body language. And he was indeed worried. Even if the killer didn’t attack, all of this stress couldn’t be good for Addie and the baby.
The moments crawled by. Turning into minutes. Still no sign of the Moonlight Strangler. No sign of his friends or Jericho, either.
But Weston sensed something.
Exactly what, he wasn’t sure, but he felt the knot tighten in his gut. Felt that warning slide down his spine. A warning that’d saved his butt a time or two. And that’s why he ducked back from the window.
Not a second too soon.
The bullet crashed through the glass in the exact spot where Weston had just been standing.
He’d braced himself for an attack, of course, but Weston doubted anyone could brace themselves for the roaring blast from the shot and the instant surge of adrenaline through their body.
“Stay down!” he warned Addie and her mother. He hoped the ranch hands were doing the same thing.
A second shot came. Then another.
Both went through what was left of the window and slammed into the wall behind him. They also helped him pinpoint the location of the shooter. All three shots had come from the area around the barn nearest the house.
The killer was way too close.
Not as close as he’d been when he had murdered Collette and left Weston for dead, but it was the first time Weston had been in a position to get a glimpse of him since that fateful night.
The rage roared through him. Not a good mix with the adrenaline and other things he was feeling, but Weston refused to let this snake go after anyone else. Especially Addie.
“Are there any ranch hands in the barn out there?” Weston tipped his head in that direction.
“There shouldn’t be,” Addie answered.
Good. That’d be fewer targets for this idiot to try to kill. And the man was definitely trying to kill them. Weston had no doubts about that as even more bullets crashed through the window.
It was always unnerving to have shots fired, but it didn’t help that knot in his stomach when the killer stopped shooting.
Did that mean he was on the move?
Probably. Because it was too much to hope that he’d run out of ammunition.
Weston ducked and hurried to the other side of the window. It was a better vantage point if the shooter was headed to the back of the house, but Weston still didn’t see anything.
Not at first anyway.
Finally, the Christmas lights flickered over a shadowy spot by one of the trucks parked between the house and the barn. Yeah, someone was definitely there.
Weston took aim and fired.
And he got confirmation of the guy’s location when he saw him scramble behind the truck. He also got another confirmation he’d been waiting for—the sound of sirens from a police cruiser. Jericho, no doubt.
But Weston obviously wasn’t the only one who knew that backup was about to arrive. He saw the shooter dart out from the back of the truck. And the man took off running.
Hell.
Weston didn’t want this monster to get away, and that’s exactly what would happen if he waited for Jericho. It’d be a minute or more before Addie’s brother could stop the cruiser and get into place.
A minute the killer would use to escape.
It was a risk. A huge one. Anything Weston did at this point would be.
He fired a glance at Addie. “Text Jericho and tell him where you are. Then stay down and shoot anyone who tries to come in through this window.” He also tossed her his phone. “Text the first contact in there and let him know I’m out of the house.”
She was shaking her head before he even finished. “You can’t go out there,” Addie insisted.
“I can’t let him get away,” he insisted right back. He knocked out the rest of the shards of glass from the window.
Weston wished he had the time to convince her that this was the only way, but he didn’t. With Jericho so close now, he’d be able to protect Addie and their mother. But just in case the killer doubled back and tried to come through the window, Weston kept watch around him.
And he started running the moment his feet hit the ground.
For one thing, he wanted to get out of the line of fire in case Jericho mistook him for the killer. For another, he wanted to make up the distance between him and the guy he could see running flat-out ahead of him.
Weston could also see something else thanks to the Christmas lights.
The guy was dressed all in black and was wearing a ski mask, and he wasn’t running in a straight line. He was darting in and out of whatever he could use for cover. In addition to a gun, he was also carrying something else.
Something that he tossed onto the ground after glancing back over his shoulder at Weston.
Weston darted around whatever he’d tossed, hoping like the devil that it wasn’t a bomb or explosive device, but it wasn’t.
It appeared to be a thermal scanner like the one Dave and Cliff had been using.
That was probably why the killer had managed to pinpoint them so quickly in the house. After all, he hadn’t fired any shots except right into the office, where they’d been hiding.
Behind him, Weston could hear the cruiser approaching, and the slashing blue lights blended with those from the Christmas decorations. It didn’t create the best setup for spotting a killer since it was playing havoc with his vision. But Weston kept on running. Kept looking over his shoulder to make sure this snake didn’t have a partner who was trying to go after Addie.
The killer scurried out of cover, headed toward a second barn. Weston wasn’t sure if there were vehicles inside or not, but he didn’t want to chance it.
Weston stopped. And he took aim.
He didn’t aim for the guy’s head. Something he desperately wanted to do. Especially with all the rage he was feeling. He could avenge Collette’s death right here, right now. No judge, no jury.
Just one executioner with really good aim.
However, if Weston did that, he wouldn’t get answers, and there were a lot of families out there looking for missing loved ones that this piece of dirt could have murdered. Besides, Weston wanted to look this killer in the eyes and make him answer for what he’d done.
Weston fired.
The shot went exactly where he’d intended it to go. In the killer’s right shoulder. It worked because the guy tumbled onto the ground.
“Move and the next bullets go in your kneecaps,” Weston warned him.
Weston wasted no time going after him, and it wasn’t long before he got close enough to see the killer’s face. Or rather the ski mask he was wearing. He was bleeding, clutching his shoulder with his left hand.
But not his right.
Despite the injury, he was reaching for his gun that had fallen just inches away from him.
“You really want to die tonight?” Weston warned him, and he aimed his gun right at the killer’s head.
The killer did move, though, but only to lift both his hands. Weston hurried to kick the gun aside so that the guy couldn’t change his mind and reach for it.
Then, Weston did some reaching of his own.
He had to see the killer’s face. Had to stare down the man who’d murdered Collette. He ripped off the ski mask, and he got a good look at him all right.
Weston cursed.
No.