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The team's convoy approached the edge of the woods, the fading light casting long shadows over the twisted trees and muddy paths. Spencer's heart raced as he scanned the surroundings, desperate to catch any clue that might lead them to Harper.
"Stay sharp," Hotch instructed, his voice steady but laced with tension. They all knew time was running out.
Spencer moved ahead, his gaze meticulously scanning every inch of the environment. Despite the anxiety gnawing at him, he forced himself to focus, his mind zeroing in on details. Somewhere in the vast wilderness, Harper was waiting for him. He swallowed hard.
They crossed a muddy stretch in the clearing, two pairs of footprints evident in the soft earth. But as Spencer's eyes traced the impressions in the dirt, his breath caught. The smaller pair, fainter but unmistakeable bore a familiar pattern.
The swirls, it's unique pattern – was identical to her Mary-Jane's that he'd studied as she slept just the other day. "She was here," he said, his voice strained but certain.
"These are Harper's footprints."
Morgan and Rossi turned to him; their eyes surprised as they looked down. Morgan crouched to examine them, nodding in agreement, "They lead toward that clearing up ahead."
Spencer didn't wait for further confirmation, adrenaline surging through him, propelling him forward. His mind ran through every piece of evidence, every detail he could cling to. He could practically hear Harper's voice, feel her presence. She was close.
The path ahead opened into a clearing, revealing a dilapidated stone house, half-hidden by overgrown ivy and surrounded by tries that loomed silently.
Spencer's feet carried him forward of their own accord, his focus narrowing to the entrance. His pulse pounded in his ears as he caught sight of faint tracks leading to the back entrance. He clenched his jaw, the urgency within him burning hotter with each step.
