The agent backed up a step but must have held her ground because Gage stopped moving forward.
“I’m not going to turn the girl over to anyone at the snap of a finger. I need more confirmation.”
“According to a judge, this paperwork is all the confirmation you need. Now, where is the girl?”
Uh-oh. Ice tensed. Gage was pushing too hard. He had to sell the con, finesse it, not pound it home. Ice wished now that he was the one at the door. This required a smoothness that Gage surely lacked. It was going all wrong, and he gripped the butt of his weapon, considering his options.
The woman wouldn’t give an inch. “Bass should—”
“This is a court order from a judge. No little peon FBI agent is going to countermand it.”
The agent held up her phone. “You can back off. I’m not letting you get anywhere near Roberta.”
Ice, concerned now, stepped forward, opening his coat, the hand on his weapon tight. He was ready to jump in the fray. If they only had to go through one Fed, it’d be easy. After all, he had no problem with scorched earth, but unease niggled. He knew they hadn’t done enough reconnaissance. Maybe this place wasn’t as poorly defended as it looked. Suppose there was more than one agent?
“I want the girl now! You aren’t stopping me.” Gage was losing it.
“You’re not getting—”
Slap!
The crack of a hand against skin screamed in his ear and he saw the agent jerk sideways, phone flying from her grip. Then Gage grabbed her arm, lifted her as if she were a rag doll, and flung her over the railing and into the yard. She hit with a blunt oomph, shocking Ice and causing him to hesitate as he looked her way, hand still on his gun but gun still in its holster. He knew it was time for all in, but a queasy feeling about this situation suddenly paralyzed him.
Gage cursed, and Ice turned his attention back to the front door. The big man yanked on the door; it must have been locked. Gage drew his weapon. Then he stepped back and brought his foot up, smashing the front door open.
It was Ice’s turn to curse and to snap out of it. Hesitation gone, replaced by adrenaline and anger, he yanked his auto from the holster and moved forward to help Gage. Then it went all wrong.
Boom! Boom! Boom! The unmistakable sound of a shotgun rent the air. The blasts were deafening in his earpiece, and Royal yanked it out, instinctively ducking and looking for cover. Gage seemed to step backward, stagger, and then fall in the doorway.
“There’s another one—another one,” a woman’s voice yelled.
Ice was about two feet from the porch when a figure appeared in the doorway behind the body of poor, dead Gage, and he had the terrifying experience of having a shotgun pointed right at him.
“Drop it!” the agent on the ground screamed from his left, and suddenly Ice found two guns aimed at him.
The shotgun boomed again, and because he was turned slightly, Ice took the blast a little off center. The body armor saved him, but he lost his footing and went down on one knee, struggling for his breath and blinking with the pain. Stunned and disoriented, he fought to get back on his feet and raise his gun and kill the woman in the doorway when she cracked the shotgun open to reload.
The hit had knocked the wind out of him. He fired two shaky rounds in her direction, but his aim was off, and the shots went high, smacking some horns above the door and sending them clattering to the porch next to Gage. The woman with the shotgun ducked back. Now he moved, thinking only about survival. He needed to get back to the car and out of the line of fire.
On wobbly legs he turned toward the car, only to face another weapon. The Fed on the ground fired twice at him, a bullet whistling by his face, missing but impacting the car. Royal jerked away.
He brought his gun up to shoot the Fed, but from the corner of his eye, he saw that the woman with the shotgun had finished reloading and was in the doorway taking a bead on him again.
Scrambling, he lurched to the only cover close, a horse statue off to his right.
The woman with the shotgun fired, hitting the wooden horse square and sending bits of wood into Ice’s face. A sharp pain in his shoulder told him one of the pellets had made its mark outside the body armor. For the first time he could remember, Ice felt cold, hard fear course through him. All he could think was I have to get away.
Another shotgun round smacked into the horse—it wouldn’t shield him for long. Shotgun Annie jumped over Gage’s body and was pursuing him. Ice leaped away, firing his handgun blind, but making her duck, and sprinting toward the side of the house, his only chance to escape. Breath barely back, he dived behind cover with another shotgun blast raining down on him, pellets smacking the corner of the house.
