CHAPTER THIRTY
Riley’s expectations rose as she trudged along after Sergeant Matthews on their way into the hills nearest the field where Private Barton had died. Bill, Lucy, and Col. Larson followed close behind. Matthews was using his GPS to find the exact position of the morning’s fleeting heat signal.
The group made their way upward through rough, scrubby terrain. These hills were steeper and higher than the spot from which the killer had shot Sergeant Worthing, and there was no path to mark the way.
As they approached a promontory, Matthews came to a stop. He checked his computer pad and then pointed to the ground.
“The heat signature was exactly here,” he said. “The searchers said it was just a blip, obviously an animal that ran off as soon as it was spotted.
Riley looked around
