Page 1 of One Final Target

CHAPTER 1

SERGEANT JODIE KING TAPPEDthe butt of her handgun with her index and second fingers, an outward sign of inward anxiousness. She figured when she stopped being anxious about serving a warrant, it was time to do something else. Unease would keep her on her toes.

Adding to the unease—the frigid predawn temp.Coldandfidgetydescribed her team. Everyone was ready to move. Snow had fallen earlier and was threatening again. Jodie checked her team and saw four determined expressions and four spirals of icy breath swirling up into the air.

A beach girl at heart, Jodie felt out of her element in the mountain cold. But the target was here, and they would take him into custody. She and her officers—affectionately called RAT, anacronym for recidivist apprehension team—were staged beside a vacant home, on the west side of the target address. Paramedics were present just in case, and since they weren’t in the city but in the county’s jurisdiction, a deputy sheriff also stood by, monitoring the situation.

“Ready?” she asked.

“You bet, Chief,” Tiny Peters answered first. At six-five and 250pounds, the ex–football player held the universal key, the battering ram they’d use on the door. Convinced Jodie would be chief one day, he never called her sergeant.

Gail Shyler nodded, her cop expression firmly in place.

Tim Evers popped his bubble gum as a way of saying yes.

Gus Perkins gave his trademark thumbs-up.

Of course they were ready. RAT consisted of the best of the best. Jodie would accept nothing less. She ignored the hitch in her thought process that reminded her they were one day early and one man short. Proper planning would compensate for the change. Time to go.

“All right. Let’s do it.”

Jodie moved her people as a unit from the staging van across the neighboring yard to the overgrown, completely unkempt front yard of their target.

She and Gus trotted to the left side of the door. Tiny stepped to the right side. Shyler and Evers were the entry pair.

Tiny gave the announcement. “Norman Hayes, Long Beach PD. We have a warrant. Open the door.” He repeated the phrase twice more.

No response. One practiced swing and the door splintered apart, leaving a gaping opening.

Shyler and Evers, weapons at the ready, moved in first, goingleft. Jodie and Gus were directly behind them, moving right. In short order, the efficient twosomes cleared the small two-bedroom, one-bath mountain cabin.

Jodie took a breath as disappointment hit like a punch. This was supposed to be a sure thing. Norman Hayes had two felony warrants out of Long Beach and numerous connections here in San Bernardino. Besides her confidential informant, the sheriff’s office had confirmed Hayes was living in the house.

Holstering her weapon, Jodie surveyed the living room, conscious of a few odd things: the smell of fresh paint, the warmth of the room from a heater, and the neat and tidy nature of the inside. While the outside of the house was obviously neglected, the living room was decidedly minimalist and even cozy.

“See what you can find. I can’t believe Jukebox was so completely off.”

“I don’t know why you have so much faith in Juke,” Gus said as he walked into the kitchen. “He’s too many fries short of a Happy Meal.”

“But he’s from here and he hears things.” Jodie frowned as she looked at the cozy room. “Someone has been living here. And recently.” Glancing at Gus, she saw dismay on his face. “What do you see?”

“Coffee is warm.”

“Shower is wet,” Shyler called from the bathroom.

Tiny stopped his progress toward the back of the house, cocking his head, listening. He and Jodie both circled back and ended up at the front door.

Jodie put her hand on her service weapon. “He must still be here. What did we miss?” She looked up, wondering about an attic.

A loud click sounded in the kitchen, like a big switch being pulled. This was followed by a hissing of released air or gas.

Gus looked down at his feet, then raised his head, eyes wide. Jodie turned toward Tiny and saw a look of absolute horror on his face.

“It’s a trap! Everyone out!” Tiny grabbed Jodie by the shoulders. She resisted, wanting more of an explanation. In a split second, he physically lifted her up and carried her out the door.

“What—?” The question died in her throat as Tiny literally threw her into the yard.

“Get clear,” he yelled as he strode back into the house, calling for Gail and Tim to get out.

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