Sierra greeted Mr. and Mrs. Carson with a hug. “Thank you for inviting me to join you before the service.”
Mrs. Carson held Sierra’s hands. “You didn’t need to come. I would have understood.”
“I know. I need to say goodbye to Mindy. I still can’t believe all that has happened this week.”
Tears filled Mrs. Carson’s eyes. “I know what you mean. I feel like I’m living a nightmare, and I just need to wake up and everything will be fine.”
“I wish. Mindy was my best friend. Losing her and...” Sierra couldn’t finish the sentence. Grief jammed her throat. She quickly leaned in and gave Mindy’s mother another hug, finally saying, “I’ll miss her every day.”
“Me, too.”
Someone working for the funeral home approached Mindy’s parents.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Mrs. Carson said to Sierra before the staff member stopped in front of Mr. Carson.
Taylor put his arm around her and headed for the door. “Nash has saved us a place at the back.”
When she entered the chapel, she said, “I want to view Mindy. I appreciate they arranged some time with the family before the funeral.”
Taylor positioned himself behind Sierra in the line to pass the coffin. He kept one hand at the small of her back while he scanned the crowd. She knew that the man stationed at the head of the casket was a plainclothes police officer, identified by the US flag on his lapel.
“Are you all right?” Taylor whispered in her ear when only two people separated her from the casket.
“No.” Again her throat clogged up, and she swallowed several times. She still had to go through the other funerals, especially Kat’s. How was she going to hold herself together for Ben?
One day at a time. God will be with me. I’m not alone.
When she got her first glimpse of Mindy’s face, so peaceful, tears welled up into her eyes, and she could hardly make out her features.
Taylor handed her a tissue.
She turned her head toward him. “How did you know?” She dabbed at the wet tracks running down her face.
“Your body language.”
“I didn’t want to cry in front of everyone.”
“Don’t hold in the sorrow. It’s good to release it. I didn’t, and I should have, especially with TJ.”
His soft words reassured her she wasn’t alone. She clung to them, realizing he’d been there twice.
When she stood in front of the casket and looked down at Mindy, memories of all the times they had spent together paraded across her mind. Good memories filled with laughter and friendship. Mindy was with the Lord now, and He would take care of her.
As Taylor escorted her to the back pew, where Nash was, she swept the crowd, seeing other friends of Mindy’s. She wished she could stay and talk to some of them, but even her coming was a risk. She never wanted to be the reason someone else was hurt. Earlier, unknown to most, the chapel and funeral home had been swept for bombs. She felt better knowing that.
After the family filed in and paid their last respects to Mindy, the service began. In the photos of Mindy’s life shown on a big screen, Sierra was often in them. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying, not always successful, but Taylor was there to hold her hand and give her tissues.
At the end of the service, she slanted a look at him and realized she was falling deeper in love with him.
“We need to leave now.” Taylor took her hand and rose, then led the way out of the pew and chapel.
In the lobby a uniformed police officer hurried up to Taylor. “I just heard the hotel next door is evacuating. A bomb threat. It’s mass confusion. The crowds are swarming all around.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“A bomb. Is this Max’s doing?” Sierra asked when the officer went back outside where he was posted.
“Possibly.”
Nash came out of the chapel, a frown marring his face. “The funeral director just found me and said he got a call about a bomb on the premises. We’re evacuating this building even though it was swept an hour ago for bombs.”
“The same thing is happening at the hotel next door. This is Richardson.” Taylor still held her hand and started forward. “We need to get her out of here and to a safe place. Richardson could be anywhere.”
Nash pointed at an exit door. “This way.” As he led them to the door, he spoke into his comm. “We’ll need support. Keep an eye out for Max Richardson. He could be anywhere. We’re going out the far-right door.”
Sierra glanced over her shoulder at the near-empty atrium. She could hardly drag in a decent breath as her heart thudded rapidly and seemed to expand to encompass her whole chest.
The doors opened to the chapel, and people flooded out into the lobby. A wall of people raced for the exits.
Taylor slowed near the door, inspecting the area outside. Three police officers were nearby in the midst of a mob surging away from the hotel. “Stay close. Don’t let go. The crowd might help us get away without Richardson seeing us. Nash, a police officer parked my car in the convention center lot across the street and was going to get it for me afterward, but that’s not possible now. I don’t even see the guy in the crowd.”
“I’ll be right behind you. We’ll use my car. It’s nearby.”
When Taylor opened the door, a sea of people outside pressed against it in their rush to escape the bomb threat. Sierra and Nash helped to widen the gap, so they could get out. A surge of others behind them squashed Sierra up against Taylor. He wedged his body in the small space and shoved the crowd back enough to slip free with Sierra right behind him, then Nash.
Over the noise of the sirens and people around them, Nash shouted, “We need to go to the back lot.”
Someone slammed against Sierra, sending her into Taylor. She grasped him as her feet went out from under her. Taylor tightened his grip on her to steady her while Nash used his body to protect her. Finally, she gained her footing while still moving forward with the mob.
