Chapter 4 - The Cabin in the SnowMy heart slammed against my ribs.
"Alpha Team, report! Report!" Santos shouted into her radio headset, her face draining of color.
For three agonizing seconds, there was only static and the howling wind. Then Keller’s voice broke through the speaker, breathless and sharp.
"Suspect is firing from an upper-window position! We've got a rifle! Hold your fire, he’s barricaded inside! Repeat, do not breach yet!"
Without thinking, I pushed open the passenger door of the SUV and stepped out into the freezing snow.
"Mr. Kane, get back in the vehicle!" Santos yelled over the wind.
"No!" I shouted back, grabbing my heavy winter parka from the back seat. "That bastard put my daughter in the hospital and nearly killed my grandson. I’m not sitting in a car while my family's nightmare comes to an end!"
Before she could argue, I slammed the door and began jogging up the snow-packed logging road toward the cabin, following the shadowy outlines of the state troopers stationed along the tree line.
The Huxley hunting cabin was a dilapidated structure built of rough-hewn pine logs, glowing with the faint, flickering amber light of a wood-burning stove inside. A cloud of black smoke billowed from the stone chimney, mixing with the swirling snowflakes.
I crept up behind a massive Douglas fir tree where Keller was crouched, holding an assault rifle across his chest, peering through thermal-imaging binoculars.
"What's the situation?" I whispered, my teeth chattering from the biting cold.
Keller glanced sideways, looking annoyed, but didn't push me back. "He’s got a high-powered hunting rifle with a scope. He’s panicked, Harry. He knows we found him, and he knows Timmons flipped. He's cornered like a rabid animal."
"He doesn't have a way out," I said, scanning the perimeter. "The back leads straight down a sheer rock cliff. Unless he has wings, he’s trapped."
"That's what we're banking on," Keller muttered into his radio. "Tears are coming. We're going to gas the place."
"Wait," I said, grabbing Keller’s sleeve. "Let me talk to him first."
Keller stared at me as if I had lost my mind. "Are you out of your damn mind? He'll shoot you on sight!"
"Maybe. But he knows me. And more importantly, he knows I have nothing left to lose. If he comes out shooting, your men take him down clean. But if I can rattle him enough to make him drop that rifle, nobody else has to die tonight."
Keller hesitated, weighing the risk. Then he nodded slowly. "You've got two minutes, Harry. If he raises that barrel an inch, my snipers take the shot. Understood?"
"Understood."
I stepped out from behind the trunk of the massive pine tree, leaving my hands visible in the open air. I walked up the snowy incline toward the front porch of the cabin, the crunch of my boots sounding terrifyingly loud in the silent forest.
"Trent!" I called out, my voice cutting through the wind. "Trent Huxley, I know you can hear me!"
A second later, the heavy wooden front door of the cabin jerked open.
Trent stood in the doorway, illuminated by the firelight behind him. He looked ragged, his face unshaven, his eyes wild and bloodshot, clutching a Remington bolt-action rifle against his chest like a drowning man holding a life preserver.
"Get back, Harry!" Trent screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria. "I swear to God, I'll put a bullet right between your eyes! You ruined my life! You and that damn state investigator!"
"I ruined your life?" I walked another ten paces closer, stopping near the base of the wooden porch steps. "You beat my pregnant daughter half to death, Trent. You left a six-year-old child to watch her mother bleed on a kitchen floor. And you thought you could buy your way out of it with a corrupt deputy's help?"
"He was supposed to protect me!" Trent sobbed, his grip on the rifle trembling violently. "Everything I built... it's all gone! Timmons is locked up, my accounts are frozen, and the cops are everywhere!"
"It's over, Trent," I said calmly, taking another step up the stairs. "Drop the rifle. Come out with your hands on your head. It's the only way you see your son grow up—even if it's from behind glass."
"My son?" A manic, desperate laugh escaped Trent's lips. "I don't care about that brat! I don't care about Cassidy! All I wanted was out!"
He raised the barrel of the rifle, leveling it directly at my chest.
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In that fraction of a second, time seemed to slow down. I could hear the wind hissing through the pines. I could see the white puff of Trent's breath in the freezing air. I could see the absolute, irredeemable madness in his eyes.
He pulled the trigger.
