A Killer's Storm: FBI Mystery Thriller (Jo Pullinger Book 5) by Thomas Fincham

Author:Thomas Fincham [Fincham, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-02T23:00:00+00:00

FIFTY-ONE

The time was six AM. McKinley was still asleep and showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. Jo eased her way out of the car. She pushed the door shut slowly until she heard it click.

“Good enough.”

She turned to face the rising sun. It shone through a blue crack in the otherwise gray sky. With Seattle’s winter weather being what it was, it had been a while since she felt this warmth on her skin. Hopefully, wherever Swann was, he could feel it too.

Jo strolled a little way up the road. Her shoes crunched in a thin layer of snow. Bobby’s plow had pushed most of it to the side. There was a wall of ice just beyond the edge of the pavement. It was as high as Jo’s hip, and she was a tall woman.

The wind had died. The air was still. Jo did a few jumping jacks and managed to work up a sweat. Back home, she had been keeping up with her jogging regimen. She was used to exercising in the mornings and didn’t want to miss out.

She went as far as she could go without losing sight of the car. Then she started running. She went past the car, seeking a good turnaround spot. Maybe she could get a mile or so in before McKinley woke up.

There was a curve in the road ahead. She stopped there, looking back to check if the car was still in sight. She paused to catch her breath. The cold, dry air wasn’t doing her throat any favors.

Jo heard an engine behind her. The crackle of tires in the snow. She turned to find a tall white van ambling toward her. Even though the windshield was tinted and impossible to see through, she knew right away who it was.

She stepped off to the side to give the van space. It pulled up beside her. The front passenger window rolled down, and Bryan Ford grinned out at her. He was a handsome man in his early forties.

“Morning, Jo,” he said. “Did you have your morning Joe?”

“Not yet,” she replied with a laugh.

Ford handed her a cup of coffee through the window. “There you are. Just the way you like it. I think. Where’s McKinley?”

Jo gestured toward the car. “In dreamland.”

Ford nodded. “Got a cup for him, too. Jo, say hi to Rupert.”

The driver waved at her. He was a stocky guy with thin blond hair.

“Hello, Rupert,” Jo said. “Good to meet you.”

“The other boys are in the back,” Rupert told her. He had a British accent. “Where would you like us?”

“Just follow me,” said Jo.

She jogged back to the car. The van tailed her at five miles an hour. As they were approaching, the door opened, and McKinley stepped out. He blinked groggily, stifling a yawn.

“Jo,” he called. “I think someone’s following you.”

Ford stuck his head out of the window. “It’s just me. And I’ve got your caffeine fix here.”

McKinley was suddenly alert. He accepted the cup that was handed to him and popped the lid off.

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