Here and there stood large stacks of timber, averaging eight meters high and double that in length. The timber had been denuded of limbs and cut into logs, then piled into pyramid shapes, ready for transport to the mill.

The forestry commission likely had plans to cut a road and haul the lumber off to the mill at some future date. Near the base of a log pyramid, two men and the woman called Callie argued. Three on one weren’t horrible odds. Under normal circumstances, Harry would take his chances. But he couldn’t risk Sammy.

He moved perceptibly until Sammy came into view. They had trussed up the boy at the far end of the same pyramid, approximately fifteen meters from his captors.

“I say we leave him. No one will come through this area for some time,” a dark-haired man suggested.

“Professor said not to leave a trace.” Callie’s arm sliced through the air horizontally, her movement emphatic.

“How do you propose we do that? Short of burying that child, someone will find his remains,” the other man disagreed, speaking up for the first time.

“We don’t have a shovel,” the first man said. “How do we dig a hole?”

Sticking to the trees, Harry circled the clearing until he arrived on the uphill side of the pyramid opposite of where Sammy’s captors had convened. Harry darted to the base of the lumber pile and plastered his body against the rough bark. Peeking around the side, he gauged the distance to where Sammy sat secured to one of several stakes that kept the logs from rolling downhill.

Placing his knife between his teeth, Harry combat crawled around the edge of the pyramid and reached his son from the rear.

“Sammy, it’s Dad,” Harry whispered, his voice barely audible. “Don’t talk. Don’t move.”

Sammy trembled. Harry could fairly sense the emotion throbbing through the boy’s small body.

“When I cut you loose, pretend you are still bound until I say run. Then hide behind that big rock in the trees. Got that?”

Sammy nodded.

“Good boy.”

Using his blade, Harry cut the rope off Sammy’s wrists while Gilmont’s minions continued to argue.

“We could burn him. We have plenty of timber,” Callie suggested.

Internally, Harry seethed. Any remorse he might have experienced for what he planned evaporated.

“What if the logs catch fire?” the dark-haired man asked. “The entire forestry commission will spot the smoke and descend on us.”

The rope gave way on Sammy’s ankles. “Wait until I say run.” Harry squeezed Sammy’s shoulder, then slithered back the way he had come. For the moment, the boy was safe from these overeducated fiends.