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Carter mumbled something before throwing over his shoulder, “Camp’s good, and the kids are well behaved.”

“That’s great.” Cisco tried to engage further. “It seems like you’ve struck up a nice friendship with Lance.”

Carter stiffened ahead of him, but didn’t respond.

Cisco didn’t let it deter him. “Camp can be a place you make friends for life,” he continued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Lance and some of your kids want to stay in touch once camp is over.”

“Maybe,” Carter muttered, but he didn’t slow his pace or show any overt interest in the subject. He simply brought them deeper and deeper into the woods.

Silence reigned for about ten minutes before Cisco started to get antsy. Something wasn’t quite adding up. He needed clarification before he went any farther. “How, exactly, did you find where we’re going, anyway?” he asked. “We’re a long way from camp.”

“There’s an old cabin out here, and I ran across it one day before the kids arrived when I was out exploring.”

Okay. That made sense. Cisco relaxed just a little. When he’d been young, he’d covered his share of woods behind his childhood home, having adventures and scouting deep into what he’d then considered, wilderness.

“And we’re going there now because…?” Cisco let the question hang.

“You were looking for what made Bailey sick.” Carter finally supplied after they’d covered at least another quarter mile. “I think I discovered something.”

Cisco’s immediate thought was that whatever he was going to be shown, Carter had known about it for a while. It was just a gut feeling, but usually Cisco’s instincts were right. Which posed the question, why hadn’t the kid offered up the information earlier in the day?

Grimly, Cisco bit his tongue and continued to follow. If this was Carter’s way of making himself feel important, Cisco would know fairly soon.

Another few minutes passed, and in the fading light, Cisco could see a small clearing up ahead. As they approached, he noted a dilapidated cabin that sat in the center of the area, amidst tall, unkempt grasses, weeds, and saplings.

“Wow,” Cisco chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “It looks like it could be haunted.”

Carter shot him a withering look as they both stopped several feet away from the small building. “No such thing,” the boy grunted, pragmatically. “Anyway, I think what you’re looking for is in there.” He gestured that Cisco should go ahead of him.

Cisco gave an internal sigh. The last of the sun had almost set, and if he didn’t get a move on, even with the light from his cell-phone, they’d eventually be stumbling back to camp.

He took a deep breath and approached the shack. It was nothing more than a mess of aged boards graced with one smashed-out window, a door hanging from a single upper hinge, and a front porch held up by—if he wasn’t mistaken—encroaching vines. Not the sturdiest of structures, and not the kind of place that instilled confidence that one wouldn’t put a foot right through some of those rotted floor-planks.

Still, if Carter had been inside, it had to be capable of holding some weight. Of course, the kid weighed, easily, a hundred pounds less than Cisco, so he’d have to step carefully.

“Where do I look once I get inside?” he asked, lighting up the flashlight on his phone.

“Back corner,” Carter grunted from behind.

Gingerly making his way from the granite step, up onto the narrow porch, Cisco felt somewhat better when the boards didn’t give way, but when he reached for the edge of the door to pull it open—the knob was long since gone—the entire thing came loose from its one pivot point and fell. Cisco had to dodge left to avoid being beaned.

“Nice construction,” he hissed as the dust of the ages settled around them.

“Yeah. I’ve had to tack it up a couple times,” Carter grumbled.

Oh really? The teen didn’t appear like he’d know a hinge from an eyebolt, or a hammer from a drill, but looks could be deceiving, so…

Cisco walked cautiously into the shack, sending his light around in a full arc. There wasn’t much inside. A broken chair, a stove-pipe that had long since fallen to the floor, and a lot of old, mouse-chewed papers strewn underfoot. The place gave Cisco’s skin the crawls, and that wasn’t just his OCD speaking. The single room was actually disgusting, and he had the urge to pull his shirt up over his nose to avoid possible hantavirus infection.

“Over there,” Carter stood close behind him and pointed so Cisco could see where he meant.

Cisco shined his light in the direction indicated, and…

“Holy hell,” he hissed.

The kid had been right.

There was one, shiny new bottle propped up in the corner, and Cisco didn’t even need to move close to see the label.

Peanut Oil.

No longer concerned with germs and bugs, Cisco carefully walked forward and dropped to his haunches in front of the damning find. It was a smoking gun, alright, and there was approximately one-half inch of liquid missing.

“You’re right, Carter. This has to be⁠—”

Something hard smashed down on the back of Cisco’s head. Pain exploded in his cranium, and he pitched forward. His phone flew from his fingertips. Before he could clear his suddenly blurred eyesight, another blow struck him on the temple, and the world immediately slipped away…

Hilly had long since given up her sexy pose on the bed. She gotten up and put on more practical clothes than the sexy robe she’d had draped over naked body.

What was taking Cisco so long? He’d been gone for over an hour and a half, and given the scope of where he’d said he’d be looking, the savvy cop should have been back long before now.

Hilly didn’t want to be one of “those women” who checked in on a man every time he wasn’t around, but her fingers itched to call his number, and see if he was okay.

Another fifteen minutes passed before she said “fuck it”, and stomped outside in the dark, an equally agitated Nel by her side.

Yeah. Her best four-legged companion could always pick up on a mood. Together, they checked the big barn first, then each outbuilding in turn. There wasn’t a sign of Cisco, and the fear gnawing at her gut increased. She then strode to the parking lot, and his bike was still there. Grabbing her phone from her pocket where it had been practically burning a hole, she finally hit his number and waited.

Are sens

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