Procedure.
But if this was a trap, then the sniper was the one calling the shots. Literally. Because when backup or the ambulance arrived in the next couple of minutes, that would put them in the line of fire, as well.
If it comes down to a situation where someone negates the rules, trust Katelyn, Brayden had said.
All in all, it was damn good advice.
“What does your gut instinct say about this?” Joe asked her in a whisper.
Katelyn blinked, probably surprised that he’d put this on her shoulders, but he was positive her shoulders could handle it.
She glanced at the blood again. “I don’t think Donovan’s the sniper. He wouldn’t have gotten this close because he doesn’t trust me not to kill him on the spot. My guess is he’s the bait. And I think if we open that door, then someone will open fire on us.”
Joe nodded. Everything she said made sense. So he had his answer, and he took it one step further.
Moving back to the window and without touching the blinds, he looked out into the parking lot for any sign of the person who’d likely shot Donovan and was trying to use the man to draw them out.
“See anything?” Katelyn asked.
“No.”
Well, nothing other than at least three dozen cars, all jammed into the space that separated the two multistory apartment buildings. But a car probably wouldn’t have given the sniper a good view, since their apartment was on the second floor. No. He or she would want to be higher.
Joe’s gaze combed over the masonry fence located at the back of the parking lot. It was a possibility and would provide an escape since there was an alley by it and then a street just on the other side.
But the angle was all wrong.
It was the same for the street on the left. A bad angle, and it was way too visible. This guy liked to stand back, aim and fire. He liked hiding.
That left the three-story apartment building directly across from them.
It was a good deduction, he soon realized. Because Joe caught a glint of something. Just a glimmer of movement.
“Get down,” he yelled to Katelyn. And he dove for the floor.
Right before the shot came crashing through the window where he’d been standing.
KATELYN HIT the floor, sheltering her face and eyes from the flying glass. Joe did the same, but in their scramble to get away from the gunfire, they ended on opposite sides of the room.
And worse, the gunfire wasn’t a single shot.
Another quickly followed and tore its way through what was left of the glass. And another. Just like the night in the alley and that day at the church, it was a barrage.
“Those shots are too high to have come from Donovan,” Joe shouted over the blasts.
Katelyn agreed. That meant she’d been right about him not being the sniper.
For all the good it’d done her.
They were still pinned down. Still in danger. But at least the sniper didn’t seem to be shooting at Donovan. Now that she knew he might be an innocent player in this, she didn’t want another bullet hitting him.
“The bedroom,” Joe yelled.
Katelyn kept her weapon in her hands, but she threw open the door so that Donovan could perhaps get inside. He did. Crawling and groaning. And she saw the still-spreading stain of blood on his shoulder and the front of his shirt. No weapon, but even if he’d had one, he was likely too weak to use it.
“The ambulance is on the way,” she told Donovan. “Stay down.”
With Joe yelling for her to hurry, she crawled toward him. Not easily. The bulky dress got in her way. And even after she got into the bedroom, Katelyn discovered it wasn’t much safer than the area they’d just left.
The single window near the head of the bed was taking a pounding as well, and there was glass strewn all over the bedding. She reached over the debris and grabbed their communicators from the nightstand. If they got separated during an escape, they’d need them.
Joe circled an arm around her waist and pushed her into the bathroom. He didn’t stop there. He got them into the tiled shower. A temporary safe haven. But only temporary. Only long enough for them to come up with a plan.
The shots continued through the bedroom window and were already gashing holes in the wall. If the sniper kept the firepower pinpointed, then those bullets would eventually come through the tile.
“How about the balcony?” she asked. “It’s on the opposite side of the building from those shots.”
Joe’s gaze met hers, and she knew it was something he had already considered. And he’d also already dismissed it because of the danger.
“Whoever that sniper is, he or she will kill anyone who tries to help us,” Katelyn pointed out. “The stray shots—”
“There aren’t enough stray shots,” Joe insisted.
Somehow, she heard him over the racket and over the pounding of her heartbeat.
He was right.
There weren’t many strays. The shots were going through the window with much better than average precision, far more accurate than the gunfire they’d encountered at the church or in the alley. This pattern was more like the first shooting.
The one that had killed Gail and her groom.
Katelyn might have taken longer to consider that inconsistency if a bullet hadn’t come through the wall and the tile.
Joe shoved her down with the bits of ceramic and plaster. The deafening noise continued to crash around them.
“We’ll go out the balcony,” Joe instructed. “We’ll climb down the fire escape and circle back around to the edge of the building. I might be able to get a good enough look to pick off the sniper.”
“You think the sniper’s on the roof of that apartment building?” she asked.
“I know he is. I got a glimpse of something before he fired. I’m almost positive he’s on the right side of a huge ventilation shaft where no one can see him from the street.”
And it would also allow the gunman refuge since it’d take a while for the cops to block off that street. Then, he could probably escape over that fence into the alley. From there he’d simply fade into the city.
Unless they stopped him first.
