The Lookout: A Gripping Survival Thriller Read online

  The Lookout

  Jack Hunt

  Direct Response Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 by Jack Hunt

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  THE LOOKOUT is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Jack Hunt

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  The Agora Virus series

  Phobia

  Anxiety

  Strain

  The War Buds series

  War Buds 1

  War Buds 2

  War Buds 3

  Camp Zero series

  State of Panic

  State of Shock

  State of Decay

  Renegades series

  The Renegades

  The Renegades Book 2: Aftermath

  The Renegades Book 3: Fortress

  The Renegades Book 4: Colony

  The Renegades Book 5: United

  The Wild Ones Duology

  The Wild Ones Book 1

  The Wild Ones Book 2

  The EMP Survival series

  Days of Panic

  Days of Chaos

  Days of Danger

  Days of Terror

  The Against All Odds Duology

  As We Fall

  As We Break

  The Amygdala Syndrome series

  Unstable

  Unhinged

  Survival Rules series

  Rules of Survival

  Rules of Conflict

  Rules of Darkness

  Rules of Engagement

  Lone Survivor series

  All That Remains

  All That Survives

  All That Escapes

  All That Rises

  Mavericks series

  Mavericks: Hunters Moon

  Time Agents series

  Killing Time

  Single Novels

  Blackout

  Defiant

  Darkest Hour

  Final Impact

  The Year Without Summer

  The Last Storm

  The Last Magician

  The Lookout

  For my Family

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  A Plea

  Readers Team

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Kelly Danvers thought she was going to have a heart attack as she sprinted through the dark, empty streets of Emery. Her chest heaved, throat burned and knees pumped like pistons. How much of a head start had swinging that lamp bought her? Not enough. An angry shout filled the air behind her, he was on her tail, but he wouldn’t catch her this time.

  She kept going, wheeling around corners. To either side were high snowbanks, unplowed driveways and vehicles blanketed in snow. Lights flickered in the distance, shadows straining toward her. The downtown, where she needed to be was close yet still seemed too far away. Dismay filled her chest like a heavy weight. Logic told her to seek help from neighbors but they wouldn’t believe her, and any delay could prove costly. No, the only way to stop him was to go to the top.

  Let them see for themselves.

  Then there would be no denying.

  It was a little after 11 p.m. A change in weather punished the small Idaho town.

  Her bare feet plunged into slush, numb from the cold. Her teeth chattered, and body shivered hard from wearing nothing more than a bikini. What little warmth gained from the hot tub was now gone, replaced by freezing temperatures. When a harsh wind blew in her face, she barely gasped — too cold to feel it. Not even snow could slow her or ease the pain coursing through her body.

  This time she knew with certainty that he would have killed her.

  A vehicle’s headlights washed over her. Panic shook her to the core. Is it you?

  She darted left, cutting through a yard, tears streaking her red cheeks.

  Please, God, please don’t let him find me. Don’t let it be him.

  A silver SUV tore past her, splashing slush two feet high. She breathed a sigh of relief only to go tense at the sound of a vehicle, then his angry voice. “Kelly!”

  Was he driving? On foot?

  Did he know where she was going? Maybe he would try to cut her off before she got there. She wouldn’t allow that. Kelly summoned strength she didn’t even know she had as she staggered into another road. The world around her blurred behind a curtain of tears. She cut through a small wooded area, going on sheer instinct more than anything.

  Disoriented when she exited the rear of her home, she’d gone southwest. A change of direction, the tiniest miscalculation and she could find herself lost in the surrounding evergreen forest. Gnarled tree branches slapped at her chest. Thorns and brambles raked her legs. She screamed but nothing came out except a croak. That’s exactly what he wanted.

  Don’t have a voice. Don’t answer back. Don’t get out of line.

  Trapped.

  It had been her life for far too long.

  Bursting out of the tree line, she stumbled to her knees with nothing to hold.

  The shock of hitting the ground brought more tears to her eyes.

  Scrambling, she pressed on at the sound of a vehicle getting closer.

  This was him. He’d seen her. Any minute now he would scoop her up.

  She squinted into the blackness of night trying to get her bearings.

  Her eyes scanned the terrain, looking for landmarks, anything to indicate where she was. A sign for a hardware store, a poster for an event at the café in town.

  It wasn’t far now.

  A shot of adrenaline made her realize she had more gas in her tank. She stumbled across the slick, cold street. A few bundled-up pedestrians looked over and frowned, then smiled, unaware, confused even. They must have thought it was a prank.

  There.

  She squinted.

  In The distance.

  Looming out of the snowy night, a beacon of light.

