He alerted dispatch to the slide, then backed up well past the slide zone and set up barriers, alerting drivers to turn around. Anyone passing through would have to take the road all the way back to Queets to catch the main highway.

A long-ass detour, but better than getting swept away by a mudslide. He was informed that first responders in Queets were posting detour signs already. Good.

Jae left his warm, dry vehicle and inspected the slide area. It was risky, but he could drive forward. The pool of mud at the base of the collapsed hillside hadn’t reached the road. The debris in the road was mostly rocks and splintered trees, with a thin layer of mud soup that just crossed the center line.

He could skirt it and close the other end of the road, which was too far from Forks to have a quick response. But he’d better do it fast because there was no way of knowing if more of the hillside would come down and take out the entire width of the road.

He made it past the slide area and kept driving until he reached the main road, glad there were no oncoming vehicles that required a stop until he was well past the slide area.

At the highway, he set up more barriers, closing the road. He then waited for an officer from Forks to show up with something more substantial than the portable “road closed” signs he carried in his vehicle.

Thoughts of Audrey, Xavier, and miserable SEALs faded as he redirected traffic in the pouring rain. He was going to have his own long, cold, uncomfortable night.

Audrey stared at Xavier’s stiff back, wondering what was wrong. There was just enough light from the gas fire to see the shapes of things, but not enough to identify anything. That blob on the table under the window could be a throw pillow, roast turkey, or a decapitated head.

Given Jeb’s condition outside, the third option might be the most likely, and once again, she felt bile rise.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered. Xavier had frozen in place, and she needed the strong SEAL back.

“A finger,” he said.

“What?” She stepped up behind him and focused on the table that held Xavier’s attention.

He pressed the button on his red-beamed light, and she saw what he was talking about. It looked like a Halloween decoration. A prop. Except for the pool of blood, and the line below the knuckle at the base of the finger. A zigzag pattern. Like Charlie Brown’s shirt.

“Is that…is it a tattoo?” she asked.

The red glow gave just enough light so the shapes she’d seen now made sense. The roast turkey was a small backpack, mounded on the table next to a smashed monitor.