“Show your hands!”
Quick as a snake, the suspect brought a knife around and missed Chloe’s cheek by a fraction. She launched herself backward as he sprang to his feet. The crack of a gun sounded behind her. Another cry from the man in front of her ripped through the air. Blood sprayed from the wound in his shoulder. His heels hit the edge of the roof.
“No!” Chloe cried. She lunged for him and her fingers grazed his foot as he disappeared over the side.
A hard hand on her belt was the only thing that kept her from losing her balance and going headfirst after him. Chloe heard the sickening thud as the shooter landed on the concrete below. Bystander screams reached her and her knees went weak.
She slid to the gravel. Hank hurried to her side.
“You okay?” Blake asked while Hank tried to get closer.
“Yes. Just a little shaky.”
“Understandable.”
She pressed her palms to her eyes for a moment. Hank settled his nose on her shoulder and she instantly took comfort from his furry presence. Drawing in a breath, she let it out slowly. “Nice shooting.”
“Wasn’t me.”
“It was me.”
Chloe looked up. The officer with the Kevlar vest and the dark hair looked vaguely familiar. Quinn something? She’d seen him a few times at some stings when Hank had been called in to do his thing.
He stepped closer. “Detective Quinn Holcombe. I saw you two heading this way and followed.”
Other officers poured onto the gravel roof.
Chloe met the detective’s eyes. “I’m glad you did. Thanks. I’m Chloe St. John. This is Deputy US Marshal Blake MacCallum.”
Detective Holcombe waved to the others that everything was all right. “Any relation to Linc St. John?”
“I plead the fifth.”
His eyes glinted for a moment before the brief flash of humor faded and grim intensity took its place. He walked to the edge and looked over.
“He’s dead,” she told him. She didn’t need to see it, she’d heard it.
“Yep, he’s definitely very dead,” Detective Holcombe said. She caught the flash of grief before he covered it up, and her heart went out to him. She’d never shot anyone and prayed she never had to. Killing someone was a heavy burden. No matter that the shooter had brought it on himself.
“Anyone else hurt?” Blake asked, placing a hand on Chloe’s shoulder.
Hank whined and nudged her. She scratched his ears reassuring him that she was fine.
“I don’t know,” the detective said. “Don’t think so.”
Chloe gathered her strength and lifted a hand to Blake. “Let’s go find out.” He grasped her fingers and she let him help her to her feet.
9
Blake, Chloe, Detective Holcombe, and Hank made their way back down the stairs to the lobby level, empty except for law enforcement. Blake looked for other victims. When he didn’t spot any bodies or blood, he released a breath. Maybe no one else had fallen victim to the shooter’s bullets. Except Jo. And her vest had probably saved her life. He headed to check on her, but stopped when Izzy hurried over to them. “Guess you found the shooter.”
“Hank did,” Chloe said.
“And Detective Holcombe shot him before he could kill Chloe,” Blake said.
Izzy blanched and Blake wished he’d softened the news a bit. Twice in one day his words had gotten past the filter. He was going to have to work on that.
“Actually, Blake was the one who saved me from going off the roof,” Chloe said.
Another flinch from Izzy. She held up her hand. “That’s all I need to know. I’m glad you’re okay. Don’t tell Mom about any roof diving. She still hasn’t recovered from my death-defying experiences. On another note,” Izzy continued, “first responders are here, but they won’t be any help to him. Do you know who he was?”
“I’ve never seen him before,” Blake said.
Chloe shook her head. “I only got a brief look at his face before he went over. I don’t recognize him either.”
“I’ve got to check on Jo and Judge Worthington,” Blake said. “Excuse me.”
“She’s in an ambulance,” Izzy said.
Blake stopped. “And the judge?”
“He’s secure and has two deputy marshals on him.”
Okay, that was two things he could mark off his worry list. For now.
“Blake.”
He turned to find Linc and his partner, Special Agent Travis Richfield, bearing down on them. “Good job,” Linc said.
“Kudos go to Hank and Detective Holcombe here.”
“Quinn,” the detective said. “And I was hoping to take him alive, but he wasn’t of the same mind.”
“Yeah.” No one was going to shed tears over the loss of the would-be killer. Linc turned to his sister. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“And Hank?” He scratched the animal’s ears. Hank edged closer, encouraging him to continue.
“Happy with himself. He did his job too.”
Linc nodded. “Travis and I are talking with other witnesses, but, as usual, stories are scattered and inconsistent. We’ll focus on the consistencies and go from there.” He eyed Blake. “As much as we can figure he somehow got his hands on a badge with his picture. Fake name, but the badge is real enough. He passed through security with no issues.”
Chloe bit her lip. “This whole thing screams inside help.”
Linc raised a brow. “Thanks, we’ve come to that conclusion as well.”
Blake thought Chloe might stick her tongue out at her older brother, but being the professional she was, she refrained. He knew she wanted to, though.
“I’ve got to go do all of the shooting protocol paperwork and figure out what I’m going to do with myself for the next few days,” Quinn said with a sigh. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do,” Blake said.
