They drove onto the pasture, rolling over the same section of fence they had plowed through the day before. The Honda jounced across the muddy field until they reached the corral adjacent to the barn. The barn doors were partially open, but Cole couldn’t make out anything inside.

“Wait here.”

“Logan, you just said they’re not here. Let’s just go.” She covered her nose with the neck of her sweatshirt. “That smell is killing me.”

“I have to look.”

“Why?”

“Because I left a man chained up in there yesterday.”

He got out, shut the door, and ran through the rain until he was close enough to get a clear view inside the barn. He was back inside the car seconds later.

“Well?” she asked. “What’s the story?”

“He wasn’t in there.”

“So that’s a good thing, right?”

He didn’t answer.

“Cole, you’re white as a ghost. What was in there?”

“Huh?”

“What about the horses? Please, don’t tell me . . .”

“They’re fine.” He lied. “The horses are fine.”

There were footprints leading away from the barn, a large group of them—cleat marks. They led up the pasture toward the house. Cole told her to follow them.

Dodging cattle bones, they crossed the pasture and parked in front of the house.

“Doesn’t look promising,” Savannah intoned.

The front door had been ripped from its hinges, leaving the entry wide open. The trail of footprints led inside. Other prints fanned around to the back of the house.

Cole got out of the car and stood in the open door. The smell coming out of the house was strong enough to activate his gag reflex.

“Mr. Blunt?” he called. “Thedford Blunt, are you in there? It’s Cole Logan.”

Cole didn’t know whether to expect a cry for help or the crack of gunfire. He got neither.

“Cole, I don’t like this. Let’s just go.”

“I can’t. I have to look. Just stay here. Turn the car around, roll down the window, and keep the motor running. If you hear me yell, drive on and don’t look back.”

“I’m not going to—”

“Just do it! Please.”

After some hesitation she did as instructed, turning the front of the car away from the house.

Cole approached the front steps. There were holes in the treads where footfalls had broken through the wood. He moved up the stairs with careful steps. A cloud of flies greeted him when he reached the doorway.

“Mr. Blunt, are you in here?” he said, swatting madly at the air.