Far Gone Read Online Free PDF Page B

careful eye on the odometer. In the light of the moon, she spotted the high line of the game fence and the eight-foot posts on either side of the gate.
    It was closed.
    She rolled to a stop and checked her surroundings. She’d propped that gate open with a rock, but it was shut now. How had it come to be that way? They’d had some gusts in the last hour, so maybe the wind had moved it.
    Or maybe the landowner had.
    She looked around, hyperalert for any sign of someone lurking nearby. In the dimness, she spotted the loop of baling wire that had been used to secure the gate. It lay in the dirt near the fence post, exactly where she’d left it.
    Andrea climbed out. She paused beside her SUV and listened for a full minute before trudging over to the post. She hauled the gate open, then slid behind the wheel and rattled over the cattle guard that separated Lost Creek from its neighbor. Again, she returned to the gate. She reattached the baling wire and let out a sigh. Home free.
    A force slammed into her, plowing her face-first into the dirt. Her breath disappeared with an oomph! She bucked and tried to scream, but the weight crushed her lungs. Fire lanced up her back as the barrel of her own pistol dug into her spine.
    Something clamped around her wrists. Her arms were wrenched back at an impossible angle. She sucked in a breath but got a mouthful of dirt, and panic set in as she struggled for air.
    Then the weight disappeared. She rolled. She scrambled for her knees, and a bolt of pain seared through her abdomen. She convulsed into a tight ball. Another kick landed like a sledgehammer. The third time, she reacted, grabbing the boot and yanking with all her might, but it tore from her hands. Muffled curses as her attacker tripped backward.
    She rolled away into something prickly. Cactus! Choking and gasping for air, she groped for her gun and got it out of her holster just as an engine roared to life nearby. She pushed to her knees and finally caught a breath—and a nose full of exhaust fumes—as the truck sped away.
    ♦
     
    “Where the hell’s he going?” Torres adjusted the screen on their navigation system. “There’s nothing out here.”
    Jon picked up his radio. “Give us an update.”
    “Subject is still moving due west,” Whitfield reported.
    “Copy that. What’s your speed?”
    “We’re doing about thirty. He seems to know the area pretty good.”
    Torres worked the GPS, trying to determine their destination. “Nothing on the map.”
    Jon tried to rein in his frustration as he steered over the bumpy ground. What did Andrea Finch think she was doing creeping around Hardin’s property in the middle of the night?
    “Think I remember a dirt road back here, when we did that first flyover.” Torres looked out the window, but the rugged countryside was devoid of lights. “You remember anything else?”
    “No.”
    “Okay, now he’s changing course,” Whitfield said over the radio. “He’s heading northwest.”
    “Keep on him,” Jon ordered. “He know you’re back there?”
    “Negative. I’m driving blind, using the NVGs.”
    Jon made headway through the desert brush, plowing over the low stuff but veering around any sizable rocks. Whitfield was doing the same but using night-vision goggles instead of headlights. The tactic would help him close the distance without being seen, but noise could still be a problem. Sound traveled pretty well out here.
    They hit a rut, and Torres braced his hand on the dash as he reached for his radio again.
    “Whitfield, any sign of a second vehicle?”
    No answer.
    “Whitfield?”
    “Got an un-ID’d”—static—“west.”
    “Repeat?”
    “I got an un-ID’d vehicle moving in from the west, maybe a mile out.”
    “Roger that.”
    Jon rolled to a stop and killed his lights. The terrain was flatter here, and he needed to avoid being seen by both parties.
    “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Torres said, looking around.
    “Maybe that’s the point.”