Grayson pulled onto the Parkers’ Blue Ridge property over two hours after leaving DC, later than he’d expected. It had taken him a while to find it . . . there were numerous dirt and gravel roads in the forested area, some marked with numbers and others not marked at all.

As he stepped out of the Suburban, the smell of smoke hit him, making his eyes water.

Must be smoke drifting from the forest fire they were talking about on the radio.

He turned his gaze to the hazy sky before scanning the area around him. The ground was rocky here, with none of the red clay described in the report. Hopefully, he’d have more luck as he drove farther in.

He tried to call Eli once he was back inside the Suburban to tell him he was on the property. The call didn’t connect, and Grayson cursed when he checked his phone and realized there was no cell service here.

Deciding to check in once he was on the way back to DC, Grayson drove slowly down the gravel road and squinted once he was about a half mile in. Along the shoreline of a nearby creek, the dirt was tinged red, different from the orange-tinted clay often seen in the DC area.

He parked his vehicle and grabbed an evidence bag from his glove compartment. Kneeling at the water’s edge, he scooped an ounce or so of dirt inside the bag.

That task done, he shifted his gaze across the road. He’d planned to search for the cabin he’d seen in the aerial view of the property he’d found online, but maybe it was better to explore around here first.

Cabin. What an understatement. From the surface area of the roof he’d seen in the aerial view of the property online, that cabin was more like a resort lodge.

Grayson crossed the road on foot and climbed up a ridge. He’d just crested the top when he spotted something pale on the other side that contrasted sharply with the evergreen forest—a tent set up at the floor of the valley and a pickup truck parked behind it. Based on its location, it was on Parker property, and Claire had told him her parents were private people. They wouldn’t have given someone permission to camp here, would they?

Deciding to try his luck again, Grayson pulled out his phone to call Alex. Maybe he could find out from Claire.

When the call didn’t connect, Grayson thumbed off the phone and shoved it in his pocket. Remembering the gift Gabe had given Claire in Florida, Grayson shook his head.

That satellite phone would really come in handy now.

He flicked a glance over his shoulder. Should he go back to the interstate where he’d had coverage and make his calls, or stay here and take a look? Eli already knew he was on the property . . .

His mind made up, Grayson started down the other side of the ridge to investigate. He was nearing the tent when a cracking noise behind him had him spinning around.

Grayson’s adrenaline surged as he spotted a brawny man approaching quickly through the trees. His face was familiar, and Grayson quickly flipped through his mental Rolodex.

About six feet tall, two hundred twenty pounds or so, black hair, mid-forties . . .

Then it clicked. Roy King.

“Who are you?” King demanded as he came to a stop about ten feet away, scowling. “What are you doing here?”

Cursing himself for not having his weapon in hand the moment he left his vehicle, Grayson curled his empty fingers into fists. “I could ask you the same.”

“I asked first.”

Grayson resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Federal agent. I need a soil sample.”

“For what reason?”

“Trying to match it up to a suspect.”

King spread his feet a little further apart and casually hooked a thumb in his back pocket. “A suspect in what?”

“Kidnapping and murder.” Grayson tensed, keeping a close eye on the man’s hands. “Sound familiar?”

King’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to imply something?”

“Why are you here?” Grayson demanded.

The big man snorted. “Since you seem to know so much, maybe you should tell me.”

“My best guess is you’re hiding out. Who’re you working for, King? Nick Papadakos?”

A rustle came from the bushes and Grayson whipped his head around, wary of a potential attack from a second person. Too late, he realized it was a mistake to take his eyes off of King.

Electricity jolted him as a pair of sharp probes slammed into his chest, freezing every muscle in his body. Stunned, he tried to react but could only clench his teeth as pulses from King’s Taser paralyzed him with a rapid tick-tick-tick. When they finally stopped a million years later, his body folded and he dropped to the ground hard, gasping for breath.

“For a federal agent,” King said with a grunt, “you’re not too bright.”

Grayson cursed himself mentally as the large man picked up his gun and tucked it into his waistband, then tased him again for good measure. When that pulse ended and Grayson’s body went limp, King yanked out the probes and bent over to grab his wrists. Still incapacitated for a moment, Grayson couldn’t resist as he was dragged over rough ground and into the tent, and his wrists quickly bound with rope.

His heart raced while he did his best to think. He couldn’t fight the man, not tied up.

How long would it be before Eli checked on him? Given how scrambled Grayson’s brain was, it was hard to tell. Another couple of hours, at least; it would take Eli that long to get here once he realized Grayson was late calling in.

Grunting with the effort, King hefted Grayson onto a folding camp chair. More rope was wrapped around his chest and tied off.

Grayson scanned the tent, taking stock. Other than three canvas camp chairs and a lightweight aluminum table, there was no furniture. Several sleeping bags were rolled up and stacked against a canvas wall. A couple of duffel bags sat in a corner, one opened enough that Grayson could see it was filled with food. This had to be where they’d planned to hold Claire.

But who else is involved? Who’s calling the shots?

As King tied his ankles to the chair, Grayson ground out, “You’re under investigation.”

Ignoring his comment, King searched Grayson’s pockets and extracted his keys. Grayson clenched his jaw as the man took his wallet and phone as well.

Son of a bitch. How was he going to get out of this?