“What do you want me do?” Katelyn asked.
He ducked his head when a shot rammed through another section of the tile. “After we’re on the ground, one of us will need to go to the left of the building.”
For a distraction. A necessary one. If she had the layout of the roof correct in her mind, the left was the sniper’s blindside since he was on the right of the ventilation shaft. That meant one of them had to be the diversion while the other delivered the shot that would hopefully take him out.
“You’ll be the diversion,” Joe insisted.
Because it was the safer of two positions. The sniper would have to leave cover to return fire at the person creating the diversion. But if the shooter didn’t do that, if the ploy didn’t work, then that would leave the person on the right—Joe—in the killer’s direct line of fire.
Oh, God.
It wasn’t a scenario she even wanted to consider. Katelyn would have much preferred to take the more dangerous route herself. In fact, her heart screamed for her to do just that, to protect him at all cost.
But she couldn’t.
She couldn’t.
Because it wasn’t just their lives at stake. Donovan needed medical attention, fast. The medics couldn’t get to him until Joe and she stopped the sniper. If they didn’t stop him, now, he’d continue to fire, he’d continue to kill.
And simply put, Joe was the best shot.
She choked back the sob that threatened to make its way past her throat. But she couldn’t stop the fear. Nothing could do that. Her hand was trembling when she draped the communicator around his neck and did the same to hers.
Katelyn pressed her mouth to his. Something brief but hopefully it said a lot more than words, because they didn’t have time for long explanations.
“Don’t you
dare fail,” she insisted.
His jaw muscles went to war with each other. “You, either.”
That was it as for goodbyes.
But it was enough.
“When we get outside, hurry,” Joe insisted, swallowing hard. “Use every bit of speed that I know you have because I don’t want you out in the open any longer than necessary. Maintain cover and fire a shot or two to get his attention. That’s it. Only a shot or two, and only if it’s safe.”
She nodded. Took a deep breath. And the moment he said, “Let’s go,” Katelyn did.
They stayed on the floor, crawling their way to the balcony. There was a pause in the shots. As he’d done at the church, the gunman was probably reloading or trading weapons. Joe and she used that lapse to their advantage. They went out onto the balcony and climbed over the railing to the fire escape.
“Equipment check,” she said into her communicator.
“I hear you,” Joe responded.
The shots started up again. Another barrage. Another attempt to kill whoever got in the way.
Adrenaline was like a knife cutting through her lungs. The thick humid air didn’t help, either. But she ran, even in the heels and the dress, Katelyn ran as if her very life depended on it. Because it did. And not just her life, but Joe’s. If she blew this diversion, then the sniper would go after him.
That couldn’t happen.
She slowed down as she neared the corner and checked her surroundings to make sure the angle of the shots hadn’t changed. They hadn’t. The sniper was still on the roof, even though she couldn’t see him. Not even a glimpse.
And that was what she had to remedy. She needed him or her out in the open for at least a second or two.
“I’m in position,” she relayed to Joe.
“So am I. You go on three. I’ll go on four.”
“One,” they counted in unison.
“Two.”
“Three.”
Katelyn pulled her breath, darted out from behind the cover of the building. And fired.
So did the sniper.
Right at her.
Chapter Eighteen
It’d happened too fast.
On the count of three Joe had expected to hear Katelyn’s shot, and by the four count, he figured the sniper would come out from cover to take aim at her. By five, Joe was supposed to have already fired a deadly shot that would keep Katelyn out of harm’s way.
He was wrong.
Things didn’t happen as planned.
Katelyn fired. He’d heard that all right. But then, the sniper fired, too. Immediately. Not a second later as he should have done.
A thousand thoughts went through Joe’s head. None good. This was what he feared most. Not losing a promotion. Not blowing a case. But losing Katelyn.
He couldn’t lose her.
“Say something!” Joe demanded into his communicator. And he held his breath.
“I’m okay.”
Those two words were the most welcome two words he’d ever heard. Joe leaned his shoulder against the building and let it support him.
“He missed,” Katelyn added. “I’ll try again—”
“No! He’ll be looking for you. He aimed right at you, Katelyn, and that means he’s not hiding behind the ventilation shaft but he’s crouched down in front of it.”
“Okay,” and she repeated it. “So how about this? I strip off the dress and toss it into the parking lot. It’s big enough and light-colored enough to make a great distraction. When he fires at it, I’ll shoot to draw him out, and then you can do your Robocop thing.”
He didn’t have enough breath left to ask about that Robocop reference, and from the ragged pauses in her own breathing and the sound of tearing fabric, he could tell she was already getting out of that dress.
Joe moved into position.
“On three,” Katelyn said. And she didn’t hesitate long enough for him to change his mind.
“One. Two. Three.”
Nothing.
Then, something.
A blast of sound. From Katelyn’s gun. And once again, the sniper fired right at her without so much as lifting his head. But this time, Joe did see the barrel of the rifle.
“Talk to me, Katelyn,” Joe barked.