As Sierra headed for the side of the funeral home, she felt like a salmon swimming upstream. A salmon with a target on its back. A big, burly man treaded on her foot, but despite the twinge that shot up her leg, she gritted her teeth and kept going.
Rounding the building, Taylor slowed and clasped Sierra against his side. “Nash, you take the lead. You know where your car is.”
On this side of the funeral home, the mass of people dissipated. But Sierra was aware that they were still too close to the building. If there was a bomb, it could go off anytime, and there was a strong possibility they wouldn’t survive. Their pace picked up, and she leaned into Taylor the more the pain in her foot intensified. She hurried as fast as she could, trying to ignore it. Taylor readjusted his arm around her to support more of her weight.
As Nash went around the funeral home to the back parking lot away from the river walk, he stopped for a few seconds as he surveyed the area.
“What happened?” Taylor gestured toward Sierra’s foot.
“Someone stepped on it. I’m okay.”
Nash waved them forward. “Black SUV in the second row.”
Sierra came around the corner, being as alert as Taylor and Nash of her surroundings. A stream of people from the hotel crossed the parking lot as well as others from the funeral home.
Crack!
Taylor pushed her back around the corner while withdrawing his gun. The bullet ricocheted off the brick wall while another shot quickly followed the first. As she put her full weight on her hurt foot, it gave out, and before Taylor could stop her fall, she went down onto the sidewalk. Her head hit the concrete at the same time a piercing pain slashed through her flesh.
ELEVEN
“Sierra is down,” Taylor shouted as Nash pulled the trigger on his gun.
A third shot coming from across the street reverberated through the air.
<
br /> Using his body as a shield, Taylor moved Sierra out of the line of fire. He quickly called 911, apprising them of the situation with an active shooter and requesting an ambulance.
Nash moved to where Taylor was with Sierra, using the building as a shield. “I’ve called for backup and told them the direction the shots were coming from. I saw some police officers heading that way.”
“Go with them. An ambulance is on its way. I want this guy caught today.”
While Nash took off, Taylor assessed Sierra’s injuries—a bump on the head, a gunshot wound in the left arm and an injured foot. He took out a handkerchief, which he’d brought in case Sierra had needed something more than a tissue at the funeral, and pressed it over the wound on her arm to stop the bleeding.
One of the police officers who had been out in front of the funeral home ran toward him.
“Lieutenant wanted me to help you.”
“There’s an ambulance on the way. It should be here at any moment. Direct them back here and keep people from coming around this side.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sierra’s eyes fluttered open as the sound of a siren coming closer resonated through the air.
“Sierra, help is on the way. The shooting has stopped.”
Trying to rise up, she moaned. She winced and sank back against Taylor’s hand that cushioned the back of her head against the concrete. She licked her lips. “It hurts.”
“You’ll be all right. An ambulance is almost here.”
She tried to smile, but it faded instantly. “Too much longer—” she closed her eyes for a few seconds, then lifted her eyelids halfway “—I’ll know all the EMTs.”
“Not if I have a say in it.”
The police officer from earlier escorted the paramedics to Sierra. While they worked on her and prepared her for transportation to the hospital, Taylor continually watched the terrain around them. He hoped that Nash and the others caught Richardson. This had to end. Today.
What was it about Sierra that made the man so determined to finish the task of killing her? Had he totally lost it with his wife’s suicide? Or was there a reason he couldn’t let her get away?
* * *
While Sierra slept in her hospital bed, Taylor was looking through more security footage with his computer his dad brought him. This time the video feed was from around the funeral home. Richardson had slipped away from Nash and the other police looking for him. How did he get away undetected? The River Walk was crowded, especially with the hotel and funeral home being emptied of people.
His cell phone rang, and Taylor quickly answered it.
“Each building was inspected from top to bottom. No bombs were found,” Nash said, working the crime scene along the river walk. “How’s Sierra?”
“The doctors took care of her arm. She has a bad concussion and bruised foot from some guy stepping on it. She’ll be staying at least a day, possibly two, depending how her head wound is.”
“I’ll keep you informed. Is a police officer standing guard?”
“Yes, but I’m not leaving tonight. There’s a lounge chair I can use to sleep in, if I can sleep at all. Right now, I’m going through the footage. Richardson’s picture has been plastered everywhere, and we haven’t had a good tip yet. I have a theory. I think he’s changed his appearance enough that it will be hard to tell it’s him. Maybe something on the security video will help me find what he has done.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow unless something important comes up.”
Taylor disconnected the call and stared at the far wall as he contemplated his theory. Changed his appearance how? Something in Richardson’s background nagged Taylor. He opened the file he had on Richardson. He skimmed the man’s history and found what was needling him. Richardson went to college and majored in electrical engineering. He also minored in theater. Too late to call the college, but first thing tomorrow morning, he would. What were the classes he took? Anything in makeup and special effects? So far, he’d been using his best facial recognition software to find Richardson in all the footage he’d been looking at. He needed to consider everything. Not just facial features but height, build, how he walked, mannerisms. He needed to get videos of Richardson to study the whole person.