When Ice had hit the ground and turned, he realized his mistake in cutting right. The women had effectively cut off any hope of escaping to the car. He peered around the corner of the house and fired blind as the shotgun barked again.
“Ahh,” he screamed as buckshot tore through the edge of the building and into the side of his face and arm. They now stung like the pain in his shoulder.
He could hear the woman racking more rounds into the shotgun. He barely held on to his gun before turning and sprinting to the back of the property, into the forest, away from the crazy woman and her shotgun. When the shotgun went off again, he was out of range of the pellets.
“I’m getting my rifle,” he heard the woman yell. “You’re dead meat!”
Ice didn’t look back. He needed to get out of harm’s way and regroup.
31
Tess was in Shady Cove, had just pulled into the parking lot of the Maple Leaf, the hotel Jim Smith listed as his residence, when the radio sounded with an emergency tone. She stopped in front of the office, tense and alert.
Shots fired.
And she recognized the address—Faith’s Place. It was now after 8:30 a.m. The drive back would take her at least ten minutes.
Work crew forgotten, she shifted her vehicle into reverse, flipping on her lights and sirens, tires squealing as she merged back onto Highway 62. She heard a sheriff’s deputy, the one assigned to Shady Cove, also indicate that he was en route to assist, but he was farther away than she was.
This had to be about Chevy. Tess now regretted agreeing to keep the sheriff in the dark. It was kind of like the kid taking the car without his parents’ permission. It’s not a problem if he manages to return the car without anyone noticing, but if he crashes the car, then he’s in trouble. Tess felt like that kid, and while her first prayer was that everyone at Faith’s Place was okay, she knew this would be a jurisdictional nightmare.
Lights and sirens blazing all the way from Shady Cove to Rogue’s Hollow, Tess amped up the radio volume, waiting for any update.
“One shooter is down; one fled to the rear of the property.”
“Are any of the residents of the house injured?” Tess asked.
“Unclear at this time.”
“Did someone at the house return fire?” Tess asked. It was then that she found herself behind Bender, also traveling code 3.
“Affirmative,” came the reply from dispatch. “Calling party reports that they fired in self-defense.”
Bender had reached the front gate and it swung open. She guessed someone in the house saw him and opened it.
She killed her siren as she drove through the gate close behind Bender. There was an unfamiliar dark sedan in the drive. Bender parked in front of it, and Tess kept going to block the back.
Off to the right, at the corner of the house, Tess saw a crouching figure, and she realized it was Livie Harp with a hunting rifle, up and ready, as if she had someone in her sights behind the house.
“You take the house,” she called to Bender. “I’m going to see what’s going on over here.” She drew her duty weapon and jogged to Harp. “Is the shooter back there?” she asked.
Harp turned. “He took off up through the forest. I lost sight of him, but I wanted to make sure he didn’t double back. He was hit—c
enter mass, I think—at least once, by a shotgun. It stunned him but didn’t knock him down, so he has to be wearing body armor. And I think I winged him after that.” She stepped back but didn’t completely lower the rifle.
The sheriff’s deputy had joined them. “What type of rounds were in the shotgun? Buckshot?” he asked Harp.
“Double-aught buck.”
“He’ll have a good bruise,” the deputy said, “maybe some cracked ribs, even with body armor.”
Tess considered this. Double-aught buck contained nine pellets, .33 caliber rounds, and she’d seen body armor tests conducted at the range. At ten yards there was no penetration through the vest, but she doubted it felt very good. In any event, she believed that an armed, injured man could be doubly dangerous.
“We need to get after him,” Harp insisted. She was ramped up like a crackhead.
Tess resisted the urge to be influenced by Harp’s energy and run headlong after the shooter. “Where can he go? This property butts up to BLM forest; there’s nowhere for him to go, but there are a lot of places for him to hide in ambush. We need an organized search. And I have to figure out what happened here. What kind of weapon did he have?”
