Tuesday Teaser 3/17/2026

3/17/2026

“Griff, come on, Inspector. We have to get back.” Candice had him by the foot and was shaking it. “We’ve got a potential hit.”

Griff rubbed his face. The haze cleared at the words “potential hit,” and he was up and moving across the room in seconds. “Clint? Is he okay?” He looked out the window. Where there had been dark sky and streetlights when he laid down, now long, thick clouds dotted a lightening pink-and-gold sky.

“Jim just called and said to get to the office. There was a possible sighting, but that’s all I know.”

They hurried back to the US Marshals’ headquarters. Liam met them, and they reconvened in the conference room.

“What do we have?” Liam asked. Griff noticed immediately that Liam was wearing fresh clothes and his hair was damp. Jim wore the same clothes he’d been wearing when Griff left. He’d been the one to stay behind this time; they’d man the office in shifts until they had to go into the field or Clint was otherwise found.

“Small town on the Minnesota-South Dakota border, just off I-90, police spotted a blue van that looked like someone had spray painted it with regular paint. A passenger was acting—” Jim stopped reading and looked up from the laptop he used. He flicked at it and continued. “—oddly. They got a call, a three-vehicle accident with fatalities, and had to leave, couldn’t investigate. However, one of them took pictures.”

“Gotta love dash cams and cell phones,” Griff said.

“They did run the van’s plates later,” Jim said.

“Let me guess: stolen?” Candice asked.

Jim nodded. “These were from Illinois. Hatchet seems to be leaving a trail of stolen plates. He’s probably got more stashed in that van.” He turned the laptop around so Griff could see the screen. “There’s the picture. They said the guy in the front seat kept ducking down.”

Griff leaned over and studied the picture. He poked at the keyboard and was able to move through three pictures in all, sucking in a sharp breath when he came to the final picture. “That’s Clint.” The image was clear, and Clint was looking directly at the camera. “No clear image of the driver?”

Jim shook his head. “No. A second man was gassing up the van, but they couldn’t get a clear shot of him.”

“It doesn’t matter. Either it’s Dylan Hatchet, which is my guess, or it’s someone else. Whoever that is has Clint and they’re traveling in a van we know is associated with Dylan. Where the hell is he taking Clint?” Liam asked.

“Clint and I have gone to the Black Hills and the Badlands. There’s a ton of campgrounds and wilderness areas you’d use I-90 to travel to. It’s a helluva big piece of real estate.” The hope Griff felt at seeing Clint alive in a picture taken eight hours before sank with the realization they were no closer now than a day ago.