“Flat tire,” Sawyer replied, kicking open his door and sliding his lanky legs out onto the dusty road. “Wait inside.”

Ilse paused, then huffed. “Hang on,” she said, firmly, “I’m not staying here.”

Sawyer looked through the window at her. “You’re not coming with. Stay in the car.”

“Oh? And what if the killer sneaks up on me while you’re off searching the farm?”

Sawyer paused for a moment, tongue in his cheek, but then sighed, gesturing at her.

Ilse wasn’t sure if she’d wanted to win this particular battle. Locked behind the car’s doors seemed a safer location than anywhere on the farm. But she had to remind herself why she was here. Who she was here for. She pushed out of the vehicle, her eyes on the old, creepy fields, feeling suddenly very alone and isolated. She stepped delicately out onto the dirt road, exhaustion weighing heavily on every movement. She circled the front of the unmarked sedan and approached where Sawyer was on one knee, grumbling and poking with a pale finger at the front left wheel.

“What happened?” Ilse said.

“Nail,” he replied. He tapped a finger on a jutting metal spike in the tire. Already, the thing was deflated beyond use. “Damn it,” he growled, slapping a hand against the hood of the car. He turned, glancing along the trail, and then his frown deepened further.

“What is it?” Ilse said, reading his expression.

Instead of answering, he began to move carefully toward a portion of the road they’d passed. He pulled up short, staring down. One of his hands twitched toward the holster on his belt.

“Agent Sawyer?” she pressed, peering in closer. Ilse looked past Sawyer’s form, his looming shadow cast as a dark streak against the gray road. There, dull and scattered across the ground, she spotted more nails, as well as screws and small jutting pieces of metal.

They’d been left in a line across the dirt road.

A chill crept up Ilse’s spine. “Oh,” she said, softly. “Think—think someone’s here?” she added, dropping her voice to a whisper.

The line of metal fragments, though only an inch off the ground at the highest point, seemed a veritable battlement, warning off intrusion.

“Someone doesn’t want visitors,” Sawyer murmured, unbuttoning his holster and resting his thumb on his gun. “Interesting.” He looked at her. “Stay near me and behind me. Or, if you’d rather…”

“I’m not waiting in the car.”

He massaged the bridge of his nose, but then shrugged. “Stay close. Stay careful.” He breathed slowly, calming. If anything, he seemed more relaxed once he’d seen the trail of nails and screws. An accident, it seemed, would have irritated him. A booby trap, though? Almost as if he relished it.

Ilse followed as he began to stride away from the car, circling the undergrowth in the direction she’d originally indicated. “This way, hmm?” he mouthed softly. “How about we take a little look… Remember, don’t go off on your own, Doc.”