“Bonus.”

They both got out of the car, and Kincaid put her hands on her hips as if she were ready to go to battle or call forth superpowers. They scanned the immediate area, searching for rogue goats. Unlike the tangle of trees they’d driven through to get there, the land in front of the house was mostly cleared with only a few trees breaking the sight line. In the distance, there was some type of small shed that leaned too far to the left, and a fenced area was next to it. Kincaid pointed to the fencing. “That’s probably where the goats are supposed to be. We can start looking around while we wait for Marco. Grab the animal crackers.”

Ash leaned back into the car to snag the cookies and then shut the door. “Maybe we should start near the shed.” But before Kincaid could respond, a thumping sound came from his left and then the sharp sound of a baby’s cry. He spun to face the direction of the noise. “What the hell?”

Kincaid turned on her heel toward the house, and an oh-shit look crossed her face. “Oh. No.”

The crying sound came again, and dread filled him. That wasn’t a baby. “Is that…”

She looked over at him. “It is. And it’s coming from inside the house.”

The words were like a line from a horror movie. The call’s coming from inside the house! But he didn’t think mentioning that would be helpful since Kincaid already looked horrified. He cleared his throat. “I’m guessing that’s bad. I’m guessing goats in the house are never good.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “They are not. I’ve already started moving some things over.”

Ash cringed. He’d once had a raccoon sneak into his parents’ garage. The destruction had been impressive. He couldn’t imagine what two hungry goats could do. “Well, at least it will be easier to get them cornered.”

Kincaid made a sound of resignation and pulled a key from her pocket. “Might as well see what the damage is.”

Ash followed her up the front steps and onto the porch. The wooden slats beneath their feet creaked in protest. After one more deep breath, Kincaid unlocked the door and swung it open. The bleating sounds got louder, and the stench of farm animal was unmistakable in the air.

Kincaid wrinkled her nose. “Fantastic.”

“Here. Let me go first,” Ash said, stepping in front of her. “Just in case they’re attack goats. I’m the one with the treats.”

She arched a brow. “Attack goats?”

“You never know. I once had a swan go on a murderous rampage at a park and try to kill me.” He gave her a pointed look. “Life tip: Don’t run out of bread at the swan pond.”

She was smiling now. “Noted.”

Ash stepped inside the high-ceilinged foyer and looked toward the big living room on the right. Clothes and other detritus were strewn all over the floor. It looked as if someone had taken the boxes Kincaid had stacked in there, ripped them up Hulk-style, and then thrown the contents around the room in a rage. Pieces of chewed-up cardboard box littered every bit of the floor.