73
Donelson wiped sweat from his eyes. He hadn’t figured on the treehouse being so hot. Once again he parted the flap enough to see through the small opening at the side of the window, and a breeze cooled his face. So far everything looked normal.
He’d had trouble breathing when he saw Mark Lassiter and his dog, but then he reminded himself that without a piece of his clothing, the dog wouldn’t find him.
He checked his watch. Carter would be speaking soon. Donelson touched the cell phone, then sighted the podium with his scope, lining the crosshairs in the center.
Ten minutes and the dam would be history.