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Goddammit.

She pulled out her phone.

Pictures first.

Her hands shook as she photographed the panels, the trough, the ground. No service bars showed at the top of the screen. It didn’t matter. The pictures were still there. Jodie moved closer to the pen and took another shot. Something snagged at her attention. She lowered the phone.

Wait.

The panels.

She’d spent two days staring at temporary livestock equipment. Opening gates, recording trailer numbers, watching BLM and contractor crews move panels and chutes. There was a number etched into the top rail in the same place as every panel back at the holding pens.

She grabbed her radio.

“Staging, Jodie. I’m on Virgil’s north⁠—”

Static swallowed the rest.

She released the button and keyed it again.

“Jodie to Kyle. I found⁠—”

Voices crashed over each other on the channel, somebody calling for a trailer, somebody else answering from the access road.

“Dammit.” She tried another frequency. “Harold, Jodie. I need you to come look at something on Virgil’s⁠—”

Goblin’s head snapped around behind her as his hackles rose and he growled.

Jodie started to turn when an arm locked around her chest and hauled her backward. She screamed and drove her heel down as hard as she could. It connected with her attacker’s leg. The man grunted, his grip loosening just enough for her to wrench one arm free.

“Let go of me!” She threw her elbow back into his gut.

“Don’t.” The voice was hoarse, wrecked by smoke or her hit, close enough to her ear that she felt his breath.

Jodie twisted hard, trying to see him. He jerked her around before she could. She lost her grip on her radio and it fell into the dirt.

Goblin exploded into barking as Jodie bit down on the arm across her shoulder. The man swore and shoved her away. She stumbled, caught herself, turned, and saw his face.

She knew him.

“Please—”

Too late. He hit the side of her head with something heavy. White light burst across her vision. Her knees gave.

You’re never the one who gets rescued.

The ground came up hard.

Then nothing.

TWENTY-SIX

The last of Hank’s sanctuary horses had just backed out of the trailer when Mac finally caught Hank long enough to pass on Virgil’s message.

“Your cattle are going through the north fence onto Virgil’s east ground.”

Hank stopped with one hand on the trailer door. “Come again?”