An officer, wearing the SLED logo on her vest, approached Linc. “Are you Special Agent in Charge Linc St. John?”
“I am.”
“I’m SLED Special Agent Jessie Parrish.”
SLED. South Carolina Law Enforcement Division. The two shook hands, then Linc introduced Blake and Chloe. “What can I do for you?” Linc asked.
“We’ve just gotten notice that the name on the badge the shooter used is legit. Matthew Neighbors is a guard here. But he doesn’t look anything like the shooter.” She passed her iPhone to Linc to take a look. Blake peered over his shoulder. Definitely not the shooter.
“So, where’s this guy?” Linc asked.
“We’re looking for him. He’s not answering his phone, but his wife said he left for work this morning, just like every day.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Chloe muttered.
Blake raised a brow and Linc frowned. “What do you mean?” Linc asked.
“Is there anything that belongs to this man that Hank could use?” Chloe asked.
“Why? You want Hank to track him? You think he’s here in the building?” Blake said.
“Yes. Don’t you?”
He sighed. “I’d say it’s a distinct possibility. Which would mean our shooter came in through security with no weapon. Found the armed guard and took his weapon.”
“And his uniform.”
“But not his badge,” Linc said. “Our shooter had that made long before he got here.”
“This was a well-planned attack,” Chloe said.
“But why, when they had Rachel?”
“Backup,” Blake said. “And when she escaped, they decided to go with Plan B.”
“All right,” Linc said, “let me get someone who works here to show us where employees stash their stuff while on the job.” He pulled his phone out and dialed a number.
Within a minute, a courthouse employee hurried forward. He shook hands as he introduced himself. “I’m Danny Frank with First Defense Security. My company is in charge of the courthouse security here. I’d apolo
gize more if I thought it would make a difference, but it won’t.” His pale face and tight jaw said he wasn’t happy at all with the incident. “Just tell me what I can do to help.”
“Can you show us where employees would leave personal items and such while working?” Blake asked.
“Of course, follow me.”
He led the way down the stairs to the basement and swiped his card across the pad. The lock clicked and he pushed the door open. Empty, the room echoed with their footsteps as they crossed the floor. Danny looked at his phone. “Says here, his locker is number 56.”
“Combination?”
“No, he’s got a padlock. Uses a key.” He tapped the screen. When he looked up, he nodded to the far end of the room. “Over there. I’ve got someone bringing a tool to cut the lock off.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand this. I don’t understand where we went wrong or where the gap was in security.”
“There always seems to be a way around the tightest security,” Blake murmured.
Chloe raised a brow but didn’t comment. Hank shifted at her side, restless. She placed a hand on his head and he settled.
The door opened and an officer dressed in tactical gear entered. “Here you go.” He hefted the bolt cutters. Blake took the device and hooked the ends around one side of the lock. He squeezed and the hasp split apart.
Blake handed the tool back to Linc and opened the door. Matthew Neighbors faced him with the blank stare only the dead had. The black hole in his forehead told a lot of the story.
“Blake?”
He stepped back. “Guess we don’t need Hank for this one.”
10
Rachel took one more step, then sank to the log on the ground beside her. She’d been walking forever and was cold. Very cold. The sun tried to reach through the trees but wasn’t having much success.
The old horse blanket around her shoulders helped, but the temperature had dropped with each passing hour, and now she sat shivering, the dark woods pressing in on her from all sides.
She had no idea how far she’d gone or even in which direction. Who knew there was this much wooded area thirty minutes outside of Columbia?
Think, Rach, think.
She’d followed a path. At least a rough one. But it had been a path. Surely it had to lead to somewhere.
“And you’re not going to get anywhere sitting here like a bump on a log.” She sighed. “Pun intended.” She couldn’t laugh at her misplaced wit. And she didn’t dare cry because she’d never stop.
So she stood and continued her trek on the sort-of-maybe-path. Truthfully, it did look like someone had cleared it at some point, but it had grown back over from lack of use. Placing one foot after the other, she kept walking, praying for the end of the trees. However, they seemed to go on forever.
Was Blake looking for her? Was he worried about her? She shuffled, her heart heavy, grief mingling with the fear that had been her constant companion for the past week. He seemed to care, but she knew he didn’t. She’d found the proof shortly after she’d moved in with him.
So, why the act? Why would he be so frantic on the phone? Why race to the hospital?
Or was it an act?
She scoffed. Of course it was. He’d turned down the opportunity for full custody when presented with it. So . . .
Rachel sighed. She was so confused. And hungry. So very hungry. She’d eaten the second protein bar a good hour ago. Thankfully, she’d found a small creek with flowing water and that quenched her thirst. She figured since it was moving, it wouldn’t be stagnant and give her some kind of parasite. She hoped so anyway. Her stomach rumbled. She wanted a hamburger and fries and a shake.
A branch snapped behind her and she spun to see nothing.
She slipped off the trail and scrambled behind one of the large oaks that towered above her. Heart crashing in her chest, she held her breath, waiting. Listening.
Another crunch of dried wood. Then another. Whoever was out there wasn’t even trying to be quiet. Rachel peered around the edge of the trunk and spotted the doe munching on green leaves.
