He was driving faster than he should’ve been when the road climbed to the fork. The branch he took switched to an even tighter gravel road, and he fishtailed, with stones spitting under the tires, dinging the SUV’s frame.

He eased off the gas, straightening the Ford.

Take it easy, he told himself. But what if this breaks open the Hydra case? What if Cass and Gibby are the Hydra? A tsunami of media will be moving in here.

But wasn’t he forgetting something?

What about Samantha Moore?

Wyatt chided himself for not thinking of her. Yes, the chances of her being alive were slim. That didn’t mean her aunt and uncle, her boyfriend, and her friends had given up hope. Raking his hand through his hair, he returned to the challenge ahead, confronting the pressure to get in front of the story.

It weighed on him.

Chase Lockner didn’t have to say it. Letting Wyatt know about the AP story and stating, “We’re counting on you,” was enough.

This was Wyatt’s first assignment on his new job. He had to prove himself. He was a pro. He knew what to do. Still, in his years in the news business, he’d learned to never sell local reporters short. They were good, and they had their sources. If you weren’t on top of things, they’d beat you every time.

Well, he had his sources, too.

Wyatt tried again to reach McDade, but failed. He kept trying until his phone no longer had a signal.

Cursing, he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.

Could he trust his gut on this? Was he on the right track in believing that the two people arrested in Waterbury were Cass and Gibby?

Doubts gnawed at him.

No, I’ve got to stay the course—craft a plan to cover all the bases, and then follow it.

The people arrested had to be Cass and Gibby, and it was a safe bet that the guy who Cass said lived on the property knows more about them.

And Zeffie, the woman who ran that outpost of a gas station, knows everything and everyone out here in Lucifer’s Notch. All Wyatt had to do was get her to tell him what she knew and point him to the house.

Zeffie must have a landline.

Wyatt could borrow it to try McDade again. He could also try Rod Noble, urge him to release an arrest report. Or try the county if charges had been filed. He’d do whatever he could.

Then he’d track down the guy on the property, and get whatever information he could from him about Cass and Gibby. Then he’d haul ass down to Waterbury, while trying to reach McDade and Noble.

That should work.

After traveling several miles along the road that wound through thick forests, Wyatt recognized a rock formation that jutted near a bend.