Page 29 of Hard Rain

Grady just shook his head like he’d heard worse from Axel before.

Whip hid a grin behind his coffee.

Outside, storm clouds settled heavier over Paisley while Grady started gathering maps into uneven stacks for the morning search.

Cutter knew the land.

Knew the roads.

And somewhere out there beyond the storm and dark ranch country surrounding Paisley, Cutter was making the area work for him.

Sooner or later, Cutter was going to make a mistake.

And when that happened?

He was going to slap the cuffs on the child rapist and make sure he spent the rest of his life in a deep, dark hole.

Beside him, Axel flipped the case file shut with a tired sigh.

“Let’s call it.”

Axel was right. They’d squeezed everything they could out of it. Sitting here going over the same information wouldn’t get them anywhere closer to Cutter.

“Agreed,” he said, tossing the file he held onto the table.

Axel tossed the empty jerky bag toward the trash and missed by nearly a foot.

“You owe me some jerky.”

“Do not.”

“Yes, you do. I didn’t get one piece, as usual.”

“Don’t start,” Axel grumbled.

Whip grinned.

He was absolutely going to start.

PRESSURE POINT

The stop-and-go gas glowed against the storm like the only warm place left in Oregon.

Whip pulled the task force SUV beneath the canopy.

Axel glanced at the fuel gauge. “We’re still half full.”

Whip shifted into park and killed the engine. “Need to top it off.”

Axel snorted and leaned his head back against the seat. “You were definitely a Boy Scout.”

Whip looked over slowly. “Special Forces, remember?”

Axel glanced down toward his own dark ink disappearing beneath the sleeve of his jacket before snorting softly. “Yeah. You and every other paranoid psychopath with a go-bag.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Rain pounded hard against the canopy overhead while both of them stared out through the windshield at the deluge flooding the parking lot.