Already Gone (A Laura Frost FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1) by Blake Pierce (notion reading list .txt) 📗

She glanced to her side, where herpartner was watching on with grim silence, his eyes trained on the special agentin charge. Most of the agents were also turning their eyes that way, waitingfor the go-ahead. The silence from inside the house was eerie.

Biting her lip, Laura tucked a loosestrand of her blonde hair behind her ear as it threatened to stir in thebreeze. She felt like there were ants crawling under her skin, the anticipationalmost too much. There was so much at stake. If they didn’t do this right, theman who had kidnapped the governor’s daughter would have time to do someserious damage.

She was glad she didn’t have theresponsibility of being the one to decide when and how to storm the building—butat the same time, she itched at the lack of control. She had been on dozens ofraids over her career, but never where a child’s life hung in the balance likethis.

“The longer we wait, the more risk hesees us,” Nate hissed under his breath, only audible to her. Laura noddedalmost imperceptibly. The kidnapper was almost certainly armed. How long werethey going to give him before they went in?

Nate shifted restlessly beside her, andshe glanced up at him instinctively. Nathaniel Lavoie, her partner of severalyears at the FBI, was not good at operations that required secrecy. His six-foot-twoframe stood out in the average crowd, towering over her. She stood level withhis shoulders, which were currently tense and corded, his muscles all flexed inreadiness. A bead of sweat stood out here and there on his black skin, but hewas all focus, his sharp brown eyes fixed on the house. That put her at ease,knowing he was just as alert as she was. Laura took a deep breath to try tosteady herself, concentrating on watching for a hand signal.

When she looked back at the special agentin charge, a flare of alarm went through her. He was holding up a megaphone. No—surelythis wasn’t right? There weren’t enough agents on the ground yet. They werestill waiting for backup. If they had to go in, Laura thought the better optionwould be to storm the place, not give him any time to react. If they gave awaythe element of surprise, the kidnapper could end up seriously hurting the kid…

Or just coming out with his hands up,Laura reminded herself. Her heart was beating hard and painfully in her chest.She kept picturing her own daughter, Lacey, with a gun to her head, in spite ofher determination not to. Lacey was about the same age as the governor’sdaughter, who was around five years old. Not that Laura was entirely sure thepicture in her head was accurate. They grew fast at this age. Would Lacey lookdifferent since the last time Laura had been able to see her? The pang of painthat hit directly in the center of her chest was so sharp Laura had to swallowhard. She breathed the fresh country air deeply, trying to steady herselfagain. Now was not the time to allow in the heartache that came with thoughtsof missing her daughter’s life.

“This is the FBI!” The voice blaringthrough the megaphone made Laura jump, and she immediately refocused an intensegaze on the house. On the side door that she and Nathaniel had been assigned tocover. “Come out now with your hands up. You’re surrounded!”

There was silence. No movement. Lauraresisted the urge to move, to shift her weight to the other foot. She glancedout the side of her eye briefly to see her superior lifting the megaphoneagain. Something throbbed between her eyes. A distant pain.

No. Not now. Laura tensed her jaw,trying to hold off the vision. Not now, when they were all relying on her tocover the side door. If the kidnapper came out that way and she wasn’t on theball, and he got past them, if Nathaniel couldn’t cover him alone, if the childdied because she was out of it, Laura would never be able to forgive herself.

The pain intensified rapidly, likesomething exploding inside her forehead. No. Laura tried to hold on just alittle bit longer.

“This—”

The pain was suddenly gone, along withher vision and hearing.

Laura saw the killer driving his caralong a narrow country lane, between overgrown fields on either side of thecracked concrete. Her view was grainy, distorted, like she was looking througha window smeared with dust and dotted with raindrops. She was floating abovehim. He had a pinched look to his face, his hands gripping the steering wheelso tight his knuckles stood out white. He looked up ahead, and Laura saw whathe saw: the farmhouse rising out of the fields in front of him, the roof andthen the windows of the upstairs, the walls…

And the agents, milling around in theirdark blue windbreakers. Moving in and out of the house. Shaking their heads andgesturing. The sun glinting off a radio.

The killer hit the brakes hard, thentwisted and put his arm around the back of the passenger seat. He floored theaccelerator in reverse, the engine revving up noisily as he threw the carbackwards as fast as he could. Laura heard the pant and whine of his panickedbreath like it was right in her ear as he reversed all the way to the lastturning, sweat running in beads from his forehead. He looked forward again forjust one glance, saw that nothing had changed. No one was racing down the laneafter him. There was no noise, no flash of light.

He swung the car around in the turning,completing a ragged circle and then firing the car in the direction he’d comefrom, raising only a brief puff of dust from the back tires before he was gone.Laura felt it hit her face, smelled the burning rubber.

She blinked and found herself inside thecar. Alone in the front seat, the man laughed in disbelief, then focused ondriving again. He’d gotten away. One moment more of inattention and they’d havebeen able to take him in. But he was free.

And Laura knew they were never going toget a second chance to stop him.

Laura gasped, blinking hard against thetoo-bright sun as her