Threat Warning Read Online Free PDF

Jonathan couldn’t bring himself to hammer any more soul out of the man. “Apology accepted.”
    He started to move past again, and Clark again grabbed his arm. At that moment, the jail’s front door opened, and a hot babe in a ski jacket hurried into the over-lit white-walled room. A dark ponytail flopped from under a wool stocking cap. Jonathan could think of no one he’d rather see.
    “There’s more,” Clark said, hanging on to the arm. “I’m supposed to offer you a ride home.”
    “He’s already got a ride,” the new arrival said. Then, in response to Clark’s confusion, “I’m Gail Bonneville, Mr. Grave’s business partner.”
    Clark looked unsure whether to believe her. Jonathan couldn’t have cared less.
    “This is the quick-witted Agent Clark of the United States Secret Service,” Jonathan explained. “He’s the one who put me up in this fine bed-and-breakfast.”
    Clark reddened.
    “Just doing his job, I’m sure,” Gail said. “From what I’ve heard, you showed a lot of courage out there on the bridge, Agent Clark.”
    Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Let’s go home,” he said.
    Clark cleared his throat and shifted his feet. Clearly, there was more. “The director was very specific,” he said. “I am to shake your hand and offer you any other assistance that I can.” He offered his hand.
    Now Jonathan felt bad for the guy. How much humiliation had Irene Rivers demanded? He accepted the man’s hand. “Consider it done. In fact, consider anything else that the director insisted that you do to be done. There really are no hard feelings.”
    He was pretty sure that was a one-sided statement.

C HAPTER F OUR
     
    Ryan’s mind raced. They should be fighting back, shouldn’t they? Instead, they were just doing what this bitch with the gun told them to do, driving long into the night—over two hours now—without a word being spoken by anyone.
    This Colleen chick was an odd piece of work. Even as she threatened their lives, she managed to sound friendly. Now that the threat was made—and Ryan didn’t doubt that she was capable of killing again—she’d stopped talking, except to give Mom occasional driving directions. She spent the quiet time softly humming church songs. Ryan recognized “Amazing Grace”—who didn’t know that one?—and several others sounded familiar enough that he could have hummed along if he’d wanted. Ryan didn’t consider himself anyone’s expert on religion, but he was pretty sure that Heaven was out of reach for murderers and kidnappers. When one person did both, the odds had to be pretty awful.
    Colleen had actually spoken Ryan’s thoughts when she warned against tumbling out of the car and going for help. That was exactly what he’d been considering. Now, with the dire threat to kill Mom still standing, the moment for action was lost. But maybe only for a little while.
    Ryan’s dad had told him a thousand times that eighty percent of so-called “victims” of violent crime were in fact willing participants who talked themselves into victimhood as a means of rationalizing their fears. They didn’t consider life-saving action because it added new risk.
    In the abstract, it’s easy to think of people who feel fear as cowards, but in real time, when you’re the one who’s likely to die if the nut job pulls the trigger, fear feels more like a survival skill than cowardice.
    Interstate 66 led to Interstate 81, which in turn led to Route 262. After that, he lost track of the route numbers. They drove west, endlessly into the night.
    They drove into a future that Ryan imagined held little comfort for the Nasbe family. Their next opportunity to make a difference would arrive when they made their first stop—whether it was at their final destination or at someplace along the way for gas or maybe even a pee break. A dozen ideas churned in Ryan’s brain, from the simple to the heroic. Somewhere in the mix of all those options, there had to be one that would