How had a simple morning ride gone so wrong?
Beck looked over the map the FBI agents had sprawled out on a makeshift table from the back of a rather crotchety mare. She almost wasnât sure which she hated more: people nosing around on her land, or a serial killer holing up somewhere on the property. At first sheâd told herself to stay out of the way, keep her head down, and wait this ridiculous stint of bad luck out, but the longer she watched them the more apparent it was that few of these people had real experience in the wilderness. Granted they didnât all freeze to death, there was a good change theyâd lose their killer. Her familyâs land alone covered nearly four thousand acres, and it back up to nothing but forests and mountains.
Something caught her eye, a spot on the map marked. With a sigh, fully aware sheâd hate herself in the morning for getting involved, Beck gave a little squeeze of her legs and sent the snorting horse closer to the lanky gentleman hanging over the map.
âI know that area. Thereâs an underground shelter a few miles to the south of it, and a few cabins north east that my grandfather used for hunting. Thereâs not exactly a road, but I could get you there in a few hours. Faster if any of you want to hop on behind me.â