The Temporary Agent by Daniel Judson

Author:Daniel Judson [Judson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Thriller, Suspense
ISBN: 9781503934993
Amazon: B017LGAKEQ
Goodreads: 28090847
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2016-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

Thirty-Five

The farm was located at the crest of a long hill.

Tom turned the SUV from the two-lane road onto the muddied dirt driveway, and as the vehicle’s headlights swept the front of the house, he saw an oval-shaped brass plaque indicating that the place had been built circa 1750.

Following the driveway past the main house, Tom steered for the barn located two hundred yards from the road.

He stopped the SUV about fifty feet from the structure, shifted into park, and killed the lights but kept the motor running.

The farmhouse and the barn were both three stories tall, and while the house had seen better days, the barn had undergone extensive renovations.

Modern windows, a new roof, a coat of red paint—all, Tom’s experience as a builder told him, completed recently.

There were two entrances to the ground floor—a large garage-style door and a standard-size door to the left of it.

The second story had a row of several windows, the third story just one window and a six-by-six-foot-square hay door.

Behind the barn was a wire fence, and beyond that was a steep decline leading to a bowl-shaped valley below.

The farmhouse was dark, as was the barn. The entire property, though relatively close to the road, struck Tom as secluded—or at least secluded enough.

More than that, this place was one that could be easily defended.

The locations of the farmhouse and the barn turned the part of the driveway he had parked on into nothing less than a kill box.

Once a Seabee, always a Seabee.

Tom took note of the fact that the dirt drive curved off here and wound its way around to the other side of the farmhouse in a horseshoe shape, ultimately leading back to Litchfield Road.

That would be his way out, should he need it.

Opening the driver’s door, he got out of the SUV slowly, holding his arms away from his body as an indication to anyone watching that he was no threat.

His clothes were still wet and he was shivering; the vehicle’s heater had done little against the damp air rushing in through the missing back window as they’d sped here.

And though the rain had slowed from a heavy downpour to a steady drizzle, it was still a cold and miserable world that he was standing in.

Tom raised his voice and called out, “Hello?”

He heard nothing, saw no one.

Glancing at the house to his left, he scanned it.

All the windows were still dark.

Facing the barn again, he called, “I have a man with me in need of medical attention.”

Still nothing.

Tom stepped to the SUV’s back door and opened it.

Hammerton was leaning forward and tucking his SIG into his waistband at the small of his back.

Tom waited till the man was ready before helping him out and keeping him upright as they moved a few steps away from the vehicle.

After waiting a moment and getting only more silence, Tom called out again.

“He may have internal injuries. He needs to be looked at. Now.”

Still nothing.

He surveyed the property—no vehicles anywhere. But looking down at the driveway, he recognized tire tracks in the soaked ground.

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