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Dante looked at him. Morrison shrugged. “If one of the bastards gets close enough, it’ll slow them down and I can take them out. Sorry, I only have one set of NVGs.”
A pair of night vision goggles would have been helpful.
Motioning for the other two to hurry up, Dante led the way. They silently slipped and slid along a soggy path where a sidewalk would have been if the town had installed them. Dante took the lead, then André, and Morrison was a few steps behind them.
It felt right having André by his side. André, who’d been shot at twice since just last night. André, who strode toward peril as if he expected it to bow down before him. If he was nervous, it didn’t show on his face or in his walk. It made Dante curious about what had drawn him to law enforcement. Every LEO had a story. He hoped they got to share theirs.
“Car up,” André said quietly.
Dante peered into the darkness, spotting the same bland, late model sedan André had—possibly the same one Dante had noticed the other day. Streetlights were far and few between on this stretch of street.
The sedan parked across and just down the street from his house wasn’t anything that seemed particularly threatening, but Dante still didn’t recognize it. Maybe that’s why it stood out. With few exceptions, the residents of Cooper Springs drove older cars. Beaters, with rust spots and peeling paint. Cooper Springs was not a rich town; it was a barely surviving one.
“I’ll cut over and check it out,” Morrison murmured.
It never failed to surprise Dante how quiet and invisible Morrison could be when called for.
“Ten-four, big guy,” Dante acknowledged. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Morrison peeled off, a ghost crossing the street, while Dante and André continued toward Dante’s rental. The wind was gusting harder now, blowing rain directly into Dante and André, and he swiped a hand across his face in a vain attempt to clear his vision. Lightning flashed mere seconds later, illuminating the area for just long enough to see the black silhouettes of leafless trees, houses, and the forest beyond.
“Let’s cut through this property.” Dante indicated the yard they were approaching. The house was dark, and no light peeked out around the pulled curtains. Dante knew the owners were snowbirds and had left after Thanksgiving for warmer and dryer climates.
And, yes, he had scoped out the best escape routes from the rental. While the house behind theirs had the same tiny yard, this one was on a double lot. The fence paneling at the back end was loose, and the space between boards was big enough for him and André to squeeze through. Maybe it was a good thing Morrison was checking on the sedan.
His living room lights were blazing. Dante looked away, even though his night vision was already fucked, until his eyes readjusted. For the first time since leaving the station, Dante breathed a little easier. Lights were good. Lights meant the intruders had not made it inside.
With André still at his back, Dante followed the fence to the corner of the neighbor’s property and pulled the boards aside. They were being quiet, but with the storm raging, it probably wouldn’t have mattered if there had been a herd of elephants wandering through the neighborhood.
Dante didn’t have a plan. He had a goal and that was to get to Dani. She was hiding in the basement, in what had once been a food cellar. When he outfitted the safe room, Dante had discovered ancient home-canned fruit and what might have been pickles from back before he’d been born. It was dark and cold in there, but it was as safe as he could make it.
They hesitated in the darkest shadows on the other side of the fence. While Dante appreciated the camouflage of the storm, he wished he could see better.
André touched his arm, pointing at the back of his house.
Squinting, Dante could just make out a dark form coming around the corner opposite them. Confirmation that they hadn’t gotten into the house yet.
His relief was short-lived.
A flash of something shone near the back door that was not lightning or a flashlight.
“What the fuck,” Dante murmured.
“Are they trying to start a fire?” whispered André.
Fuckif that was happening. Dante and André both knew there were flammables that didn’t care about the weather. He started forward, intent on getting there before disaster occurred.
A deafening explosion that outmatched the storm came from the front of the house. The figure stopped what he was doing, glancing around before straightening to his full height, then abandoned his project to dart around the house and run full speed toward the road.
“Get him!” Dante ordered as he raced across the yard to the door.
To his credit, André obeyed. He peeled off, flying after the fleeing shithead and toward the explosion. It took seconds for Dante to reach the back door, where he discovered an abandoned and mostly empty gas can and several wet rags, probably soaked with the liquid. The fabric might not have caught in this weather, but it wasn’t impossible. The thought of Dani caught inside had his hours-ago lunch churning in his stomach.
He should have taken more care, but he was desperate to get to Dani. A sound came from behind him, and Dante looked over his shoulder, thinking it was André or Morrison. It wasn’t. The barrel of a gun was pointed directly at him, held firmly in the grip of a man about ten feet away. A man very comfortable with holding a deadly weapon.
“Putting you down like the pig whore you are, Castone,” said the man. “Hard to miss at this range.” He laughed. “I hate fucking traveling for this shit. You know how it is. Thanks for making it easy and fun for us—just a day trip.”
The killer’s face was almost entirely covered by a balaclava and a dark knit cap was pulled down low over his ears. Only his mouth and dark, flat eyes were exposed. Dante didn’t recognize the voice, but he would never forget it.
