He approached with caution, an eerie feeling of dread stealing through his blood as he surveyed the place. No pickup or truck, but a snowmobile was parked near a door and a rescue stretcher had been attached to it.
Grimly, he realized this was how Whitaker brought his victims here. A few lights glowed from the inside through the icy windows, and Carter’s guts felt like lead. He reached into his pocket, found his cell phone, and turned it on. Nothing. No signal.
Shit.
From his backpack he dragged out his walkie-talkie and hit the button. A crackle of noise erupted. “It’s Carter—I’m at the lodge, and I think Whitaker’s here. Send backup!”
He didn’t wait for a response, couldn’t risk the time. Stuffing his walkie-talkie into the pack again, he pulled out his sidearm and held it in one hand.
The fingers of his other hand gripped the ice axe.
A scream tore through the woods, a terrified wail erupting from within the building.
Carter didn’t think twice.
He kicked open the door, ducked inside, and with his weapon drawn, yelled, “Police! Freeze!”
What!
Whitaker heard the shout and turned. The lawman was standing in the doorway, gun drawn, aiming at him. Walking toward him as if he had the right.
Jenna let out a gasp of relief that curdled Whitaker’s stomach. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when he was so close.
He lunged to one side and hit the ground, rolling over and grabbing Jenna, holding her against him like a human shield. He had no weapon, but grabbed her neck and twisted.
She cried out.
“I’ll kill her, Carter,” he said calmly. “And then you can shoot the hell out of this place, kill me. It won’t matter—I’ll be with her.”
“Help!” Cassie cried, and Whitaker chanced a glance her way. She was almost submerged, gasping for breath, the freezing water slowing her reactions, hypothermia setting in.
“Shane, help her,” Jenna cried. “The controls are in the computer room.”
“Let her go.”
Carter trained his gun on him, but Whitaker didn’t care. He’d die with Jenna, take her with him, and he would have reached his goal. Here, with Jenna in his arms.
“I said ‘let her go,’” Carter repeated.
“Fuck off,” he growled, and while staring at Carter, held Jenna’s head twisted with one arm while fondling her breast with the other. It was heaven.
Gurgling sounds came from the other side of the room. Cassie was drowning, and the lawman couldn’t stop it.
Jenna bucked. All of her body convulsing, her tied hands flailing. Whitaker saw Carter shift, and he tightened his grip on Jenna, wrenching her neck.
The pain was excruciating, but Jenna didn’t care. Cassie was drowning. In front of her eyes. And the knife was only inches from her hand. She threw herself up at her attacker, throwing all of her weight against him, her hands scraping the concrete, breaking nails. She found the hilt of the knife, picked it up in both hands, and turned, slashing wildly, her head feeling as if it would fall off.
Whitaker yelped. Cassie sputtered.
The harsh grip relaxed for an instant.
A shot blasted through the room, reverberating against the walls, and Whitaker fell away.
“Save Cassie!” Jenna cried, stumbling to her feet. With his ice axe, Carter unbound Jenna’s wrists and ankles, and she ran blindly toward the computer room while Carter climbed the rigging.
Cassie was completely submerged, her body unmoving.
Carter didn’t wait. He aimed his gun at the glass tank.