Morrow went in low, pistol up. The back room—an examination suite—was dark. He heard breathing. Not panicked. Controlled. “Twenty-nine,” Morrow said quietly. “It’s over.”
Driscoll nodded. “That’s your window. He’ll hit a rural clinic or a veterinary supply depot. We have three possible targets along his route.” She handed each a slim dossier. “Go quiet. No local law. No air support. Twenty-nine can hear helicopter rotors from four miles out.” Manhunters -2006- 29
A woman screamed.
Phlox was already scrolling. “He’s not running for an airfield. He’s running for the Interstate. If he hits I-10, he can be in Texas before dawn.” Morrow went in low, pistol up