Course of Action Read online

  Table of Contents

  Course of Action (The Noah Hunter Series, #3)

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Hunter’s Gambit

  David Darling

  Author Notes

  The Tipping Point. Book One in the Noah Hunter Series

  "Best novel I have read in 2021! An outstanding debut novel by an incredible author." - Jonas Saul, author of the Sarah Roberts Series.

  “Loved this book, it was interesting from page one to the end. Never knowing what was going to happen next. Kept me on the edge page after page.” - Elaine C. Stewart, Amazon Review

  “Darling’s story telling is edge-of-your seat, what’s going to happen next, tension-filled and intriguing.” – SteVen Hendricks

  Grave Choices. Book Two in the Noah Hunter Series

  "Grave Choices is right up your alley if you enjoy terrifyingly suspenseful thrillers that leave you gasping at the end with cliffhanger reveals and utter desperation to find out more." - Kashif Hussain, reviewer from Best Thriller Books.

  “Darling writes one heck of a police thriller that will leave you up all night telling yourself “Just one more chapter". This one grabs you from the first chapter and does not let go until the last page and will have you begging for the next book.” – Troy Pool

  “Reading Grave Choices is like watching a high action police drama with characters that you become invested in the more you read, and become emotionally attached to as the story progresses. Through the highs and lows of this roller coaster of a story you will feel the full range of emotions up until the jaw dropping cliff hanger of an ending.” – Mark Elliott

  Course of Action, The Noah Hunter Series: Book 3

  Copyright © 2022 by David Darling

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and specific other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at the email address below.

  [email protected]

  www.daviddarlingbooks.com

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Novels by David Darling

  The Noah Hunter Series

  The Tipping Point

  Grave Choices

  Course of Action

  Hunter’s Gambit (forthcoming)

  STANDALONE

  Serve in the Shadows: Recruitment

  NOVELLA

  Grim Measures

  In loving memory of my cousins, Susan and Nicole.

  The separate blows to the family are devastating and break our hearts.

  “... sing your death song and die like a hero going home.”

  - Chief Tecumseh 1813

  Course of

  Action

  THE NOAH HUNTER SERIES: BOOK 3

  - David Darling

  Chapter 1

  Noah Hunter stood beside the front door in full tactical gear with his Glock 17 ready. When he nodded to the US Marshal, he counted down, “Breach in three, two ...”

  On one, Sedore swung the battering ram, and it collided with the door just under the locking mechanism. The thirty-five-pound Enforcer shattered the wooden frame and bent the dead bolt—it didn’t stand a chance against the four tons of force generated.

  Noah threw the flash-bang grenade and leaned away from the opening. The loud explosion resonated throughout the house, and despite the fact he was around the corner, Noah’s ears rang from the concussive wave. Anyone inside would stagger from the noise and be temporarily blinded by the light, which gave them an advantage.

  A plume of smoke shot out the door and began to fill the interior room. Sergeant Angie Dickinson took a deep breath and tapped her hand on Noah’s left shoulder, and they entered the small home in a rush.

  Noah cleared the left corner while his partner swept the living room’s right side. “Clear.”

  Despite his ears ringing from the grenade, he still heard a young baby shriek down the hall.

  Dickinson stepped to the side at the doorway to the kitchen, brought her Glock 19 to shoulder height, and fired two rounds at the older man with the knife.

  Noah crouched and peered around the corner when the blade hit the floor. “Covering.”

  “Moving.” Angie stayed to the right with her back to the kitchen wall, barrel trained to the man’s head. Her shots had hit an inch apart, dead center of his chest.

  “Clear.”

  Smoke filtered into the remainder of the home as Noah moved through the kitchen and down the hall. The sound of the child crying intensified, and he gestured to the first bedroom on the right. Angie stood at his back and covered the two closed doors down the hall. “Ready.”

  With a surge of energy, Detective Hunter flung the door open. He didn’t hesitate when spotting the shotgun. A three-round burst from his pistol hit the woman in the head, and she flew back into the curtains, then toppled sideways across the nightstand. The baby continued to scream on the bed as the sound of small-arms fire filled the bedroom.

  “Clear!”

  There was no time to deal with the infant as they proceeded down the hall, Dickinson in the lead. When the door at the end flung open, Angie fired at the same time as she reeled from a hit to her shoulder. Her shot went wide and into the top of the door frame. The large man wore a balaclava and had withdrawn into the room while she swore and fell against the wall.

