Free Nightfall by Laura Griffin Page B

found
him.”
    “ Are you sure?
What—”
    “ Call you back.”
    Colin eased onto the
shoulder and rolled to a stop about forty yards in front of the
van. He checked the rearview mirror. He considered his hazard
lights, but opted for dark instead. He slipped the Glock from his
holster and climbed out of the truck.
    Colin darted his gaze around
as he approached the vehicle, which had obviously slid off the
road—probably after hitting the same patch of ice as he had. At
least, he hoped that was why it had gone off the road. Any other
reason—assuming this van belonged to Hooks—was going to mean
problems.
    His boots crunched over the
inch of snow that had already accumulated on the shoulder. It was
really coming down now, and he could hardly see shit. He had a
mini-Maglite in his pocket, but he made his way by feel, trusting
his feet to tell him where the asphalt was. After ten paces, he
paused to listen. No sound but the faint whistle of wind through
the forest on either side of him.
    Thirty more paces. He
switched on the flashlight and aimed it at the cargo van in the
ditch. He checked the driver’s window. No one inside. He studied
the exterior. It was an old model—probably mid-eighties. The front
end was crumpled against the embankment and a dusting of snow
covered the hood, which told him the engine had cooled. He shifted
the light and saw the guardrail that had once lined the curve in
the roadway. Now it lay twisted in the ditch behind the
van.
    Colin’s phone vibrated in
his pocket, but he ignored it. He tromped around the back. He
hadn’t seen any people, but more importantly, he hadn’t sensed any.
His sharply honed instincts told him he was alone out here. Whoever
had been driving this thing had been picked up by another vehicle
or possibly gone for help—probably picked up, as going anywhere in
this weather was stupid without a serious coat and a thorough
knowledge of the area.
    Colin stopped again to
listen. He reached for the handle of the cargo door and was
surprised to find it unlocked. Gripping his pistol in his right
hand, he pulled open the door, making sure to stand behind it so it
could act as a shield.
    No sound. No hint of
movement. He aimed the flashlight inside the van, where he expected
to see a shit ton of firearms.
    He saw flowers. Boxes and
boxes brimming with bouquets. The perfume overwhelmed him as he
stepped up to the bumper and shined the light over the sea of pink
and yellow and orange blooms.
    A noise. Colin whirled
around. He recognized the snippet of pop music. It came again, and
he spotted a faint purple glow beneath a layer of white. He picked
up the cell phone and shook off the snow. The caller ID showed a
Bozeman area code. Colin scrolled through the call history—all
Bozeman numbers—and a text came in: Holly!!Where RU? Call me ASAP.
    Colin tucked the phone into
his pocket and re-holstered his weapon. He muttered a curse as he
swung the flashlight around in an arc. No sign of Holly, and he
hoped to hell she hadn’t tried to hike out of here in this weather.
He returned to the front of the van and he noticed the dark smear
near the door handle.
    Blood.
    He scanned the area, feeling
both annoyed and worried. He should be tracking down his informant
right now, not looking for a missing woman. But he couldn’t just
leave her alone out here. Wherever she’d gone, she hadn’t bothered
to take her purse—which meant she was either disoriented from her
injuries or lacking common sense.
    He combed the area with the
flashlight beam and spotted a blue baseball cap on the other side
of the ditch. Beyond it were some broken branches, as if someone
had crashed through there in a hurry. Colin picked his way over the
ravine and studied the trail, frowning. It didn’t make sense. Why
head into the woods when the chances of flagging down help were
much better on the roadside?
    Colin’s voice shattered the
silence as he called out her name. No answer. He trekked deeper
into the trees