THE SCREAM THAT STOPPED MY HEART

The Blackwood Lumber Mill was a rotting cathedral of rusted corrugated iron and rotting cedar logs, abandoned forty years ago when the river timber runs died out. The storm had intensified, whipping heavy sheets of blinding snow across the open gravel yard.

I drove the stolen Dodge Ram through the shattered perimeter gate, the tires crunching over the hard-packed ice. My hands were slick with sweat inside my gloves.

In the center of the mill’s cavernous loading bay, the two black Suburbans were parked nose-to-tail, their headlights cutting twin beams through the swirling blizzard. Marcus Cole stood between the vehicles, his cashmere coat fluttering in the draft.

Emily was locked in the back seat of the lead Suburban, her small face pressed against the tinted glass, weeping silently.

I stopped the truck thirty feet away, killed the engine, and stepped out into the freezing wind, holding my hands high in the air. In my right hand, I held an old silver thumb drive I had retrieved from my law office keychain.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, Mr. Mercer," Cole yelled over the howling storm. Two armed operatives in tactical gear stepped out from behind the Suburbans, their rifles leveled at my chest.

"Where is the girl?" I shouted back, teeth chattering from a mixture of sub-zero wind and pure adrenaline.

"She is safe for now," Cole replied, walking forward with casual confidence. "Drop the drive in the snow and take five steps back."

"Let Emily out first!" I yelled.

Cole smiled, a cruel, pitying smirk. "You really are an amateur, David. You don't have leverage here. You never did." He signaled to the operative on the left. "Kill him."

The operative raised his barrel.

Before his finger could squeeze the trigger, the entire corrugated roof above the loading bay collapsed in an explosion of splintered structural beams and falling snow.

A silhouette plunged through the blizzard like a vengeful angel.

Claire landed directly on top of the first operative, her combat blade driving through his collarbone, using his collapsing weight to absorb her fall. Before the second guard could swing his rifle, she rolled, drew the suppressed P320 from her tactical holster, and put two rounds through his throat.