  “Stay here.” Noah stepped around his partner and attempted to slow his heart rate. He couldn’t let the excitement impair his judgment. When a figure leaned around the open doorway in the last bedroom, Noah squeezed the trigger in reflex, and his Glock jumped in his hands with the recoil.

  By then, it was too late.

  The woman in the gray dress slumped to the floor, the warning klaxon sounded, and the bright overhead lights came on.

  Noah couldn’t help but groan, and Angie swore under her breath as she regained her feet.

  “It’s okay. Everyone falls for the switch with the first run through here.”

  The US Marshal had followed several steps behind and punched him in the shoulder as they turned and filed out of the training house. Angie kicked the mannequin in the kitchen as she walked past and holstered her pistol. The exhaust fans turned on while the crew prepared for the next team.

  They had received permission to train at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC) in Glynco, Georgia. Over the ten-day session, they took advanced evasive and defensive driving techniques classes, electronic countermeasures, and enhanced communications lectures. Noah had recognized Marshal Daryl Sedore, who volunteered to work with them for the house clearing (CQB) drills. FLETC was also home to the US Marshal’s training center, and Daryl had taken them under his wing.

  “Hunter and Dickinson, briefing room Charlie.”

  Noah’s instructor leaned over the observation platform and pointed at the set of offices toward the far end of the warehouse. Noah gave him the thumbs-up.

  “Good luck. Will I see you for dinner?”

&nb
sp; “Sounds good.” Sedore removed the training vest and glasses before going to the storeroom. It had been half a year since they worked with him in Arrow Point. His knowledge and expertise were essential to their last case. They had almost captured the serial killer before a hangman’s noose solved the issue of a trial.

  “I should have covered the door better.” Sergeant Dickinson was the most demanding critic of her performance.

  “You were fine. I was the one to shoot the hostage. I didn’t verify my target.”

  Angie nodded, but Noah could tell she wasn’t thrilled. The debriefing room had several desks that faced a large display monitor where the instructor would play back and analyze their last session. The Arrow Point Police Department lacked a tactical division or a quick reaction force where this training type would be standard. Long as the budget allowed, the chief would authorize cross-training of this nature.

  Noah had done such room-clearing drills while in the military as part of his work-up training before deployment. That was over twenty years ago, however, their techniques hadn’t changed.

  Angie collapsed behind a desk and pulled out her notebook to go over the two-person room-clearing drills yet again.

  When Noah’s phone vibrated, he answered when Steve Hutchings’s name popped on the screen. They talked for a minute when Noah abruptly stood. The chair tipped over onto the floor and was ignored.

  “You have to be kidding me ...”

  He couldn’t help but grin at the news and scratched his new short dark beard. Angie gave up studying, closed her manual, and waited.

  Hunter looked at his watch. “Give me sixty minutes, and then I’ll be at the airport and back in Wyoming soon. You better wait for me. We’ve waited eighteen years for this, so a few more hours won’t kill you.”

  After he disconnected the call, Noah closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

  Angie placed the manual off to the side and smiled. “So, are you going to let me in on this, or will I have to guess?”

  The excitement was too much, and Noah grinned. “New information on an old abduction cold case. The first investigation I worked on, actually.”

  Noah had been a rookie and with the Arrow Point Police Department for two weeks when the call came in. They hadn’t found the little girl that went missing, and despite the eighteen years that passed, he had never forgotten.

  Angie took off her training gear. “There isn’t a chance I’ll be staying here. They better have room for us both on this flight.”

  Noah gave her a wink and immediately called the airline while his right foot tapped as he waited to connect. Dickinson left to find their instructor and turn in the gear.

  His mind spun with the possibilities, and he was ready to re-open the case. This time he would find answers, and the likelihood that the little girl could still be alive fueled hope.

  After eighteen years, he knew Angela’s parents hadn’t given up on finding their daughter, and neither would he.

  Chapter 2

  The next flight from Georgia to Cheyenne wasn’t until the following morning. However, Noah found a direct flight to Denver International Airport that same afternoon. There wasn’t a chance of waiting until the next day. Noah tried to rest during the three-hour flight and go over all the details from the missing child case.