  The low-slung white building crouched at the corner of the street, an American flag at full mast, flapped in the breeze. Beyond that a police SUV smothered in white powder, and a pale yellow light emanating from the windows.

  Soaking wet, frozen to the bone, Kelly shouldered the door and collapsed inside the warmth of the lobby. Behind thick plexiglass, a blurry image of an officer scrambling toward the door. A low buzz blaste
d from hidden speakers before a thick door swung wide. A second later, the officer dropped down beside her as she regained consciousness.

  “Ms. Danvers? What happened? Who did this?”

  “It was him,” the words barely came out, pushing past a damaged voice box, almost inaudible. “He attacked me.”

  She squinted through a swollen eye.

  “Help!” the male officer shouted over his shoulder before scooping her up in his strong arms and carrying her through the doorway into an office of desks covered by computers, phones and paperwork. She groaned as the world spun around her. “I’ve got you. Hang in there.” She heard footsteps, someone gasped and the officer shouted for them to swing the cruiser around. He was going to take her to the hospital immediately.

  Eyes bloodshot, dipping in and out of consciousness, struggling to breathe, Kelly could feel her life drifting away.

  “Give me a name. Who did this?”

  “He did…”

  “He? Who? Who are you referring to, Ms. Danvers?”

  His name, his voice, his twisted face looming over her, a look of uncontrollable anger. A flash of violence as if he was right there about to finish what he’d started. Words escaped her lips but they came out as a mere whisper, nothing more than a breathless rasp. The officer placed his ear to her mouth and she repeated, “My husband, Deputy Cole Johnston.”

  1

  Something bad was about to happen.

  When Kelly saw the road sign that let her know she was five miles from Emery, her breath turned shallow and her pulse sped up. She couldn’t shake the sense of dread as the taxi rumbled toward the outskirts of town.

  Three weeks.

  Three weeks had passed since that fateful night and her hands still trembled, though now she wasn’t sure if it was from returning or the second cup of java she’d had that morning. She tried to shrug off the oppressive feeling and bask in the frozen beauty outside but her anxiety was getting worse the closer she got.

  It was clear that Friday in northern Idaho during the last week of December. Temperatures had plunged to four degrees above zero and the evergreen trees were covered in a heavy layer of snow. From inside the warmth of a taxi that smelled musty, Kelly looked absently out the frosted window, lost in thought as her phone began buzzing. She fished into her bag and the name and face of her literary agent, Nora Green, appeared on the caller ID. She groaned and contemplated not answering as she knew where the conversation would go and reliving it was not how she wanted to start the day. Still, three years and she knew Nora well enough to know she was like a dog on a bone. Kelly was aware that unless she turned off the ringer, the calls would continue for the remainder of the day like a telemarketer that wouldn’t give up.

  She tapped accept and summoned a positive tone. “Nora.”

  “Kelly. Finally. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for weeks”

  “Yeah… I changed my number, how did you—?”

  “Your mother.” Nora went silent knowing that Kelly preferred to keep her personal and business life separate. It was the one thing she had control over and she guarded it fiercely. Nora was quick to explain. “What? You haven’t returned my calls, texts or emails. You’d practically disappeared off the face of the planet, and you are far too young to pull that reclusive writer bullcrap. What was I supposed to do?”

  Kelly brought a hand up to her high cheekbone, and tucked a long strand of jet-black hair behind her ear. “Sorry about that. Ugh. I haven’t exactly been in the mood for small talk.”

  There was silence, and Nora shifted down a gear. “I know. I heard. Your mother told me.” A pause. “God, Kelly, I’m so sorry.” She took a deep breath. “I mean it makes sense now. The missed deadlines. The lack of communication. You should have told me, hon.”

  “Would it have changed anything? The deadline would have still been there.”

  “Oh screw the deadline. I could have made some calls, rearranged things. It’s the PR that I’m worried about. Fortunately your name wasn’t attached to the news article on Cole but once it gets out that it was you, the media will have a field day.” She sighed. “Which reminds me, how have you managed to keep it under wraps?”

  “I haven’t. You might want to ask the department about that. They haven’t exactly been helpful.”

  Nora grumbled. “To be expected I guess. One of their own and whatnot. But he was arrested.”

  Kelly rubbed her eye; the new contact lenses were irritating her. “Of course he was, they didn’t have a choice. He was slapped with an assault charge and an order of protection was issued against him. But it didn’t exactly do much. They released him on his own recognizance.”

  “Released?”

  “Yeah, they don’t consider him a flight risk. History I guess; his position with the department has a lot to do with it.”

