“North Raccoon River Wildlife Area,” Jacob read, peering at the map. “One hundred and forty-five acres along the river. Oak and hickory timberlands. There’s limited public access for hunting.” “It’s not hunting season right now.” “No,” Jacob said. “Which means that place will be deserted.” “That’s it.” Noah tapped the map again. Jacob plugged the address into Google Maps. Please, please, be the place. Please don’t let me be wrong. “Nineteen miles,” Jacob said. “US 6 to 169.” Noah slammed the tailgate closed and ran to the driver’s door. “Call Sheriff Clarke. This is his county. Tell him
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