“A handgun, automatic.” Harp blew out a breath, lowered the rifle, and brought a hand to her brow.
Tess hesitated, not wanting to leave Harp alone, but needing to be sure they were no longer in danger from the gunman. The deputy must have sensed her indecision because he offered before she could ask.
“I’ve got this,” he said. “I’ll do a visual survey of what I can, make sure the shooter is in the wind. But if he cuts south, he could reach the road.”
Tess stepped aside so he could have her position at the corner of the house. She moved to deal with Harp, holstering her weapon. She’d already considered the area they’d need to cover for the search. Right now, the bad guy had options, and they needed to eliminate all of them.
“Thanks. I’ll have my people cover the road to the south. Ms. Harp, the deputy can watch here; come with me.” Tess regarded the woman. She needed to get inside the house, regroup with Bender, but Harp was a powder keg.
For a minute, Tess didn’t think the woman would comply, as amped up on anger and adrenaline as she was. But she relaxed and stepped back, grip relaxing on the rifle. Tess held her hand out and Harp gave her the weapon. Tess wondered about the shotgun but wanted Harp unwound before she broached the subject.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Tess asked as they walked toward the house.
“I’ll let Mia tell you. I need to calm down.” She’d begun to tremble, and in spite of the weather, sweat dripped down the side of her face.
They stopped by the horse carving, and Tess saw the divots and splintering from buckshot, which she knew didn’t come from the rifle. Harp read her mind.
“I didn’t fire the rifle. I got it after he ran away. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get back to the house,” Harp said, looking pale and unsure now.
“You’re not in any trouble,” Tess said, now afraid that the woman was going to faint. “Why don’t you sit?” She helped Harp to sit at the base of the statue. “Where is the shotgun?”
“In my car. He hurt Mia.” Harp wiped sweat from her brow and leaned against the horse. “I’ll be okay in a few minutes.”
Tess knelt next to her. “You sure? You’re white as a sheet.”
Harp managed a weak smile. “Never been shot at before.”
“You’re in one piece, so I’d say you did okay. Why don’t you wait here until you feel better?”
Tess watched her for a minute, until color began returning to her face, and then continued toward the house, climbing up on the porch. There was something in the doorway. At first she thought it was a piece of furniture, but when she reached the top step, she saw it was the body of a very large man. She could see Bender inside the house, in the open doorway.
“I went around and came in through the kitchen.”
Tess did the same. Harp’s vehicle was parked in back. The back hatch was open and she saw a shotgun. She touched it—still warm from being fired. She retrieved it, noting that there was a lot of ammunition in the back of the SUV as well. Harp was prepared for war. Did she know ahead of time about the threat to Faith’s Place? Tess pondered that question for a couple of seconds before heading for the house. When she entered the living room from the kitchen, she noted that Bender was on the radio asking for paramedics. “Are the medics for Takano?” she asked.
A harried Bronwyn met her gaze. “Yes, Mia needs to see medics.”
“No, not an emergency.” Mia, seated on the couch, weakly waved a hand. “I’m fine.”
Tess could see the agent was injured. One side of her face looked swollen and she had a bloody rag in her hand. Her right shoulder also leaned at an awkward angle.
“Your shoulder is dislocated,” Bronwyn said. “I’m glad Officer Bender asked for medics.”
Tess nodded to Bender. “Thanks.” She held the rifle and shotgun out toward Bender. “Can you secure these in your vehicle?”
He took the guns from Tess, but she stopped him from leaving immediately.
“We’re going to need more help. I’ll contact Sergeant Logan and see if we can get a dog out here. I want you to notify Curtis to help provide containment and see if Victor Camus is available.”
“We need a perimeter,” Bender said. “Is that where you want me to put Curtis?”
“Yes, south I think. You know the area better than I do. If the guy headed straight to the back of the property, he’s likely to get lost in the woods. We want to avoid letting him slip out somewhere else.”
