Which meant if Bohdan’s men didn’t kill him, Jane certainly would.

Their viewpoints were so radically different that he didn’t know if she’d ever agree his action was for the best. It would be a lie if he told himself anything else. Everything was different now and it always would be. Even at this potentially lethal moment, he felt a deep tug inside him that hadn’t existed before. She wasn’t the only one who was changing.

Stop thinking about what he’d left behind him at MacDuff’s Run, he thought impatiently. He put away his phone as he ran across the northern edge of the moor. If the GPS was correct, the shack was only a few minutes ahead. Right now, the only thing he should be thinking about was finding Dr. Campbell and getting him safely away.

In less than two minutes, he spotted the shack. It was on a remote plot of land that had clearly once been a farm. The shack was a two-story structure that didn’t look much stronger than the rickety boathouse he’d brought down the other day.

He raised his binoculars and surveyed the scene. There were no vehicles nearby and no movement in the area. A few fresh tire tracks pressed into the soft earth in front of him.

He activated the binoculars’ thermal imaging component. No body heat detected on the ground floor. But on the upper floor, there was…something. The heat signature was lower than he might have expected, but he’d seen cool temperatures in drafty environments wreak havoc on heat sensors before. There appeared to be someone in the back of the house.

He circled around the structure. No sign of booby traps or an ambush.

He pulled out his gun and approached the shack’s back entrance. He looked down at the door. No lock or even a knob.

He pushed it open a crack. No trip wires.

He slid inside. The sparse furnishings were from another era, now covered with dust. Wind whistled through cracks in the walls. Floorboards creaked as Caleb made his way to the stairs.

He climbed to the second level. It was a standard three-bedrooms-and-a-bath layout, with the open bathroom at the end of the hall. Next to it was the room where he’d seen the heat signature.

He moved toward the closed door and pushed it open.

The room was empty except for a single chair facing away from the door, toward a broken window. Tattered white curtains blew in the breeze. There was a man in the chair, Caleb realized.

“Dr. Campbell?”

No reply.

Caleb raised his gun and stepped around the front of the room. “Dr. Campbell?”

He stopped. It was Campbell in the chair, but his face was so bruised and swollen that he was almost unrecognizable.

He was dead.

Shit!