Ramos pulled to a stop about sixty yards away. “Is that it?”
“If it is, we’re too close. We should go back down the road a bit, get some cover from the trees where he can’t see us.”
“We’re just here to take a look around.” Ramos shut the engine and pulled a compact pair of binoculars from the armrest compartment. “SWAT’s gonna do the heavy lifting of flushing the jackass out.”
“I got that,” Vail said. “But I think we should pull back.”
Ramos frowned and squinted, as if to say Vail was speaking nonsense. “I think we’re good right here. We’re sixty or seventy yards away. Safe distance.”
“How do you define ‘safe’?”
“That trailer bugs me.”
“Did you hear me?”
He peered into the woods. “I heard you. But I’m driving. And it’s my truck. My call.”
“We’ve got a guy who’s already tried to kill us with an automatic weapon. If he’s got an assault rifle—”
“He doesn’t. He left it at that house in Lake Ridge, remember? Shit, after all the ammo he blew through, he may be out of that, too.”
“How can you be sure?”
“How can you be sure of anything in life?”
How did this turn into a philosophical discussion?
“We don’t even know if he’s here.” Ramos popped open his door. “Let’s go.”
“Go?”
“Take a look around. Those are our orders.” Ramos studied her face. “You can wait here if you want.” He brought the binoculars to his eyes. “I was expecting a small, you know, mobile home. That people live in. What do you think?”
“Tactical challenge, for sure. No windows, no idea what’s inside. Who’s inside. Harder to breach.”
“The blindness works both ways,” he said. “Assuming Gaines’s here, he can’t see us, either.”
“Good point.”
He pushed open his door. “I’m gonna take a look around. If he’s here and watching, at this distance, I won’t pose much of a threat.”
“I think we should pull back or wait for SWAT.”
“I heard you the first two times.” He dropped a leg out and slid his ass off the seat. “So wait.”
Ramos closed his door and passed in front of the SUV.
Shit. I feel like a goddamn coward.
He continued another ten feet when Vail cursed under her breath and joined Ramos as he trudged through the frozen snow and mud.
“Thanks for having my back. I knew you’d come around.”
“You did.”
“I can tell what you’re made of. You wouldn’t leave a teammate to do the dirty work while you cower in the safety of a car.”
“I wasn’t cowering. I just don’t have a death wish.”
“I don’t think anyone’s inside,” he said, ignoring her comment. “Why live in a rectangular metal box when there’s a cabin with all the comforts of home a few yards away? That trailer could just be storage.” He handed her the binoculars.
Vail surveyed the structure. “Don’t think so. Look at the electrical lines that run into it. Thick cables. More than you’d need to light up a storage room.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Listen to you, Ms. Electrician. Do you actually know what you’re talking about?”
“No. But it sounded good, didn’t it? If you really want to know, the satellite dish on top is what tipped me off.”
Ramos squinted into the distance and said, “Oh.”
“Not ‘oh.’ Uh-oh. There are cameras.” Keeping the binoculars against her face, Vail pointed. “One o’clock and eleven o’clock. More toward the back. He might be watching us right now. I’m not getting a good feeling about this.”
She handed him the glasses and he slowed as he studied the trailer.
Vail stopped suddenly and grabbed Ramos’s arm. “Hang on.” She crouched and gestured at something. “Trip wire.”
Ramos growled. “Sonofabitch.”
Is he watching us? Vail rose up. “I think we should get back to the truck.”
“We’re not a threat, especially if he’s heavily armed. What are two cops gonna do with pistols?”
“I thought you were sure he didn’t have any more assault rifles.”
“I said we can’t be sure of anything.” He shoved the binoculars against her shoulder. “We keep our distance, we’ll be fine.”
She took another look. As she let her gaze roam over its metal skin, she saw cutouts, narrow slots, almost like gun turrets—
Vail pulled the glasses away from her face. “I’m going back.” The crunch of tires on the frozen ground drew her attention. She turned to see Hurdle’s SUV pulling to a stop. Walters, Tarkoff, and Morrison were visible in the passenger and rear seats.
As she continued on to Ramos’s car, she saw another booby trap a few feet to her left. She stopped and turned toward Hurdle, who was getting out of his truck.
“Hold it!” she said. “Place is rigged. Trip wires. Could be mines.”
Hurdle froze in mid-step, his boot hovering above the hard-packed terrain. “You shitting me?”
“What do we do now?” Walters asked.
“Retreat,” Vail said, “a hundred yards back down the road.”