She’d decided on this location because of the family and because it gave her enemy the illusion of several ways in and out.The chicken-wire fencing didn’t offer much in the way of a challenge or a deterrent to trespassers. Though they’d never suffered a threat or lost property, the Lewiston family maintained an armed watch on the lot 24/7. One of them would be around, watching.“Welcome to your last day in my town,” Abby murmured, as she checked her weapon and slid the extra clips of ammunition into her coat pockets. Provided her email had made it through to the right party and her challenge had been accepted, the terrorist grip on Belclare was about to end.With her badge in plain view on her jacket and her Glock in hand, she stepped out of the car. The sun was bright in the sky, but the air was bitter cold. The wind nipped at her cheeks and chilled the denim of her jeans. Her boots crunched on the snow-covered gravel of the parking area. Alternately stepping and pausing to listen, her gun lowered but ready, she cautiously entered the forest of Christmas trees neatly organized by size and type.She felt eyes on her and knew she’d drawn the attention of at least one member of the Lewiston family.
