Lethal Force by Trevor Scott Page A

mind was preoccupied by the events of the past few days and what he had to do now.
    It took them just fifteen minutes to find the old farm house a few miles outside of Whitefish. It sat on a small knoll at the end of a quarter-mile long driveway. Darkness was now starting to really shroud the countryside.
    Parking out on the road among a patch of pines, Jake shut down the vehicle and looked at Lori. “When I get out, get behind the wheel. If I don’t call you in fifteen minutes, you get the hell out of here and drive back into town to the police station. Understand?”
    She nodded her head. “Will you be all right?”
    â€œYeah, it’s what I do.” Or what he used to do. He pulled out his 9mm Glock and cycled a round into the chamber. With the three magazines he had fifty-one rounds to get the job done. More than enough, he thought.
    He got out and she immediately took his warm spot on the leather driver’s seat. “Don’t touch the brakes,” he said. “If you have to warm up, just crank it over and let the heater work.” Then he gently closed the door without much sound and shuffled off through the snow on the country road.
    Jake would have a tough time approaching the house without being noticed. Even with the darkness and snow falling, if the man looked out the window down the long drive, he would see Jake coming. The only other way was through a forested area to the north. But with the deep snow that would take too long.
    He had to chance a direct approach. The faster the better. He picked up the pace from a long stride to an all-out run. As he got closer to the house, he saw a light on in the front room and a shadow pass by the window. Jake vectored toward the left side of the house alongside the front covered porch and settled up against the weathered white siding to catch his breath. If his intel was right, there was only one bad guy inside, the killer and kidnapper. But he also knew that some time had passed since he had last gotten a thermal reading.
    No new vehicle tracks in the driveway. Which didn’t mean a lot in this heavy snowfall. Any tracks would be covered in a few minutes.
    Jake slid along the house toward the back. He came to a basement window that was covered by snow. Scooping his hand through the cold white stuff, he couldn’t see any lights on in the basement.
    Continuing to the back, he peered around the corner of the house, his gun aimed down against his right leg to keep moisture out of the barrel.
    From the back he had to move out into the yard somewhat to try to see into the house as he moved toward the center of the house, the snow back there up to his knees.
    Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a figure move across the light in what looked like the kitchen. The man was there and then not there. Like a ghost.
    He took a couple more steps and then tripped over something, landing on his side in the snow. Luckily he had raised his gun up and kept it from getting wet.
    Jake reached over to feel what he’d tripped on, and immediately felt a body. He slid his hand down and realized it was frozen solid. A woman. He moved around so the light shone out onto the body and saw that something had eaten the eyes and worked on the belly. Rodents, ravens or jays. Maybe a fox or coyote. Checking his watch, he had to hurry or his ride would be gone soon.
    He shifted behind a tree, found his phone, and texted a message to Lori to give him another ten minutes.
    Now he needed to hurry and make this happen.
    He got upright, assessed the back door, and moved straight at it. Chances are it would be unlocked.
    Quietly he turned the knob. It was open, so he slipped inside and stopped. His wet shoes would surely squeak on the linoleum floor. But if he could get to the carpet in the living room he would be all right. He put most of his weight on the outer edge of his boots and with little noise made his way toward the lighted living room.
    A rush of