Before Engle had a chance to move, to fire another shot, to dodge out of the way, Zoe brought the flashlight down where she’d last seen his head. The heavy barrel connected with a sickening crunch.
Engle collapsed in a heap at her feet.
Swaying, breathless, and seeing spots from the muzzle blast, Zoe let the flashlight drop. Harry lay bleeding next to the road. Patsy had gone over the hillside. As Zoe struggled to decide who she should tend to first, she heard something in the distance. Wishful thinking? Or a car on this deserted back road? The sound grew louder.
The car squealed around the bend, the headlights blinding her. But not before she made out the red and blue emergency lights. Arms outstretched, she staggered toward Harry and flagged down the cavalry.
Thirty-Three
The reality of what Pete had almost lost and what he may lose yet, weighed heavier on him than if he’d tried to carry one of the horses at Zoe’s barn on his shoulders. The world swirled around him in shades of blue and red. He leaned on his crutches behind one of the three Monongahela County ambulances that had responded to the dark country road. Inside, a trio of paramedics worked on Harry, who looked horribly pale under the bright interior lights of the medic unit. Pete wanted to be in there with his father, soothing him. But the medics had ordered him—nicely—to give them space. Besides, Harry was unconscious, the blood loss, immense.
Pete shifted the crutches and turned to look for Zoe in the crowd of fire fighters, emergency medics, and police swarming the scene. One of the medics with a different crew slammed the back door of a second ambulance and pounded on it with his fist. The rig lurched forward and pulled away, carrying Wilford Engle to the hospital. One of the county police vehicles, in which Froats was riding shotgun, fell in behind. Engle, also unconscious with a head injury, would be kept under close guard at the hospital.
Firefighters gathered at the guardrail. They’d set up a generator and lights to illuminate the wooded hillside and ropes to lower rescue workers over the side. Pete spotted Zoe standing near the search and rescue team, talking to Baronick, her fingers pressed to her mouth.
Pete thought of the drive here with Froats and Baronick. The heart-pounding terror of what they would find at the scene where Gary Chambers had died decades earlier. Froats had been right, the old cuss. They’d careened around that last bend on the dark road, their headlights falling on a white pickup at the berm, Zoe in the middle of the road waving, and a heap that turned out to be Harry lying on the yellow line.
Harry and Zoe. Pete had come so close to losing both of them. For the second time, he’d arrived too late to rescue Zoe from a crazed gunman. Both times he thanked God that Zoe had managed to defend herself. She was a hell of a woman. Pete heard Harry’s words in his mind. You should marry that girl. At the very least, he should convince her that being “just friends” wasn’t going to cut it.
A hand touched Pete’s shoulder. Flinching, he turned to see one of the paramedics who’d been working on Harry. “Is Pop going to be all right?”
The young man’s solemn face did little to offer optimism. “We’ve done all we can for him here. I wanted you to know we’re transporting him to Phillipsburg. Life Flight is coming in and will land on that field behind the ambulance garage. From there, they’ll take him to Allegheny General.”
Pete took an unsteady hop toward the medic unit. “I’m going with you.”
The paramedic blocked him. “You can’t, Chief. There isn’t room in the helicopter. You’ll have to catch a ride from someone else.”
How many times had Pete said the exact same words to a distraught family member? He growled deep in his throat, but nodded. “Tell him...tell Pop I love him and I’ll see him soon.”
The paramedic gave a quick nod and was gone. Within a minute, the back doors were closed and the vehicle pulled out, jouncing over the ruts.
A whoop went up from the woods. The firefighters and rescue crew cheered. “We got her! She’s alive!”
Baronick put an arm around Zoe, and she collapsed against him.
Zoe in Wayne Baronick’s arms? This was not good.
Clenching his jaw, Pete hobbled over to them.
Zoe must have seen his approach. She pushed free of the detective and turned. “How’s Harry?”
“They’re Life Flighting him to Allegheny General. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
She swiped a hand over her face. “I’m so sorry, Pete. I tried—” Her voice broke.
Baronick reached for her, but Pete threw down his crutches and pulled her into his arms. “You probably saved his life,” he whispered into her hair. “I owe you.”
She hiccupped. “I almost got him killed.”
Pete held her tighter. “How do you figure that? Wilford Engle is the only one responsible for any of this.”
