“When I stepped on this property this became my operation. Get your cheap cowboy hat and your steroid-abusing partner out of my way. You’ll be informed on a need-to-know basis.”

A red aura flared around Mason’s vision and his hands tightened into fists. He felt Lusco grab his arms, physically lift him up, and plant him three feet away.

“Callahan.” Ray’s warning tone snapped him out of his rage.

Mason settled for shooting an icy this-isn’t-over-yet glare at the stiff-necked man with the maps. Pattison’s gaze coolly scanned Mason, then dismissed him by turning his back.

“Fucking jarhead. I’m gonna report…”

“Shut up,” Ray barked.

Mason snapped his mouth shut, fuming. He wanted to lay into Ray but settled for looking for Harper. He’d have the nosy bastard cuffed and in the back of a squad car if he dared to show his face around here. Harper could jeopardize everything.

“Where is he?” Mason took another careful inspection of the immediate area, expecting to spot Harper behind a tree. “Get that Harper on the phone before he gets shot by a sniper.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“And get a description of him and what he’s wearing to those snipers.”

Ray silently studied his partner like Mason was about to dash off and take a swing at Pattison. Mason glared back. Satisfied, Ray pulled his uneasy gaze off Mason, whipped out his phone and dialed.

Jack felt his phone vibrate and ignored it. He squatted in the snow, a thick blind of wild rhododendrons protecting him from the chilling wind that slid through the forest. He couldn’t see Alex but knew he was within twenty yards, watching his back. His little flashlight was nearly dead. Its feeble orange light barely lit the ground at his feet. He was exhausted and freezing. He’d barely slept last night and today’d been the worst fucking day of his life. And it wasn’t over yet. His stress level hovered somewhere around the moon. He couldn’t stop thinking about the killer’s offer to trade Lacey. That had to be a bunch of bull. The guy was screwing with their heads. But if he offered to trade Lacey, damn right he was gonna step up.

The snow changed. No longer fluffy flakes, it’d become stinging pellets of ice in the dark. Tiny sharp pins on his cheeks.

Was Lacey cold?

Maybe she’d called…He checked the face of his phone, hoping to see her cell number as the last call. Instead Lusco’s blinked at him, and his heart deflated. Stupid thought. The cops still had her cell from the other night. He didn’t need a secondhand lecture from Lusco and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

He wasn’t going to screw this up. Brody would strangle him. After Jack strangled himself.

Brushing the tiny pellets out of his eyes, he tried to estimate how far he’d come from Alex’s truck. If he was headed in the right direction, the cabin should be another two hundred yards or so. When would he hit the line of police?

Maybe he should’ve taken Lusco’s call.

He hit the callback and watched the signal strength wane in and out.

“Harper?” Lusco sounded tinny. “Where are you?”

Jack aimed his waning flashlight at the rhododendron. “By a big bush.”

“Shit. Stay out of the area. There’re three snipers trained on the cabin. They’ll probably shoot you first and ask questions later.”

“Tell ‘em I’ve got on a brown leather jacket and jeans. And Alex’s wearing a black watch cap, black jacket.”

“There’re two of you?”

“How do you think I got here?”

Lusco ignored the question. “Are you carrying?”

Jack paused too long. “No.” He touched the shoulder holster he’d strapped on before leaving Alex’s truck. He’d also slipped a knife into his boot. Armed for the first time since leaving Lakefield PD. He never thought this day would come; he had a gun in his hand and murder on his mind.

And he was still holding it together.

“Bullshit. Don’t even think of coming near this place. Callahan will bust your ass.”

“I’ll give you thirty seconds to get the descriptions to SWAT before I move.” He closed his phone, doubting he was even within five minutes of the cabin. Especially if the terrain was as rough as he’d already crossed.

“Hang in there, Lacey,” he muttered.

Cursing that he’d forgotten gloves, he rubbed his hands together. Numb fingers would be a bitch if it came to handling a gun. He had a strong feeling he was going need responsive fingers. He scrutinized his nerves. They were holding up OK. The weight of the gun actually made him feel better, not nauseous. He felt like he had a chance.

He stepped out of his cover carefully, scanned the orange light by his feet, and wished he had night vision goggles. The man liked to booby-trap. Jack’s feet held still as his heart pounded in his ears. He needed to watch every step or he might lose his head. Literally.

He hadn’t gone far. Lacey could hear Bobby pacing in the next room. She blinked unsteadily as her vision blurred and doubled. She slowly inhaled and shuddered at the stabs of pain in her chest. Probably fractured ribs from his kicks in the cellar.

She carefully stretched toward the fire, trying not to hurt her ribs. Could she reach a burning piece of wood? Too far away. Her gaze scrambled around for something she could light on fire, use as a weapon when he came near. Or something sharp to cut her ropes, or a mislaid gun to shoot him with.

No luck.