  “I was only gone for a minute! When I turned around, my daughter was missing.” Sergeant Steve Hutchings and Constable Noah Hunter heard the mother scream when they first arrived at the motel. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last time Noah listened to a similar statement from a parent. Those words and that moment in time still resonated eighteen years later.

  The Taylor family was on holiday and passing through Yellowstone National Park. They stopped at the Travel Resort Motel in Arrow Point and would continue their drive the next morning. Leslie Taylor brought in the luggage had let her daughter Angela sleep in the car while her husband, Joe, went to the motel office.

  Leslie had thrown the suitcases on the bed, and when she returned to the car, the door was wide open, and her daughter was missing. The four-year-old couldn’t reach to unbuckle the harness from the car seat, which only left one option. Someone had taken her.

  They had quickly set up a perimeter search, and the highway patrol and the county sheriffs arrived on the scene within thirty minutes. The FBI was called as well. After several days of searching, they slowly called personnel away for other tasks due to the lack of viable leads. The various statements from the witness in the area and the road drivers didn’t provide any credible information. Leslie and Joe Taylor eventually returned to Washington, D.C., heartbroken. Their life and hearts had shattered. Regardless, there wasn’t anything the police could do without new information.

  Noah opened his eyes when the flight attendant asked him to raise his seat fully. They began their descent into Denver, and he looked out the small window at the countryside. The early fall weather had turned the trees brilliant oranges and yellows, and winter would not be far away. The farmer’s fields were bare and ready for spring planting.

  Georgia was humid and warm, but they had to wear a light jacket when they got off the plane. The Colorado autumn weather hinted at an early winter.

  In a rental vehicle, they took Interstate-25 north from Denver. Construction outside of the city slowed them down, but he relied on his badge to get him out of trouble if it came to it, and he quickly made up the time.

  Two-and-a-half hours after they left, the Chevy Equinox nearly sighed in relief when he closed the car door. “Much better than a four-hour drive.”

  Angie stepped out of the car and stretched as the engine ticked. “I think you’ve set a new record.”

  She stood two inches taller than Noah at six-foot-one and had recently cut her long brown hair to shoulder length. Angie looked much younger and had a few problems with her apparent youth despite being twenty-eight. After four years with the APPD, she was the youngest officer promoted to sergeant. Despite her misgivings, she had scored perfect on her exam and was excellent at her job. Noah didn’t hesitate to choose her as a partner, a decision he never regretted.

  Eight hours after receiving the phone call, Noah walked through the police department’s doors, eager to find answers.

  THE FD-258 FINGERPRINT card was standard for background checks through any government agency with the FBI. Noah remembered the application process as part of his police department background check.

  He held the form up to the light and tried to read the blacked-out, redacted text. “Have we verified this with the Feds? Why would that information be left out?”

  Staff Sergeant Steve Hutchings took the form, held it up to the light, and squinted, but he couldn’t see anything. He sighed. “This didn’t arrive through the regular channels. Someone wanted us to see this.”

  The top half of the fingerprint sheet had an area for name, address, aliases, etc. There were only two pieces of information not redacted: the gender marked as female and the state of Florida.

  It arrived with the daily mail to the police station, care of Noah Hunter, with no return address. Since 9/11, the staff sergeant processed all incoming mail and packages as a security precaution. Hutchings ran the prints in their system and got a match within minutes.

  “Do you think it’s real?” Noah handed the form over to Dickinson as he sat behind the conference room table.

  The staff sergeant nodded. “Without a doubt.”

  The prints matched those of Angela Taylor, but as an adult. They had dusted and found a complete set of fingerprints from the four-year-old at the scene, but nothing else. The abductor must have worn gloves.

  “Who do you think sent this? They must have known I worked the case.”

  Hutchings shook his head. “Not sure, but the good news is she’s alive.”

  “Do you still have the envelope it came in?” Angie slid the prints across the table and took out her notebook while Hutchings removed the large manila envelope from a folder.

  She examined the paper at the corner. “This didn’t run through the post office. There isn’t a postal meter. Hand-delivered?”

  Hutchings ran a hand through his short white hair and shook his head. “No. It was in the pile of mail early this morning.”

  “What about this?” One end gaped opened, the other sealed by the sender. “Any chance of prints on the inside?”

  “We can send this to the lab to look for trace, but I wouldn’t put much hope in it. More importantly, this is a solid lead. Review the files and go over the evidence. Start from square one.”