“She’s pregnant.” The words slipped from him. Not deliberate, or, maybe they were. Because he wanted to tell someone. He had to share the news with someone, and Logan had always been a good friend.
Logan’s eyes widened. “Yours?”
The question had him clenching his fingers into fists and taking a step forward. Maybe not such a friend for long.
Logan’s hands flew up. “Of course it’s yours! I meant, hell, I’m just stunned, okay? A baby... You and Sydney.” He shook his head, and a broad smile split his lips. “That baby is going to wrap you around her finger!”
Yes, he was pretty sure that she would.
“A baby,” Logan whispered, and his eyes widened. He glanced back at the house. “Oh, hell, man, you probably felt like your whole world was burning down last night.”
“It was.” Gunner didn’t tell him that he hadn’t known about the baby then. When he’d looked up and seen the flames, and known that Sydney was inside, yes, it had felt just as if his world was burning. Because it had been.
“We’re gonna find him,” Logan promised. “You know we will. With our resources...”
The EOD’s resources were limitless. But even the EOD couldn’t fight Mother Nature.
“A storm’s coming in,” Gunner said as his gaze rose to the thickening clouds above them. “That could wash away a lot of evidence.” His gaze focused on the line of trees. If the guy had been out there, waiting, he might have left tracks behind. Gunner was very, very good at following tracks. “I’m going to see what I can find.”
Logan nodded. “I kept the techs back because I figured you’d want first shot. Didn’t want them messing up the scene.”
Logan knew exactly how he liked to work.
“You lead the way,” Logan continued, “and they’ll be there to back you up.” Then Logan clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, man, you’re going to make a great dad to that lucky kid.”
Gunner tensed. “I...hope so.”
Logan frowned at him. Before Logan could say more, Gunner headed toward the trees. He’d already scouted the area before, looking for the perfect vantage point that the attacker would have used. A spot that would provide him with good cover, but one that wouldn’t put him too far away from the scene. The arsonist would have needed to get to the house quickly, and then be able to rush back and hide when the flames blazed.
Gunner wondered how long the man had stayed there. Had he watched as Gunner ran inside?
He eased through the light covering of brush at the edge of the woods. He made sure not to snap any branches. He didn’t want to create any evidence confusion. His grandfather had taught him and Slade how to slip in and out of any place, without leaving any traces behind.
So far, he wasn’t finding any evidence. No footprints on the ground. No broken leaves or branches. The attacker had been careful.
But if he’d been watching for any length of time, he would have needed to find one spot. One perfect spot to sit and wait and watch. No matter how careful the man had been when he got in the woods, he would have left a sign at his waiting spot. Turned-down grass. A cigarette butt. Something. Most folks couldn’t just wait for a long time in total stillness.
Gunner could. Most couldn’t.
When they’d practiced with their grandfather, going out past the reservation and into the woods that surrounded the land there, Slade had always hated standing still. He’d taken to grabbing a piece of pine straw and braiding the pieces together, over and over, because Slade had needed something to keep his hands busy.
Some watchers smoked to help pass the time. A bad idea, because the prey could catch the scent of cigarettes in the air.
Some chewed gum. Some carried a toothpick.
Slade had twined the straw around his hand, an absent gesture, as he waited—and told Gunner what a stupid idea it was to follow their grandfather into the woods.
Gunner stilled and glanced back toward the house. This was the spot he would have chosen if he wanted to watch Sydney’s home—to watch and not be seen. If he crouched lower, he’d be totally covered by the trees before him, but if he wanted to see, then he just shifted a bit to the left.
He had a perfect view of what had been Sydney’s upstairs window.
He glanced down at the grass around him. It had bent, just a bit, enough to tell him that his instincts were right. The watcher had been here.
Gunner swept the ground with his gaze, looking for some kind of path. He’d been on the road last night, and there hadn’t been any other car on this dead-end street. That meant the watcher had stashed his vehicle some other place. Gunner knew that a highway waited, about four miles back through the woods. The guy would have needed to make a route back to that highway.
Gunner just had to find it.
The watcher was good. Gunner would give him that. It took him fifteen minutes of searching before he found the first broken branch. Sure, that branch could have been broken by a wild animal, but...