He nodded. “We might need Del Jeffers as well.”
“Call in whoever and whatever you need.”
“I’ll tape everything off outside as well.” He exited the house through the back door to avoid stepping over the big man.
“Is Livie okay?” Mia asked as Tess approached. She could see that the agent’s shoulder looked painfully out of place. “He ran to the back of the property.”
“Yes, she’s okay. We’ll start a search for the second gunman as soon as we can do so safely.”
Tess pulled out her phone to call Steve but needed a better idea of just what had occurred.
“What exactly happened?” She looked from Bronwyn to Takano.
“He came here saying that he was from the marshal’s office and he was going to take Chevy,” Takano said. She nodded toward the dead man.
“What?”
“That’s what I said. But he had ID, so we let him in the gate—”
“Where is Chevy?”
“She’s in the media room with Nye. She’s shaken but fine,” Bronwyn said, and Tess returned her attention to Takano.
“Like I said, he had an ID and paperwork that looked like the real deal,” Takano said. “You can see the ID; it fell in front of him.”
Tess walked to where the body lay. It was more outside than in, and it blocked the door completely. She noted the gun beside him—looked like a .45—and there, next to it, was what appeared to be a wallet ID. It had fallen open, and she knelt down to look at it, not wanting to move anything until Steve arrived. She could see a picture and a name, Joseph Turner. She couldn’t tell if the picture matched the face of the dead man. If it did, and it was a real ID, someone in Faith’s Place had killed a federal agent.
“It seemed so off that the marshals would suddenly step in like this,” Takano continued. “I called Bass but got his voice mail. I told the guy I had to wait for a call back. We got into it and then he slapped me, grabbed my arm, and threw me off the porch.”
“Where’s the paperwork?” Tess asked.
“I think it’s under him,” Bronwyn said.
“And the second guy, did he have identification as well?”
“No, he never said anything. He stood by the car. I saw him start forward after I got thrown off the porch—that’s when the big guy kicked the door in.” She winced and
repositioned herself. “After I got thrown, I had a hard time drawing my weapon with my off hand.”
Bronwyn picked up the story. “When the door got kicked in, we were ready. I think the first two shotgun blasts hit his chest, but nothing happened. He must have a vest on. But the next one hit him in the face. He went down hard.”
Tess could see some pockmarks around the door that indicated a shotgun blast loaded with double-aught buck, besides the fact that the dead guy’s face was destroyed. The doorframe was also a mess, corroborating Bronwyn’s statement that the door had been kicked in. And the long horns, usually over the door, were now on the porch, next to the body.
“Did you shoot him?”
“No. I was in the kitchen. I had my handgun ready in case the shotgun didn’t stop him.”
Tess turned to Takano.
Takano shook her head. “I was in the yard, trying to get a clear shot on the second guy.”
Tess frowned. “Harp shot him?”
She appeared in the doorway. “Yes, I shot him. It was self-defense. We’d all be dead if he’d gotten in the house.”
32
Ice ran for all he was worth. His chest was burning, and every breath was hard and agonizing, but he had to get to safety. He wasn’t used to being shot at—he’d always done the shooting.
It was all Gage’s fault. Cursing the big man under his breath, he slogged through the terrain. The ground was muddy, and it was cold, hard going. He forced himself through some thick underbrush, sliding in shoes that were probably ruined. The icy rain still falling on and off didn’t help his mood or his progress. But he kept going. The key to avoiding capture was to get as far away from the crime as quickly as possible.
When he hit the back fence, he stopped for a breath. He didn’t hear pursuit, but his ears were still ringing from the gunfire, and his ego stung from the fact he’d been chased away by a woman. Breathing hard from the restriction of the body armor, he holstered his weapon, now wet with blood that dripped down his arm. Figured he’d get hit in areas the vest didn’t cover. He didn’t think he was hurt bad, though the side of his face stung from where a pellet had sliced across his cheek, and his upper arm and shoulder smarted from where a couple more had found their mark.
Cold Aim Page 16