, her expression tense as she looked around.
Two men were talking nearby.
She held a finger up to her lips and motioned that she would stay quiet. He nodded and they both crept forward toward the sound of the voices. If it was just hunters, they’d ask for directions and get out of here. But he wanted to be careful since those gunshots had been abnormal for the area. The farther they walked, the more the trees thinned and the louder the voices grew.
As they reached the edge of the clearing, he grabbed her hand and tugged her down behind a bunch of overgrown brush.
Staying hidden, he peered through the thick grass and azalea bushes. The rain was picking up again but he could see two men standing on a makeshift front porch attached to a double-wide trailer. One had on a T-shirt and jeans, the other a tank top and what looked like boxer shorts. Tank top guy had a mask shoved up on top of his head as he argued with the one wearing jeans.
“What if someone heard!” the guy in the boxers shouted.
The man in the jeans held out a hand. “No one’s out here! No one can hear us, dumbass. Which is exactly why we’re running our business out here.”
Business? Joe eyed the trailer again, noticed that all the windows were open even though it was cold and rainy out. Dark curtains fluttered in the wind. And there was a pile of respiratory masks spilling over one of the open garbage bins. Trash littered the left side of the house, the two bins completely full. Plastic soda bottles with tubes coming out of them stuck out of one of the bins and what looked like some kind of makeshift ventilation fan was on the roof.
Ohhhhhh, shit. A meth house.
Panic set in as realization hit. Meth dealers were paranoid lunatics. And these guys had semiautomatic weapons. Oh, hell no.
They had to get out of here. He grabbed Marcy’s hand and squeezed once.
Fear in her gaze, she nodded and they both slowly crawled backward as another rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. Rain started falling harder now, drowning out their movements as they finally shoved up and started running.
Once they’d been moving for a solid ten minutes, she slowed, breathing hard. “That was a meth house, right?”
He nodded, the gears in his brain working. At least he had a good idea where they were now. Unfortunately. Ugh.
“Should we call the sheriff?” she asked.
“I want to talk to Mac first. I don’t actually know if this is Sheriff Jordan’s territory. I think it might be under the jurisdiction of a neighboring police department.”
“Why can’t we contact them?”
“Because I’m pretty sure the chief owns that property.” Which was why he wanted to talk to his brother first. He needed advice before he did something stupid and made the wrong call.