Taylor went through another thirty minutes of tape, fighting sleep the whole way. Finally, he closed the computer and set it on a chair, then crossed to Sierra, who was sleeping. She looked so vulnerable. He should have been able to protect her. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat. He laid his hand over hers, relishing the connection. If he could trade places with her, he would. She’d been through so much.
In time, his eyelids grew heavy until he couldn’t ignore his exhaustion any longer. Bending over, he kissed her cheek, then made his way to the lounger. The minute he settled into the chair his eyes slid shut, and the blackness swallowed him...
The mob swept Sierra forward toward Richardson, waiting with his gun aimed at her. Taylor watched from the sidelines as the shooter squeezed off three shots. A weight held Taylor in place for a few seconds, and when he finally moved, it was in slow motion, as though others were holding him back. The crowd vanished as she collapsed onto the sidewalk. He tried to reach her, but she was always just out of his grasp. All he could focus on was Sierra staring at him, confused and in pain. Suddenly Richardson appeared above her, and he pointed his weapon at her head. The bullet left the gun as though time was being stretched out, but still Taylor couldn’t reach her. The shot struck her forehead.
No!
Heart pounding, gasping for air, Taylor bolted straight up in the chair. For a few seconds he was confused about where he was. Sweat ran down his face, stinging his eyes as he stared at Sierra in the hospital bed. Alive.
He had to distance himself from Sierra. Now, before he fell in lo—
He shook his head. He’d almost not come back from the despair of losing his wife and son. He would not go through a third person he loved dying on him.
* * *
Sierra opened her eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the slats in the blinds covering the hospital window. When Dallas came into focus, she blinked. “What time is it?”
The Texas Ranger glanced at his watch. “Nine o’clock.”
The jackhammer thudding against her skull made her brain fuzzy. “Monday?”
“Yes.”
“Can you close the blinds? It’s too bright in here.” She ran her tongue over her parched lips and reached toward the table next to the bed for the plastic cup. Her hand shook as she drank the water.
After taking care of the blinds, Dallas approached her. “Here, I can help you.” He took the cup. “Do you want more water?”
“No. I’m fine. Where’s Taylor?” He told her he would make sure she was protected. She had expected him to be here when she woke up this morning. Was he okay? She couldn’t remember everything that happened at the funeral home.
“He had a lead he wanted to track down, but he didn’t want to leave you alone without someone in the room.”
“I thought he said there was a police officer guarding the door.”
“There is.”
“How’s Ben?”
“He’s all right. Besides Robert, Ben’s being protected by a deputy outside the house and one inside.”
There was something she should remember, but it was just out of reach of her mind. Something about yesterday when she was brought to the hospital. The more she tried to recall it, the more her head hurt.
She closed her eyes, trying to picture what happened. A sound like firecrackers going off, followed by pain lancing through her. That was all she could remember. “When’s Taylor going to be back?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here for an hour.”
“Does Ben know I’m in the hospital?”
“All Robert told Ben was that you and Taylor would
be returning later today.”
“If the doctor gives me the okay.”
The door swished open, and a young nurse came into the room. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve had better days.”
The nurse smiled. “I imagine you have.” She handed her a small cup with two pills in it. “You need to take these. It’ll help your headache.”
“How did you know my head felt as though it was split wide open?”
“Just a hunch. Dr. Nail will be here later this morning to check on you.” The nurse showed her the button. “Use this if you need me.”
As the woman turned to leave, Sierra asked, “Where am I?”
“Lone Star Hospital.”
As she watched the door close behind the nurse, the name of the hospital plagued her. Why? She’d worked with several hospitals as the office/insurance manager for the clinic. What was the significance of this one?
* * *
Gotcha!
Taylor sat at his desk in his office at the Texas Ranger Headquarters in San Antonio and stared at the photo he believed was Max Richardson in disguise as he headed toward a car near the River Walk, not far from the funeral home. Leaning forward, Taylor watched as the shooter opened the trunk and put a duffel bag into it.
After spending hours watching Richardson’s videos and going through his pictures Taylor felt he knew how the man walked with a slight limp, favoring his right leg. But also in two videos, he noticed that Richardson squinted when he took his tinted glasses off as though light hurt his eyes, which meant when being outside, the man definitely didn’t like bright sunlight. And yesterday had been sunny.
When Richardson, dressed as an older man wearing dark sunglasses with hunched shoulders to diminish his height and a potbelly to disguise his thin physique, stepped away from the truck, Taylor got a good look at the license plate. He jotted down the number and then ran it through the DMV database.
When Clyde Zoller’s name popped up, a coldness blanketed him. Had it been Richardson at the house across the street when he’d canvassed the neighborhood the other day? He closed his eyes and tried to recall meeting the older gentleman.
Lone Star Christmas Witness Page 15