Tess’s eyes never left the agent, even though Oliver was trying to catch her gaze.

She said, “Hello, Oliver, going somewhere?”

“This is Agent Ferguson. Agent Bass sent him to check on Chevy. We’re on our way there now.”

Tess nodded. But Oliver saw her hand unsnap her duty weapon just as Agent Ferguson wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him close. In shock, Oliver felt the arm tighten against his neck and the cold steel of a gun barrel as it pressed into his temple.

–––

Tess tried to hide her terror when she saw Oliver with Jim Smith. They were way too close together. She knew that there would be no negotiation with this man; he was a no-hesitation killer. Her gaze went straight to the blue eyes of the tall man, and she saw the murderous calculation there. Her only hope was to get some distance between him and Oliver and hopefully take him down.

But it all went wrong. As she approached—at a loss for how to get the message to Oliver that he was in danger, there was a killer at his back—she saw Smith move even closer to Oliver, and she had no choice but to draw her weapon. She cleared leather the same time Smith wrapped his arm around Oliver’s neck and pulled him close, gun to Oliver’s head.

“Drop it, Smith. This is the end of the line. You have nowhere else to go.” Tess took a shooter’s stance. She knew backup was en route. Surely Smith had to see there was no endgame here.

Then again, he was a cold-blooded killer.

“No, no, Chief. You drop your weapon, or this town will be minus a clergyman.”

Tess couldn’t look at Oliver; she kept her eyes fixed on Smith.

“Not going to happen. The sheriff’s department, state police, and officers from my department are going to converge on this spot in seconds. There is no way out for you.”

As if to punctuate her point, sirens became audible in the distance, growing closer.

He fidgeted, and Tess saw indecision cross his face, but it was quickly replaced by a hardness, a resolve. He wasn’t going to give up easily. She tried another tack.

“Look, we know Cyrus Beck sent you. He’s the one we want. Let go of Pastor Macpherson, give up, cooperate, and things could go easier for you.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Snitch? Not likely.”

A patrol vehicle screamed into the lot. Tess didn’t turn but knew it was most likely Del Jeffers.

The siren died, and Tess tightened her grip, sharpened her aim. She was confident in her shooting ability, but Smith wasn’t giving her a very big target.

As if reading her thoughts, Smith stiffened his hold on Oliver.

“I want out, simple as that. I—”