Page 152 of Hard Rain
The sky had been clear the night before.
Not anymore. Now thunderclouds hung overhead, and flashes of lightning lit the sky.
A light drizzle had started, but Whip knew Oregon would soon deliver a hard rain.
Mud sucked at Whip’s boots as he hunkered beside Axel, his weapon gripped tightly.
They’d finally found Charleston, and it wasn’t what any of them had expected.
Rather than an abandoned property, he’d taken over a house with a family inside.
The frantic wife had called the sheriff, who forwarded the recorded call to Boone seconds later.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
“Please…” she whispered. “He’s here.”
“Who is there, ma’am?”
“Oscar…” she whispered. “The man… on the news.”
She choked out her address.
“What happened?”
“He killed my husband.”
“Is he alone?”
“No…” Her breathing hitched. “There are more… more men.”
“Are you hidden?”
“Yes.”
“Are there children in the home?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, ma’am, I have officers on the way. Stay on the line with me—”
A crash sounded over the line and then a scream.
The call disconnected.
The house sat at the end of a long gravel driveway on the outskirts of Summer Lake. It reminded Whip of half the homes he’d driven past growing up. Private without being isolated. Neighbors measured in acres instead of fences.
Two stories rose out of the darkness, faded yellow siding flashing white whenever lightning split the sky.
“I’m cold. Let’s get this fucker,” Axel muttered from beside him.
“I know,” Whip murmured.
Several SWAT officers hunkered down near their location.
All waiting on Boone.
Whip silently agreed and pressed his earpiece. “Team two, in position?”
