Page 147 of One Last Stand

Silence.

They’d turned off the highway, toward Moose’s place.

“So they’d know all about gas lines?” Boo said. “Right?”

“Maybe,” Flynn said. “I checked and there’s no record of Benton or Grant leaving Alaska after the trial. They did check out of their hotel two days later, but their rental car hasn’t been turned back in. . . .”

“So they could still be in Alaska?” said Boo.

“Starting gas fires?” London added.

“Dawson put out a BOLO on the car and the men,” Flynn said. “The rental is a Kia Sorrento and has Washington State plates.”

“Like that one?” Boo said, and Tillie touched her brakes. The car sat on the side of the road, dark and lightly dusted with snow, as if it had been sitting for a while.

Tillie slowed and then pulled up in front of it. Flynn got out and shone her light on the plates, came back, her expression haunted. “The plates say Montana, so it might not be them.”

“Or they changed the plates,” London said.

“How far are we from Moose’s place?” Boo asked.

“Maybe a quarter mile,” London said, her mind on her own not-too-distant hike through the woods. She reached for the door handle. “I’m getting out. Just in case.”

“I’ll go with you,” Flynn said. She turned to Tillie. “Maybe it’s nothing. But watch yourselves, ladies. We’ll meet you at the house.”

Tillie pulled away, and London shoved her gloved hands into her pockets. “Are we overreacting?”

“Dunno,” said Flynn. “I came from work, so . . .” She opened her jacket, revealing where she wore a shoulder holster, her issued Glock tucked away.

“Let’s hope you don’t have to use that,” London said. “I’d suggest we use our cell phone lights, but I don’t want them to see us coming. We’ll have to go by starlight.” Moonlight shone through the trees, upon the glistening snow. Tillie’s taillights had disappeared, probably down Moose’s driveway.

“We’ll take the drive in, then cut around to the back of the house, see if we can see anything through the back windows.” She took off toward the driveway at a light run.

The motion-sensor lights had flickered on, a couple of them fading to dark with the passing of the SUV.

“Let’s get off the drive,” she said, and they cut a path at the edge of the trees, down to the house.

“I texted Axel on our drive up, but he didn’t answer,” Flynn said now.

Their feet crunched through the snow, faster now as London picked up her pace despite the deep snow. Flynn followed her, and they skirted the edge of the forest all the way along the property line of Moose’s place. His house rose large and impressive in the night, dark save for the light streaming from the basement walkout sliding door.

“The guys said they were going to watch the hockey game,” said Flynn quietly.

London grabbed her arm. “Let’s just . . . take a look.” She kept low, running from one stand of trees to the next, then finally hunkering down beside the woodshed.

From here, she got a good view of the horror inside.

“Is that Benton?” asked Flynn.

“Yeah, I think so.” London blew out a breath at the sight of Moose and Axel on the floor, two men standing near them, holding weapons. “Call Tillie, tell her not to go in.”

Except, too late, because Tillie and Boo came down the stairs.

Oh no.

Tillie put her hands up, and Boo ran over to someone—ah, Oaken on the floor too.

Moose was shouting, making a ruckus.

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