She didn’t.
Not one word.
“Talk to me!” he repeated.
“She dove into some shrubs,” Joe heard someone say through his communicator. Not Katelyn. But Garrett.
“Is she all right?” Joe immediately asked.
“Hard to say.”
Not the reassurance Joe needed, especially since she wasn’t giving him that reassurance herself. He consoled himself with the possibility her communicator had been damaged in the fall.
“How about you?” Garrett again. “You have a visual on this sniper?”
“If I did, he’d already be dead.”
But what Joe did have was the next best thing. He knew the sniper’s position. If he aimed just below where he’d seen that rifle, then he could perhaps kill him before he did any more damage.
First though, he had to make sure Katelyn was all right.
“Katelyn?” Joe barked. “If you’re there, talk to me.”
The next few seconds dragged into an eternity.
“We’ll keep monitoring this line, and I’ll do some adjusting to see if we can increase reception so we can contact her,” Garrett explained. “We’re assembling a team to go on the roof, but we’re still a good ten, maybe fifteen minutes out.”
At the moment, ten or fifteen was a couple of lifetimes. They didn’t have lifetimes.
“Make sure that masonry fence is covered,” Joe insisted.
“It is. Don’t worry. If this guy tries to get down, he won’t get far.”
Maybe. But it was a risk Joe didn’t want to take. He wanted to end it here and now—after he made sure Katelyn was safe.
More seconds. Long ones. And just when Joe was ready to break into a run and check on Katelyn, her voice came through the communicator. “Joe, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.” Thank God. He was glad he was still leaning against that wall. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“No way. My communicator fell off, and I had to find it. Are you okay?”
“I am now. Stay put. I’ll get this guy.”
“Wait. That sounds scary. I don’t want the details though,” Katelyn quickly added. “Just please don’t do anything… Mercy, I was about to say dangerous, but it will be. It just will be.”
She was right, and there was nothing they could do about it. “Remember, stay put.”
“Joe, I’m in love with you,” she blurted out.
Okay. So he hadn’t exactly been expecting her to say that. And she likely didn’t know her brother and heaven knows who else was listening in on their conversation. Joe didn’t have to inform her of that, or time to respond.
He saw the rifle again, and he automatically zoomed in on it. He took aim. Shut out everything else. His focus pinpointed to that one spot.
And he fired.
Fired.
Fired.
Silence followed.
The sounds of the city and the nearby street slowly began to penetrate his consciousness. He shut them out as well, all the sounds, all the flurries of movement on the street, and Joe concentrated just on that one spot on the roof. A sign of activity, any activity, and he’d fire again.
“I think you got him,” Katelyn said into the communicator.
“So do I. Maintain your position just in case.”
And if the sniper was indeed dead, then it was all over.
Well, maybe.
“Please tell me you weren’t hurt,” she demanded.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Just a scratch or two.”
Joe cursed. “Our definitions of scratches aren’t the same.” He’d have a medic check her out ASAP.
She paused and Joe could hear her heavy breath. Or was that his? “It’ll either be Fiona or
Dr. Kent on that roof,” Katelyn said. “Because I think all of this was done to cover up the first shooting, those first two murders.”
So Katelyn had come to the same conclusion he had. Not surprising at all. Either Kent had wanted to get back at his ex-wife or else Fiona had wanted to eliminate the happy groom. It explained the reason the first shots had been accurate. Either Fiona or Kent had fired with intent to kill. Everything else had been sloppy, a dangerous facade designed to mask the killer’s motive.
Until tonight.
Tonight had been to eliminate Katelyn and him because they’d obviously gotten too close to the truth.
Heck, the sniper had almost succeeded.
“We have a visual of a body on the roof,” Garrett said through the communicator.
It was the only green light he needed. Joe turned to find Katelyn.
She found him first.
He’d hardly gotten to the back corner when he almost ran into her. They skidded to a stop. Stared at each other. There was indeed a thin scratch on her chin, but other than that, she was fine.
Katelyn launched herself into his arms. He was right there to catch her.
And kiss her.
It was probably their shortest kiss ever.
“Sergeant Rico?” someone immediately called out. Brayden. He was already on the scene, and after another glance, Joe realized he wasn’t the only one. At least a half dozen other officers were there, as well.
With the wedding dress thrown over his shoulder, Brayden approached them and handed it to Katelyn as she eased out of Joe’s embrace.
“The press is here,” Brayden said.
Which meant there’d likely be pictures. She put on the dress—probably because it beat the alternative of being photographed in her slip.
Her brother gave her arm a gentle squeeze and whispered, “Good job.” Brayden said the same to Joe before they were interrupted for an update on Donovan. The man was alive and would be taken to the hospital.
The routine chaos started. The inevitable aftermath of a violent crime. There was the wail of the ambulance coming for Donovan. Shouts. Orders. The smell of gunfire and leftover adrenaline. It wasn’t surprising Joe soon found himself engulfed in it.
Veiled Intentions Page 17