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She stilled. Listened.
The skeleton crew of night employees had been outside smoking around eleven, but all of them were back inside now.
A flash of light caught her gaze, and she leaned forward with the binoculars to check the back gate—one rarely used, except by the lawn crew.
A dark truck eased toward the back of the plant, its headlights now turned off. When it pulled to a stop, three figures darted to the back of the vehicle and swiftly unloaded several dozen packing cartons.
Harold’s growl rumbled louder. He rose into a sit, his ears pricked and his hackles raised.
Sara lifted her camera and snapped off several dozen photographs.
The vehicle left with the same stealth as it had arrived.
Bingo.
At 4:00 a.m., still on an adrenaline high, Sara packed up her things and started down the trail with Harold at her side.
Bad timing to be heading home. She could hardly claim to have been stargazing or to be up for an early run at this hour. But the good deputy of Ryansville was undoubtedly snuggled in bed, and nothing ever stirred around this town before five in the morning.
Which was why the sound of soft footsteps sent a chill straight to her heart. She stopped abruptly. Slipped off the trail to the left and crouched, placing a warning hand on Harold’s neck, her senses on high alert.
The faint sounds drew closer.
This was no deer or bumbling raccoon. These were human footfalls, carefully placed to avoid detection.
“No,” she whispered to the dog, resting a hand over his muzzle.
Harold remembered his training, but his entire body shook with anticipation.
A man came into view, his features indistinguishable in the dark. Ten feet away he stopped. Stood in complete silence for an eternity. Then slowly moved on as if he, too, was wary of others in the dark.
Had he heard her? Possibly seen her in the distance? But surely he couldn’t have identified her.
She waited another half hour before finally resuming her cautious trip home, and even then she halted at every sound.
CHAPTER SIX
