“Are we going to check the house?” the deputy whispered.

Mason took a breath. “I think we’ll wait for the FBI’s SWAT team. If we can clear the outbuildings, that should be sufficient.”

He wanted to go pound on the door and ring the doorbell a dozen times.

Someone was going to be livid with him for stepping onto the property without waiting for SWAT. He didn’t need to push his luck. Conflict warred in him. What if the next five minutes mean Ava lives or dies? He blew out a breath. She could be in the other outbuilding; he wasn’t twiddling his thumbs.

Keeping to the edge of the woods, they moved toward the back of the property. The second shed was slightly smaller than the first but had the same bright spotlight over the main door. They spotted a white van parked beside it.

His heart rate jumped at the sight of the van. “Look like the video?” he whispered to Ray.

Ray squinted and shook his head. “I can’t tell. The light doesn’t illuminate the front. The body of it looks about right.”

The shed behind the house didn’t have any windows to peek through. Mason led the group, keeping just inside the tree line of the surrounding woods, circling about ten yards away from the back of the smaller shed. Still no windows. They moved farther. The other side of the shed didn’t offer a way to look inside, either. They’d have to use the door.

“Crap,” Mason muttered. The three stepped out from the woods. The shed was now between them and any view of the house. They moved closer and got a clear look at the van.

“Looks the same,” said Ray. “Same make and model that we saw.” He cupped his hands and peered through the window. “I can’t see into the back. It’s too dark. There are a lot of papers on the dash and floor. Some painting supplies.”

Mason’s heart started to sink. Are we in the wrong spot?

He stepped close to the shed, leaned an ear against it, and held his breath for a solid ten seconds.

Silence.

“We need to look inside. Stay here while I check the door.” Hugging the side of the building in the dark, he softly walked forward, and peeked around the corner and into the bright spotlight. The door had both a bolt and a huge hanging lock.

What was locked inside? Paint sprayers? Another van? Ava?

He moved back to Ray and the deputy. “It has a big lock. Without bolt cutters, we aren’t getting in.”

“I have bolt cutters,” said the deputy at the same time that Ray replied, “We need to wait for SWAT.”

Mason nodded. “It’s time to wait.” He turned and eyed the silent house. “It doesn’t appear to have a basement, and none of the windows are covered. I don’t think anything is being hidden in that house. This is the only building where it looks like something could be hidden.”

The deputy’s radio crackled quietly. “FBI is here.”

The three of them glanced at the house ten yards away. “Let’s head back.” They jogged silently back the way they’d come, trying to see by the light of one dim flashlight.

“What do you think?” Ray huffed quietly to Mason.

“I don’t think anyone is here,” Mason said. “I hope Zander is having better luck than us.”

Fifteen minutes later, the SWAT team had determined that the house and both sheds were empty. They’d rung the doorbell at the home and listened for noises inside with some special hearing equipment that Mason wanted for OSP. A simple blow to the door had opened it up and the house had been cleared within minutes while snipers kept watch on both sheds.

Then they’d cut the lock on the first shed and examined the John Deere. When they reached the second shed, they’d called for the detectives after determining no one was present.

Ray and Mason made the walk up the driveway again, this time along with Special Agent Parek, who’d accompanied the SWAT team from Portland. Parek had been working the command center for the Bridge Killer case and had attended all the briefings with Mason and Ray. When they’d jogged down the driveway from the property, Parek had given them an odd look but held back any comments as the SWAT team got organized.

The SWAT team leader gestured toward the inside of the second shed. “Looks like someone has been busy in there.”

Mason, Ray, and Parek looked inside and froze.

“You better call for a forensics team,” Mason muttered to Parek. “Ray, call Zander. Tell him we struck gold.”

No one was in the shed, but a metal ring about a foot in diameter, in the shape of a daisy, lay in the center of the floor. A small bouquet of real daisies lay next to it. Hair covered the floor next to an odd grouping of plywood and two-by-fours.

Mason squinted at the hair at the end of the plywood closest to the door. It was all short and brown. As if someone had been lying on the wood when his or her head had been shaved. His gaze traveled to the foot of the plywood. More hair on the floor.

But this time it was long and Ava’s color.

He spun, pushing Ray out of the way, and took three staggering steps, gasping for breath and trying to hold on to the contents of his stomach. He bent over, his hands resting on his thighs, his head hanging.

I can’t be certain it’s hers.

He could feel his fingers running through her hair.

He’d know her hair anywhere.

“Mason?” Ray spoke behind him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Give me a minute.” He breathed heavily through his nose several times and straightened. “She was here. He’s taken her somewhere. That means he’s ready for the next step.”