Page 44 of Let Her Live

Jake's instincts shocked him to life. He spun around, gun pointed into the darkness behind them—only to see a deranged-looking man standing there with a butcher knife in hand.

He wore a deep scowl. He was an older man, white, with aging skin and eyes that were so light and blue they looked soulless. He wore hunting gear and camo pants, and he looked at them with pure malice.

"What the hell are you doing on my property?"

"Frank Barber," Jake said, pointing his gun at him and standing in front of Fiona, "drop the weapon, now. We're with the FBI. You're under arrest."

"For what?" He let out a low laugh. "I've got my hunting license. No law against killing a gator like this."

"And leaving it to rot in your house?" Jake said. "This is sick, Frank. I need you to drop the weapon now."

"The hell I will," Frank said, his voice rising to a yell.

The knife slashed through the air, and Jake barely had enough time to duck out of the way. Frank's hand flew through the space he had occupied mere moments before, and Jake took aim at his leg and pulled the trigger of his gun, but the bullet went wild, and Frank let out another laugh.

"You're just wasting bullets," he said. "I'm going to gut you like a pig."

He slashed at Jake with the knife, and Jake managed to dodge the blade. The table in the middle of the room was between them, and he was using it as a barrier. Jake's heart was racing a mile an hour, but he was still holding his gun, and he wouldn't give up.

"Get back, Fiona," Jake yelled as he tried to line up a shot. She'd retreated to the hallway, and his attention was split between her and Frank, who was advancing on him slowly, knife raised.

"Jake!" Fiona shouted.

Frank showed no fear, no care if he was shot dead right then and there—the most dangerous kind of killer. He didn't even care about his own life. Jake could do it, shoot him dead right there, but no—he needed him alive. He needed him to pay for what he'd done.

Jake took aim at Frank's leg again—and this time, he didn't miss. The bullet fired off, resounding loudly through the small trailer.

Frank let out a strangled scream and fell to the ground, clutching his bloody thigh. The knife hit the floor with a clatter, and he gripped his leg, even as the blood pumped out.

Jake took the opportunity to approach Frank and hold the gun at his head, warning him not to move.

"Call for backup, Fiona!" Jake called.

"On it," she called, nearly out of sight now.

Jake knelt over Frank and pulled out his cuffs, twisting his arms behind his back. Frank laughed like a maniac as he was cuffed, his hands now safely bound.

"You're not going to get away with this," Jake said, leaning down to speak directly into Frank's ear. "Prison isn't going to be enough for what you've done. You're sick."

"You're going to die," Frank said, laughing. "You're gonna squeal, boy, sooner than later. Maybe it won't be me, but someone's gonna do you in. I promise you that."

Jake's skin crawled at Frank's words. Normally, he wouldn't give a deranged psychopath a second thought, but something about his voice sent a shiver up his spine. He'd always known he'd die someday, potentially in the line of duty—potentially at any time. There were no guarantees he'd grow old. This was the job he'd chosen.

"Shut up," he said to Frank, his emotions getting the best of him.

Frank only laughed. His strained cackle made Jake's blood burn. But it didn't matter now. They had him, and he'd pay for what he'd done.

***

Jake stared down Frank Barber as he sat across from him in the interrogation room. He could hardly believe how vile the man was—now that he'd been caught, he'd gone completely off the rails. The man disturbed even him, and he found himself grateful that Fiona was at his side to add calm energy to the otherwise chaotic room.

Plus, now that he could see Frank in the light, Jake was fairly certain the man was on something. His pupils were dilated, and he spoke with quick and erratic bursts of energy.

"Tell me why you did it, Frank," Jake said. "This is clearly about more than Samuel Stone."

"Samuel Stone is a goddamn thief," Frank said. "He's lucky that gator was the one I chose to cut up, and not him!"

"So you confess to wanting to hurt Samuel," Jake said.

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