Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
It's the dead of winter, and a killer like no other is turning a small Wisconsin town into a death trap-one that's closing in on Lucas Davenport.
his speed to a near-walking pace. Lucas wiped snow from his face, out of his eyes, drove, watching Climpt’s taillight. Wiped, drove. Getting harder . . . Helper’s track was filling more quickly, the edges obscured, harder to pick out. Four minutes later they were across and back into a sheltered run. Carr: We’re setting up at Jack’s. Where is he? He’s four miles out and closing, but he’s moving slower. How’s it going, Lucas? Lucas, tight from the cold, lifting his brake hand to his face:
Harper’s hold, tried not to breathe. Kill him now . . . Of the people in their group, Harper was the only one who worried him. Harper might do anything. Harper had a craziness, a killer feel about him: scars on his shiny forehead, lumps. And when he was angry, there was nothing calculated about it. He was a nightmare you met in a biker bar, a man who liked to hurt, a man who never stopped to think that he might be the one to get damaged. He worried the Iceman, but didn’t frighten him. He could
speed went up. The shotgun was silent. Weather sat higher, looking out the shattered side window, then out the back. The road was empty. “He’s gone,” she said. Bruun’s chin was almost on the hub of the wheel. “Hold on,” he grated. He hit the brake, but too late. The entrance to the hospital parking lot was not straight in. The entry road went sharply right, specifically to slow incoming traffic. They were there—and they were going much too fast to make the turn. Weather braced herself, locking
there with a roll of duct tape. “Cross your feet,” she said. “You’re gettin’ kinda bossy, ya little cunt,” Harper said. But he crossed his feet. She taped them in a minute. “Now your hands,” she said. Harper looked at the gun, shrugged, and crossed his hands. “Behind you.” “Goddammit.” When he was taped, she stood up and looked at the Iceman. “Got him,” she said. “Go check,” the Iceman said, tipping his head toward the door. “Go a half-mile up the road, both ways.” “What . . .” Harper
can keep up with him, Jesus, this snow is something else, it’s like driving into a funnel . . . He must be doing forty down there in the ditch, he must be flying blind . . . we’re doing thirty . . . Manny, he’ll be coming up on you in five minutes. A second voice, the other FBI man: Got him on the scope . . . Davenport, we’re five minutes out, he’s still coming, he’s maybe two miles back. “Got that,” Lucas said. To Climpt, Weather, and Carr: “Get ready. I’ll talk to the twins.” He ran down the