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the size to the prints on the porch.”
    “Good idea.” He left and was back in a minute with a ratty pair of combat boots.
    They opened the back door and she stared down at the gray floorboards. “The prints are substantially larger than these boots,” she announced. “Luke had a visitor recently.” She headed down the porch steps to examine the marks more closely. “Oh, wow.”
    “What?” Gray was instantly at her back, the heat of his big body close enough for her to feel.
    “Drag marks. Two thick, parallel lines. Something heavy was pulled out of there.”
    “Like a body dragging its heels?”
    “Yup.”
    He had a pistol in hand and jumped in front of her so fast she barely saw him move. “Cover your eyes, Sammie Jo. I’m turning on my flashlight.”
    She slapped a hand over her face.
    “Okay. The light’s off. I need you to come over here,” he announced.
    He was crouching a few yards away from her. She joined him and immediately saw what he was looking at. “Do you think that’s blood?” she asked in a hushed voice.
    He touched a dark, wet cluster of dead leaves and smelled his fingertips. “It’s blood, all right. Can you pick up anything from here? A trail?”
    She walked around slowly, staring at the ground. “There are too many disturbed leaves and sticks. But I’m not seeing any more blood. Maybe someone bled here and then was carried away from this spot?”
    “Could be,” he allowed.
    She walked in ever wider circles, seeking some clue as to what had happened here. “I only see a few drops of blood near that first bit you found. I’d say someone was punched there. Maybe knocked out. I can’t discern a spatter pattern, and there’s not enough blood for a knife wound or gunshot.”
    “Makes sense.” Gray went back into the house to conduct a more thorough search while she continued looking around outside. They’d been at it for maybe ten minutes when she heard something in the woods. And it sounded like it was headed this way.
    “Gray,” she called out low. “Bring that gun of yours out here.”
    He was by her side in an instant, shoving her behind him. She peered over his shoulder impatiently. She spotted the movement and let out a relieved breath. “It’s a dog.”
    “I don’t see anything.”
    “That’s why I’m here, Smarty Pants.”
    A big yellow Labrador retriever bounded out of the brush a few moments later.
    “That’s Luke’s dog,” Gray said. “Take cover. Zimmer may be close behind.” He took her arm, but she stood her ground, staring in horror at the dog.
    “Uhh, I don’t think so,” she said thickly. She turned away, retching.
    Gray flashed his light at the dog and swore, confirming what she’d seen. The dog’s muzzle and front legs were matted with blood, and he was carrying what looked like a severed human hand in his mouth.
    “Here, boy.” He whistled to the dog, who bounced over to them eagerly. Gray grabbed the dog’s collar. “Can you get me a piece of rope or something to leash him?”
    She stumbled back to the house and came back with an electric extension cord. Gray had disengaged the hand from the animal’s mouth. It looked badly mauled, and it looked male. “Luke’s?” she choked out.
    He shrugged. “Let’s see if we can get Fido to lead us back to the rest of this guy.” He showed the dog the hand and said urgently, “Go get him, boy.”
    The dog took off, straining against the makeshift leash. They raced along behind the dog who took off like an arrow through the woods.
    The spruce forest had little undergrowth apart from dead, needleless branches that tried to scratch the heck out of her as she barged through them. Were it not for her excellent vision, they’d have succeeded.
    The dog whined and Sam strained to see ahead. “There. I see something,” she panted to Gray.
    He dragged the dog to a walk, and they approached cautiously.
    “No movement,” she reported quietly. She eased forward, taking the lead whether Gray