“But if I’d kept a closer eye on Harry, maybe—”
Pete shushed her. Cupped her face in his hands and drew it back so he could look at her in the harsh emergency lighting. “You couldn’t have stopped Engle from taking him. And you did find him.” Pete would save scolding her about playing hero for another time.
Her face was a study in anguish. “Pete, you don’t understand. He saved me. Wilford Engle was going to shoot me. Harry took the bullet that was meant for me.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. That was my pop. Superman. The man I grew up wanting to be like. The reason I became a cop. I’d thought I’d never see that man again.”
She gazed up at him. The guilt and agony melted from her face.
“Even if—” Pete’s voice caught. He swallowed and tried again. “If he doesn’t make it, my pop will have died a hero. Because he adored you. In the shape he’s been in the last few years, that’s a helluva way to go.”
Zoe managed a timid smile. “He’s a hero either way. Like father, like son.”
Another cry went up from the crew at the guardrail as Bruce Yancy barked orders to the man inside the truck, running the winch. “Bring her up. Slow.”
Pete and Zoe turned to watch. He kept a protective arm around her shoulders, and she slipped her arm around his waist.
Pete shot a challenging glance at Baronick who gave him a nod and headed off to watch them haul Patsy Greene up.
“Patsy is Mae Engle’s daughter,” Zoe said.
“What?”
“She figured it out and told Wilford in the midst of everything. I think she hoped it would save us. Him knowing she was his niece. Instead, all he reacted to was that she was Vernon Miller’s daughter. The reason Mae was dead. And he threw her over the hill.”
Pete struggled to grasp this latest development. “Are you sure she’s Mae and Vernon’s daughter? Maybe she just said that to distract him.”
Zoe shook her head. “Wilford mentioned that Mae had died in childbirth forty-four years ago Friday. That’s Patsy’s birthday. She’s been planning a big barbecue at her place. When she told Wilford, he flipped out on her.”
“Huh.” Pete rolled it around in his brain. “That makes her your cousin.”
“I was thinking that, too. Second cousins, I guess.”
Two firefighters appeared at the edge of the precipice, guiding a rescue basket. Inside, Patsy lifted one arm as much as the straps would allow and waved. Another cheer went up from the rescue crew.
Pete felt Zoe pressed against his side, shaking. He thought she was crying again. But then he realized she was laughing. “What’s so funny?”
Zoe shook her head. “I don’t think Patsy’s had a chance to think about her new family connections yet. Otherwise, she might have told them to leave her down there in the woods.”
Confused, Pete gave Zoe a questioning look.
She grinned up at him. “I’m Patsy’s second cousin. That means she’s first cousins with...”
Pete finished the sentence for her. “Kimberly.”
Zoe sat on the cool grass next to the fresh grave, mindlessly picking the thorns from the stem of one peach rose. Overhead, white billowing clouds drifted in a clear blue sky, finally void of humidity. She breathed in the scents around her. Damp earth. Delicate flower. A touch of cedar from the nearby tree.
Almost three weeks had passed since the awful night at the side of the road. That spot where one vindictive, evil man, so desperate to eliminate all witnesses to his chain of crimes had wreaked havoc yet again. At least now his secrets were out. Wilford Engle would never spend another day as a free man as long as he lived, which likely wouldn’t be long. She’d heard he’d been diagnosed with lung cancer.
Behind her, tires crunched on the road that looped through the cemetery. The car stopped. The engine stilled. A door opened and closed.
She laid the rose on the mounded earth, which hadn’t had time to settle yet. “I’m so sorry,” she said to the ground and the heavens, hoping her regrets reached their intended recipient.
The grass rustled as uneven footsteps approached. She didn’t look up. One brown leather shoe and one plastic and Velcro boot stopped next to her.
“I figured I might find you here,” Pete said.
She looked up, squinting into the sun. “I needed to say goodbye. Just him and me.” She shifted onto her knees and reached out to touch the granite plaque set into the ground at the grave’s head. Traced the name. Gary Chambers. “I love you, Dad.” Choking back all the emotion of knowing her father really did rest in peace, she climbed to her feet.
Pete caught her hand. “Have you talked to your mom?”
“No. I tried. I’ve called, but just get the machine. I leave messages.” Zoe shrugged. “So far, no one’s called back. Patsy’s been in touch with them, though. She’s planning to fly down there in a couple of weeks.”