  “But he has a history of abuse, right? I mean, your mother said you told her that he’d hit you before?”

  Kelly ran a hand around the back of her neck. She really didn’t want to get into it. “Those times were not documented. This was the first time I…”

  Nora went silent and Kelly could only imagine what she was thinking, what anyone would think. Why hadn’t she told someone earlier? Why hadn’t she left him? She was a walking abuse statistic, a cliché, and it sickened her. The fact was who would have believed her? Cole was a familiar face in the county, in the schools and at public events. Hell, he’d helped raise money for kids with cancer. He was by all rights, a pillar in the community. Instead of getting into the past, she simply tried to bring the conversation to a close. “The case has been downgraded from a felony to a misdemeanor. Cole told them a different story and I guess…”

  “They’re taking his word over yours,” Nora added.

  Kelly shrugged and blew out her cheeks. “I don’t know. I’m still waiting to hear back on the outcome of the arraignment. From what I heard, he pleaded not guilty and he was released. The department has placed him on administrative leave pending an internal affairs investigation. The case hasn’t been dropped by any means but by the sounds of it, it’s not exactly priority. Seems his lawyers think he has a strong case. What that is, I’ve yet to find out but I’m meant to chat with my lawyer this week so I will learn more then.”

  Kelly’s conversation must have been the highlight of the taxi driver’s day as he kept sweeping his rearview mirror and staring at her. Did he pity her? Think she was a joke? She still hadn’t moved beyond what people thought. Since leaving Cole, she had vanished into obscurity, avoiding public places, staying low and thinking — overthinking.

  “Well, keep me updated. I hope that bastard gets everything he deserves and more. Um… your mother said you were heading back to Emery today, is that right?”

  “Yeah, I’m nearly there.”

  “Why?” Nora asked.

  “I haven’t put out a good book in over two years, Nora. I need to get back to it.”

  She laughed. “A Call to War spent a hundred and nine weeks on the New York Times Bestseller List — in the top three slots I might add — it was translated into over eighty different languages, won the Pulitzer Prize, has sold millions upon millions of copies and is now considered one of the Great American Novels of our time. The only authors that have come close to that are Harper Lee, and John Steinbeck. And I might add, Harper Lee didn’t publish anything further for what… around fifty-five years? So… a good book? Please, Kelly, you underestimate yourself.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Listen, darlin’… I am all for hearing that you are ready to put your fingers on the keys again — trust me, the publishing world is waiting with bated breath after your last, but after what you’ve been through… do you really think it’s the right time?” She waited for a response; Kelly didn’t give one. “It’s only been two years. I think people can wait another year for your next novel. Wouldn’t it be best to stay with family until this is over? Besides, it’s not like you’re hurting for money.” There was a pau
se. “Are you?”

  Kelly managed to summon a chuckle. “I’ll let you know once the lawyers have been paid.” She took a swig of her coffee and continued, “No, look, I can’t just sit around at my mom’s place. I’ll go out of my mind. Anyway, I’ve put it off long enough. If I don’t get going now I don’t think I’ll ever write again.”

  “Oh, poppycock! I won’t have you spiraling down into depression, drink and drugs. I already have enough clients like that.”

  Kelly chuckled. “Look, it’s not the only reason I’m heading back — I have to head up to the peak and winterize the lookout for the season, so I might as well use the time to do some writing.”

  “You’re still running that old place? I thought you’d sold that years ago.”

  Back when Kelly was an unknown writer, paying the bills and writing was a challenge, so as a means to support her career her father had purchased an old fire lookout tower for less than twenty grand with the goal of turning it into a rental property. It was an investment. They were to share in the profits. It had done well. Most months it was booked up but over the winter that was another story. Her fascination with fire lookouts and their place in American history had started when she learned that Jack Kerouac had worked in one before he published On the Road. That’s when the idea was born. Still, getting her hands on one was difficult. Since the first was erected back in 1905 to allow the Forest Service to spot fires, over four thousand had been in operation around the United States, mostly in National Forests. Eventually that number dwindled to less than nine hundred as new technologies such as air patrols and computerized lightning detection systems took over.

  Prior to the purchase, only a few hundred were still actively being used by rangers. Of course this was the opportunity she was after. Kelly had scoured the internet until she found one that was only a few years old, located on sixteen acres of land just on the outskirts of the Idaho Panhandle National Forests. It was nestled deep in the evergreen woods, a remote off-the-grid location that was tricky to get to even in the summer months. Once it was purchased, the rest was history… and a lot of hard work, but it paid the bills and kept a roof over her head while she focused on writing.