Her breath whooshed out and she let her forehead fall to her upraised knees. Tears sprang to her eyes and she stuffed a fist into her mouth to keep the sobs from escaping. God, why is this happening? Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?
“‘Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.’” She whispered the verse aloud, wondering how she’d pulled it from the recesses of her memory. Probably all those times her mother had dropped her at some summer church camp. “‘I will fear no evil.’” This time her voice rang stronger, but the words didn’t penetrate.
Because she did fear evil. She feared it very much. She was terrified of the men who’d taken her and still held Lindsey and the others. She wanted to sink into the ground, pull the horse blanket over her head, and sob out her anger and fear.
But more than that, she wanted to see the men, the people doing this to girls like her, punished.
And that wasn’t going to happen if she didn’t get up and push on. Just like with swimming. Each time she pushed herself to go farther, dig deeper into the water with her strokes. Each time she succeeded, the rush was there. With swimming, she very rarely failed. The gold medals hanging in her bedroom testified to that.
But this was different. This was life or death. No lifeguard was standing by ready to jump in and save her. Nope. This one was on her.
Rachel stood . . .
. . . and walked.
One foot after the other.
Until, finally, she saw a break in the trees ahead. Heart in her throat, with renewed energy, she pressed forward, pushed through and came to a stunned halt.
The back of the barn she’d left earlier this morning loomed in front of her.
“No,” she whispered. “No.” How had she done that? How had she managed to walk in one big circle? It hit her then. The path had simply been skirting the edge of the property. Probably made by the previous owners who liked to walk in the woods, but didn’t want to get lost or turned around.
Despair choked her.
A door slammed in the distance and voices reached her. She raced to the barn and found the back entrance.
She slipped inside and sat down in the warmest part she could find. Smoky Hope joined her, and with tears streaming down her chilled cheeks, Rachel curled under the blanket and closed her eyes.
11
Chloe scratched Hank’s ears and stood back while the medical examiner followed the paramedics rolling the poor security guard’s body from the employee room. The crime scene unit had arrived and were doing their thing.
Even though the shooter was dead, they would cover the area with a fine-tooth comb since they had to prove the guy was also the killer of the guard and had been working alone. Chloe was almost 100 percent sure of that fact, but wouldn’t bet her career on it. Neither would anyone else.
Security footage would help determine a lot of things once they got a chance to take a look at it. She spotted Blake checking his phone, then putting it away with a stony expression. No word on Rachel, she assumed. Her heart went out to him. As devastated as she had been at Penny’s disappearance, she couldn’t imagine the emotions and pain going through him right now. And every second of every day that Rachel remained out of reach, she remained in danger.
Blake caught her eye. “I’m going to go check on Jo.”
“I’ll go with you.”
They made their way back up to the lobby of the courthouse. As they got closer, Chloe could hear the strident voice of a young woman coming from the door. “He’s my father! Let me in. I have to check on him!”
“That’s Paula,” Blake said and picked up his pace.
Chloe rushed after him.
Blake reached Paula just as the cop she was shoving against looked ready to cuff her. No telling how long he’d been holding her back. The woman’s blonde hair had probably started out
in a stylish bun, but now strands hung down around the sides of her face and one piece trailed over her shoulder. She wore a two-piece gray suit with a pencil skirt and matching gray pumps.
“Paula?” Blake called.
She froze, her eyes widening, then locking on his. Chloe recognized intense relief when she saw it. “Blake! Tell them to let me in.”
Blake stepped in and grasped her elbow. “I’ve got this,” he said to the officer.
“You’re welcome to her.”
“Paula, come here, please,” a deep male voice said.
A large man with emerald green eyes stood on the other side of the crime scene tape. Miles. He and Paula must have rushed over as soon as they heard about the shooting. And if the news vans were any indication, there’d been no time wasted in airing it. Chloe had yet to meet the man in person, but she recognized him from the family photos she’d studied when trying to familiarize herself with every facet of the investigation.
Paula hesitated, then stomped to her fiancé’s side, arms crossed, lower lip pushed out like a petulant child.
Chloe followed Blake, Paula, and Miles outside. She’d gotten past the yellow crime scene line. Chloe frowned. She should be arrested. Then again, she was obviously frantic with worry about her father.
“Your dad’s fine,” Blake told Paula. “He’s with two marshals and locked away in a safe place until everything calms down.”
Paula stilled. “He’s fine?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?” Miles demanded.
Blake flicked him a glance. “I’m positive. I was there. He wasn’t hit.”
Tears gathered in Paula’s hazel eyes. “He was the target, wasn’t he?”
“He was, but they didn’t get him.” Blake paused. “And the person who pulled the trigger is dead.”
Paula’s tears faded and she sniffed while she rummaged in her purse for a tissue. “The guy who took a nosedive off the roof?” She dabbed the moisture under her perfectly made-up eyes.
“That’s the one.”
She nodded. “Okay then. So, my dad’s out of danger now? He can go back to living a normal life without people constantly invading his space?”
Called to Protect Page 10