Ryker sighed heavily and grimaced at his aching muscles. Beads of sweat trickled down his skin, and he tasted the salt on his tongue. Even though Liam didn't weigh as much as the equipment he'd lugged across the desert all those years ago, he was still no lightweight, and it was pressing down on his back as the rucksack pulled him forward.

Meanwhile, the giggling on Ray's back had stopped and given way to quiet, even breaths. The little mop of hair rested soundly on his shoulder, swaying barely noticeably with every step. His arms hung limply around his neck, forcing him to clasp his hands behind his back and under Liam's bum to prevent the exhausted whirlwind from slipping off his back.

Eve, at his side, also stumbled time and again over the angular stones protruding from the path or the roots growing like steps through the hard-packed earth. After the excitement, her reserves of strength seemed exhausted. And time and again, he gave her words of encouragement or a gentle smile when they stopped to catch their breath.

"What do you want to do now?" he finally said during one of her pauses, suppressing the urge to stand up and stretch. What he was alluding to was clear, but Eve looked at him for a longer heartbeat. He could literally see the cogs of her mind turning slower than usual.

"You mean Hawkins and the incident..." It was a statement, not a question that slipped over his red lips, yet he nodded slowly to give her confirmation. Eve groaned and wiped her eyes. "Hawkins has always helped us so far ... Liam was distraught; maybe he just wanted to talk his way out of it..." she said quietly, her face screwed up in pain. "I'll speak to him again when he's had a shower and some sleep. If he's sure, then we'll have to report it."

Ryker grumbled to himself, and they both had the same thought: neither of them believed the sheriff's office in the next town would be interested in such a vague incident if they didn't even feel the need to investigate missing person cases in the area.

If Ryker had his way, he'd want to grab Hawkins and punch him in the gut as revenge. Just the thought that the madman could have beaten Liam made his blood boil in his veins. But on the other side was the calculation, the razor-sharp mind of the detective, who wondered whether it was even possible or just a childish fantasy. Hawkins' reaction when Liam accused him of pushing him. His posture, crouching at the hole's edge, trying to reach the depths... There were too many unexplained, dodgy factors in this case.

"Tell me... does the bloke often come near the cottage?" Ray then asked, glancing sideways as unobtrusively as possible.

"Sometimes," Eve replied thoughtfully. "His cottage is nearby, so he sets traps in this area or hunts out here. That's why Liam's not allowed in the woods." She sounded out of breath; the walk was tiring, and she felt sorry for Ray. "There are four cabins nearby. One belongs to Hawkins, and the others belong to a couple of nouveau riche. They come here several times yearly for a week or two with their mistresses and then leave again."

Ryker raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised that Eve knew these things.

She chuckled and shrugged. "Riona had a thing with one of those guys. That's what she told me. She also gets on well with Hawkins. Rio has a way with men. Even crazy ones."

Ryker laughed, but it sounded hollow. Hawkins was one of many problems. An uneasy feeling was settling in his stomach. What if the guy had rented the cabin from Dylan or taken advantage of the owners' absence to move in?

"Maybe Rio can talk to Hawkins and get his side of the story. We were all pretty confused today," he suggested. However, he secretly considered the best time to spy on the other huts.

When the forest finally cleared before them, revealing the dark asphalt that snaked like a snake through the sea of color, the sun had passed its zenith and sank over the forest tops. Just a few hundred meters away, the dark roof of the cottage was visible. The lake's surface glistened as if diamonds had been sprinkled over it.

"Home," Ray murmured. His heart leaped with relief and joy when he saw the cottage and the lake. He had never felt anything like this before, and he would have been surprised at himself for even uttering those words in another moment.

'Home is where my arse is,' he had once said to his comrades. He hadn't had a home since the death of his parents. But now everything was different. However, he lacked the strength and the necessary muse to ponder the words that had just left his mouth.

Taking a deep breath, he couldn't hold back the sigh of relief that slipped from his lips. But it wasn't just his own. Next to him, Eva also took an audible deep breath.

Now that home was in sight, their atmosphere seemed to lighten like a helium-filled balloon. Eve smiled at Ray before brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear and gently nudging Ray with her shoulder.

After the rocky and uneven path to the cave, the white, flat gravel felt almost divine as they approached the cottage. At the same time, he felt a strange rumbling in his stomach the closer they got to the cottage. Almost as if he had eaten something wrong, but that was impossible. After all, he'd often nibbled on Eve's delicious pancakes; coffee with maple syrup was part of his morning routine. So, it made no sense that his stomach was rebelling. At least, that's what he thought. But his uneasy feeling was explained when they finally crossed the road and turned into the driveway to the cottage.

By now, the walking pile of junk was back in the driveway as if it had never been gone. Riona's mate had brought Rusty here, and maybe the blonde had also come home from her girls' night out and was sleeping it off. But what made Ray frown was the second car parked next to Rusty.

A silver-grey Subaru Forester stood in the midday sun as if it had just been through the car wash. Only a few splashes of mud on the sides, which must have come from the rough road to Silvershore, marred the image of the hire car. The rear window was tinted, but he could still faintly make out the outline of a child's seat in the back seat in the sunlight.

'What the hell?' the question echoed through Ray's head. But further thoughts and the beginnings of a word got stuck in his throat when his gaze fell on the solitary figure on the cottage's terrace.

The muscles under Ryker's jacket tensed as if a hand grenade had been thrown at his feet. And that's how he felt: caught cold. The icy surge of water that hit him at that moment washed the tiredness from his mind and body. His hands clenched jerkily into fists behind his back, and his jaw muscles ground under the shadow of his beard like a predator rejoicing over its prey after a long hunt.

The gentle expression on his face became so hard that you could almost believe you were looking at a stranger from one moment to the next. The mask he had been wearing for the past few weeks slipped, and the gentle giant, who had taken care of the repairs at the inn with meticulous precision, was replaced by the angry detective and deceived man. Deceived, lied to, drawn into a dirty game. This mixture created a hot spark of anger that exploded like a volcano in his veins as the figure on the terrace moved and turned toward them.

Eve next to him tensed up and sucked in her breath noisily. Although he wasn't looking directly at her, he could see from the corner of his eye that she was shaking like a leaf.

Every fibre of Ryker's body was tense and fixed on the man standing casually on the wooden floorboards, his hands buried in his trouser pockets.

Part of him wanted to push little Liam into Eve's arms and lunge, growling, at the arsehole standing far away from them as if nothing had happened.

Next to them, Chief stood stock-still, his comb ruffled, and his teeth bared. The growl that lay silent in Ryker's chest rolled unfiltered and boomed over the shepherd's lips. The faithful companion obviously knew he was dealing with a bastard.

It took Ray every effort to stand still and not give in to the impulse that seemed sweet and tempting to him at that moment as Eve's Maple Taffy. He wanted to sprint off. Pounce on him. Make the bastard pay for all this shit.

Standing on the freshly painted floorboards was none other than Dylan, the dirty Traitor himself.