Page 52 of Shadow of Fear
He continued forward, silently, as a cool breeze drifted over him. He wished it were strong enough to clear the air. He reached a narrow, rutted service road that his neighbor used for logging and took a step toward it. If he took the road, he could jog ahead faster and find his prey. But he would be too exposed out there. He slipped back into the shadows to take a parallel route.
He reached what he thought was nearing a mile. The drone had to have an extended range, or Dev was on the wrong trail. He rounded a bend.
A battered brown pickup truck had been backed onto the property. He’d never seen his neighbor drive this truck. Had to belong to someone else. Now he was getting somewhere.
A twig snapped ahead. Movement in the scrub. Not an animal. A human at last. Tall. Six feet or more, and thinly built. His hands clutched an electronic controller as he spun to look at the area where the twig had broken.
Yes!The operator. The man Dev was seeking.
Go. Now. Bring him down.
No. Slow your roll and think.
Dev filled his lungs with tainted air and backed away deeper into the woods to watch.
“Drone took a dive but is back up hovering now,” Micha said over the earpiece.
“I have the operator in sight,” Dev whispered into his mic. “A noise startled him, and he spun, likely losing control of the drone.”
“Roger that.”
Dev took in additional details of their operator, looking for a weapon. He was dressed in black from head to toe, including a stocking cap, and he tapped his foot on the leaf litter surrounding him. Light from the controller bathed his face. Too bad he was facing away from Dev. He couldn’t make out his identity, but it didn’t look like he was carrying.
Dev would have to take this guy down to stop the drone. He’d love to have Micha shoot it down or use radio frequency jammers to jam the signal, but both were illegal, even when a drone invaded your privacy and was spying on you. Dev didn’t plan on facing federal charges when he could apprehend the man.
He would distract the operator again by throwing a stick into the scrub next to him. Then he would charge. Tackle him. Disarm him if necessary and bring him in.
He listened. Waited until the adrenaline pumping rapidly through his body was under control. Counted to ten. Took a deep breath.
It’s go time.
He chose a large branch. Heaved it hard. The wood took its own course and flew through the air, spiraling over the operator’s head. Not exactly where Dev had planned for it to land, but it startled the man nonetheless.
“What in the world?” He spun, lowering the controller and ignoring the drone.
At this distance, Dev couldn’t hear the drone, but he could imagine the device losing direction and plummeting to earth. A crash that wouldn’t be heard from very far away, but the drone would be disabled, and Dev’s team could legitimately recover it.
He bolted from his cover. The operator took one look at him, threw the controller to the ground, and ran for the pickup.
Dev took off, ignoring everything around him, his focus pinned to the moving man. Racing. Running.
At top speed, the operator was wiry and quick. Dev outweighed him and was less agile. Slower. He muttered frustrations under his breath. Didn’t help. The operator gained on the vehicle. Dev fell further behind. He dug deep to increase speed. He couldn’t let this guy get away. He just couldn’t.
A small animal lurched out from the side shrubs. Brushed against the operator’s legs. Dev could finally make out the animal. A small white dog, barking and yapping, nipping at the operator’s pants.
Please. Please let the dog trip him.
The operator gave the dog a swift kick. He yelped and backed off, then resumed barking from a distance in tiny little yips. Dev caught sight of the dog’s face. Black circles ringed eyes in an otherwise white coat.
Reid’s dog, Bandit. What in the world was he doing out here alone at night?
Didn’t matter at the moment. Dev had an operator to apprehend.
He picked up his speed. His lungs screamed for air. He lunged forward. Nearly lost his footing and barely managed to right himself before he faceplanted. The man dove into the truck and got it going. The old engine’s rumble sounded louder than a rifle crack at close range, announcing that his suspect was getting away. Taunting him with the rumble. Chastising him for being so slow. For failing.
The guy floored the gas and fishtailed on the rutted road.
Dev lunged for the vehicle. Missed the bumper by mere inches and faceplanted. He’d failed. All he had was dirty clothes, a wheezing chest, and the sooty air to breathe. He sucked it in. Sooty or not, he needed to breathe.
