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Back Minutes to Kill Save as PDF
Chapters (45)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Chapter Six
  11. Chapter Seven
  12. Chapter Eight
  13. Chapter Nine
  14. Chapter Ten
  15. Chapter Eleven
  16. Chapter Twelve
  17. Chapter Thirteen
  18. Chapter Fourteen
  19. Chapter Fifteen
  20. Chapter Sixteen
  21. Chapter Seventeen
  22. Chapter Eighteen
  23. Chapter Nineteen
  24. Chapter Twenty
  25. Chapter Twenty-One
  26. Chapter Twenty-Two
  27. Chapter Twenty-Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-Four
  29. Chapter Twenty-Five
  30. Chapter Twenty-Six
  31. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  32. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  33. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  34. Chapter Thirty
  35. Chapter Thirty-One
  36. Chapter Thirty-Two
  37. Chapter Thirty-Three
  38. Chapter Thirty-Four
  39. Chapter Thirty-Five
  40. Chapter Thirty-Six
  41. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  42. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  43. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  44. Acknowledgments
  45. About the Author

“The cat came with the house. I’m not home enough to have a dog, but I like them both.” Brody turned the car toward Grant’s house. “You’re pretty good in the woods at night for a lawyer.”

“I told you. My childhood wasn’t typical.”

“Because your father was disabled?”

“That was part of it.” Hannah glanced in the back. Seemingly satisfied that the dog was fine, she settled down and raised her hands to the heat vents. “Even after he became a colonel, my father was an army ranger in his heart. After the explosion, he decided that if he couldn’t be a ranger anymore, it was his job to pass along all his skills to his sons.”

“Just his sons?”

“I had to beg to go along on all the survival training weekends.” Her face turned toward the passenger window.

“Survival training?” Brody prodded. “That sounds serious.”

“The Colonel didn’t do anything halfway. I remember one particularly bad trip when we lost Lee.”

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Hannah dropped her backpack in the foyer. “I’m ready.”

The Colonel gave her a quizzical look. “Are you sure you want to come?”

“Yes.” Hannah dropped to one knee to lace her hiking boot.

Her father spun his wheelchair to face her. “This is not going to be a leisurely camping trip.”

She wasn’t slouching, but the Colonel’s scrutiny made her feel as if she were.

“I know.” She stretched her head toward the ceiling. In school, she didn’t advertise her height. At twelve, being taller than most of the boys in your class wasn’t an asset, but the Colonel valued size, strength, and intelligence.

“Wouldn’t you rather stay home and bake with your mother?” the Colonel asked. “She really enjoys doing that with you.”

Hannah flinched. “No.”

The Colonel didn’t understand why his daughter would want to traipse around the woods with the boys. The Colonel didn’t understand her.

“The boys aren’t going to slow down for you,” he said, maneuvering to inspect her pack. “And the weather isn’t on your side. It’s going to be cold and rainy.”

“Yes, sir.” Hannah lifted her chin.

“Women don’t belong in the field.” The Colonel had never been shy about voicing his opinion on women in combat. “You know I don’t believe in all that politically correct bullshit.”

“I do,” Hannah said. And so did everyone else. She had to fight for inclusion. Every. Single. Time.

He sighed and shook his head. “You can go.”

Why did he not see that she consistently kept pace with his sons, and in some areas, outperformed them? Because he didn’t want to admit his beliefs were outdated and maybe even wrong. The Colonel was old-school military.