One corner of Pete’s mouth tipped up. “That should be an interesting trip.”
“Interesting? Yeah. And did you hear? James Engle left his farm—the Miller farm—to my mom.”
“What’s she going to do with a farm?”
Zoe shrugged. “Beats me.”
They stood in silence, listening to the cicadas in the distant woods. After a few moments, Pete asked, “Are you all right?”
She forced a smile. “No. Yes. I will be.” She studied him. Longer than she used to allow herself to maintain eye contact with him. There was something going on behind those ice blues, but she couldn’t make out what. He seemed...sad. Haunted. “What about you? Are you all right?”
He huffed a laugh and looked down. “The hospital released Harry today.”
“Oh?” Zoe thought he’d be happier about that.
“Nadine picked him up. Took him home.”
“And by home, I gather you don’t mean your house.”
“Nope.”
Zoe intertwined her fingers with his and bumped his shoulder with hers. “I thought you were looking forward to your sister taking him back.”
“I thought I was, too. But I kind of got used to having him around.”
“He’s one tough old buzzard. Took that bullet and bounced back like a superhero.”
“That’s exactly what he is.” Pete grinned. “He saved the girl. I came in after it was all over.”
“You sound like you’re jealous.”
The grin faded. “I almost lost you both.”
“But you didn’t lose either of us. I’m still here.” Zoe looked down at the grave. “You can visit your dad any time you want.”
Pete pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. “And I will. Care to come with me? The orthopedist said I can drive.”
She leaned against him. Inhaled his woodsy fragrance. “I don’t know. What’ll Harry think if we show up together?”
“What he already thinks. That you’re my girl.”
Zoe laughed. She stepped back, but Pete held onto her hand. “I shouldn’t have let him keep thinking that,” she said. “I should’ve convinced him we’re just friends.”
“You should consider yourself lucky he knows who you are at all.” Pete turned to face her squarely. Hooked one finger under her chin. “And now that you mention it, I want to talk to you about this whole just friends thing.”
Zoe stared at his mouth, aware of her heart doing the rumba inside her chest. “What about it?”
He leaned down and kissed her lips. She melted against him, closing her fingers around the fabric of his shirt, not trusting her legs to hold her.
When it ended, he said, “I think we need to renegotiate.”
“That can be arranged.”
“How about over dinner?”
“Okay.” Zoe smiled and thought her dad—and Harry—would approve.
About the Author
Annette Dashofy, a Pennsylvania farm gal born and bred, grew up with horses, cattle, and, yes, chickens. After high school, she spent five years as an EMT for the local ambulance service. Since then, she’s worked a variety of jobs, giving her plenty of fodder for her lifelong passion for writing. She, her husband, and their two spoiled cats live on property that was once part of her grandfather’s dairy. Her short fiction, including a 2007 Derringer nominee, has appeared in Spinetingler, Mysterical-e, and Fish Tales: the Guppy Anthology. Her newest short story appears in the Lucky Charms Anthology.
In Case You Missed the 1st Book in the Series
CIRCLE OF INFLUENCE
Annette Dashofy
A Zoe Chambers Mystery (#1)
Zoe Chambers, paramedic and deputy coroner in rural Pennsylvania’s tight-knit Vance Township, has been privy to a number of local secrets over the years, some of them her own. But secrets become explosive when a dead body is found in the Township Board President’s abandoned car.
As a January blizzard rages, Zoe and Police Chief Pete Adams launch a desperate search for the killer, even if it means uncovering secrets that could not only destroy Zoe and Pete, but also those closest to them.
Read all about it and/or grab the book from Amazon
CLICK FOR CIRCLE OF INFLUENCE
Don’t Miss the 3rd Book in the Series
BRIDGES BURNED
Annette Dashofy
A Zoe Chambers Mystery (#3)
Paramedic Zoe Chambers is used to saving lives, but when she stops a man from running into a raging inferno in a futile attempt to rescue his wife, Zoe finds herself drawn to him, and even more so to his ten-year-old daughter. She invites them both to live at the farm while the grieving widower picks up the pieces of his life.
Vance Township Police Chief Pete Adams, of course, is not happy with this setup, especially when he finds evidence implicating Zoe’s new houseguest in murder times two. When Zoe ignores Pete’s dire warnings, she runs the very real chance of burning one too many bridges, losing everything—and everyone—she holds dear.
Available April 2015
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