Cold Aim

by Janice Cantore

  He cursed Gage again and opened and closed his hands several times, trying to steady himself and determine how badly he was hurt. He should have told Gage that he didn’t need him, no matter what Cyrus thought. In all the years Ice had been at this, he’d never been the prey. And he didn’t like it.

  He brought a hand to his face and it came back bloody. He took off his jacket and dabbed his face with his shirtsleeve. Looking at his shoulder, he saw the blood was already drying up. He palpated the wound, wincing, but determining that while it smarted, he still had full function. His chest was another matter. It felt as though he’d been hit by a jackhammer. He ran his hands over the divots in the vest made by the buckshot. Every breath hurt. Maybe a rib or two was cracked, but he could breathe, so he figured he’d live.

  Ice put his jacket back on and decided to leave the vest on. He turned his attention to the fence in front of him. It was chain link, with nasty points on top. As he gripped it, pain stabbed his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he determined to ignore the pain and get as far away from this place as he could. He lifted a foot up to climb the fence.

  “Looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle.”

  Ice let go and jumped back from the fence, drawing his handgun.

  A bearded man on the other side of the fence, dressed in camouflage gear, leaning against a tree, stared back at him from behind a raised hunting rifle.

  “Easy, friend, I’m on your side . . . I think. I’ll put my gun down if you do the same.”

  Ice didn’t lower his weapon and he didn’t have the energy to dive for cover. “Where did you come from? What are you doing here?”

  “I was doing a little hunting. I heard gunfire, wondered if someone else got something. Heard you crashing through the forest. You’re lucky you didn’t get mistaken for a bear.” He held his weapon out in a nonthreatening way. “I’ll put this down. Show me a little good faith and put yours down.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “I’ve got something in my pack you can use, but only if you put that gun away. You have other options?”

  Ice considered the question for a moment. Of course he had no other options. He holstered his gun. “Why do you want to help me?”

  The guy shrugged and tilted his head toward the shelter. “Me and the shelter have a history. What just happened? Were you trying to break your lady out?”

  “Something like that,” Ice said, breathing now calmed to normal, trying to figure this guy out, wondering how he could use his help, then get rid of him.

  “Then I’d like to help. I think you’re in trouble, and I kind of like trouble myself. Women are the root of all that troubles a man.” He set the rifle down and took off a backpack. From the pack he pulled out a small pair of wire clippers. In a quick minute, he’d cut a hole in the fence big enough for Ice to get through.

  Ice squeezed through, grimacing at the pain in his chest but working to ignore it. “Thanks, man.”

  “Sure. We better move.” He took a bottle out, opened it, and spread a foul-smelling liquid everywhere.

  Ice stepped back, nose scrunched. “Whoa, what is that?”

  “Something to throw the dogs off if they bring them out.” He finished, secured the bottle, put it back in his pack. “You’re free, on your own,” he said and turned to leave.

  “Wait, I need to get out of here, to the airport.”

  Camo Man looked at him. “Let’s walk, get away from the property line.”

  He started walking and Ice followed. He said nothing, explained nothing, but Ice recognized he was out of his comfort zone and needed to trust someone, even briefly. And Camo Man was obviously in his element. First there was a thin trail; then there wasn’t, but he seemed to know where he was going. Then a trail reappeared, and they could walk side by side.

  Finally Camo Dude spoke again. “The airport? That’ll be tricky.”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  “How much?”

  “Five grand to get me out of here and to the airport.”

  He stopped and stared at Ice. “You have it on you?”

  “Not all of it.”

  “How much you got on you?”

  Ice reached for his wallet. His wounds had stopped bleeding, but they still stung. He grimaced as he pulled the wallet out of his pocket. He had twenty-five hundred-dollar bills.

  “Two grand. Is that enough for a down payment?” He held out twenty bills.

  Camo Dude took them, looked them over, then grinned. “That’ll be just fine. I had something else to do, but it can wait. For five grand, it can wait. We got a bit of a walk ahead—you good for that?”

  “Just get me to the airport.”

  He nodded and turned slightly, picked up his pace, and Ice followed.

  33

  Tess was not lacking a sense of urgency. It took all of her self-control not to rush out and chase the gunman who’d fled to the back of the Scaleses’ property. But even after a year living here, she was in no way an expert at forest searches. She wanted to catch the man without getting anyone hurt—or killed. Already guilt was building. I never should have let Bass shelter Chevy here. I’ve put the whole town in jeopardy. I broke my own rule—I should have trusted my gut.

  After she recovered from the shock of being shot at, Livie Harp was dead set against doing any waiting, and she was a living, breathing characterization of what Tess felt inside.

  “We need to start searching now,” Harp said. She’d been pacing in the kitchen since she came back inside the house. “I saw him head toward the back of the property. It’s fenced back there. We can corner him and catch him.”

  Tense, Tess said, “Cornered means more dangerous. We need a coordinated, orderly, and safe search. I’m not sending people out willy-nilly to get shot by a man who could be lying in wait.” It had taken Steve an hour to get here, but he’d brought three deputies with him so Tess would not need to stretch RHPD any tighter.

  “There’s no rush because there’s nowhere for him to go,” Bender added. “We’ve got Del Jeffers out on the road, Curtis on the far corner of the property, we’re here. The only direction left is into the forest, and from there even on a trail, it’s fifteen miles to the nearest paved road.” He left with a map of the property to wait with the deputy outside the house for the search dog.

  “Right.” Steve Logan nodded in agreement. “If this guy is hurt like you say, he’s not getting through the forest quickly unless he’s Superman. The search dog should be here shortly.”

  Steve had arrived just after the Rogue’s Hollow officers Tess had called in were positioned at their places on the perimeter. Crime scenes and perimeters took time, and it was going on eleven thirty. Besides waiting for the search dog from Jackson County Search and Rescue, they were also waiting for Victor Camus, local hunting guide.

  But Steve’s arrival was not without its own tension.

  He’d pulled Tess aside when he got to the scene. “What do you mean Faith’s Place has been harboring a federal witness?”

  “Steve, I’m sorry. Agent Bass wanted as few people in the loop as possible. I made a judgment call.”

  “Tess, I don’t know that it was your call to make. Bronwyn and Nye could lose their county license over this.”

  Tess hadn’t considered this. “Can we talk about this after the search?”

  He nodded, clearly unhappy.

  Now Tess left Livie in the kitchen and walked to where Steve was finishing up an interview with Takano. The agent’s pain level appeared more controlled since the medics had stabilized her shoulder to prepare her for transport.

  Tess considered the totality of the situation and realized how much she missed Oliver, his counsel, his calming presence. She had let him know what was happening with a brief overview, but he opted to stay at the hospital.

  “Rosita needs me here. Tami is really on the edge. Doctors are warming her up slowly, but it still could go either way.”

  The twinge of irritation she felt was like the rub of
a large, sharp pebble caught in her instep, and it kept jabbing her. He’d chosen to stay with someone else rather than come to her aid. Part of her knew she was being childish, even petty, but with everything swirling around, the knowledge of how much she’d come to depend on Oliver weighed on her.

  “Do you really think you’re any good for him?”

  It was his profession; she’d never be his priority. Caught by surprise at how much the reality of that truth hurt, she almost sucked in a breath. She looked up and saw Steve watching her.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Huh?” She realized she was frowning and chastised herself for letting this personal issue interfere with her game face. “What do you mean?”

  “About this,” he said, waving a hand around the room. “If the situation were reversed, I’d probably have done the same thing, not told you about the witness. I’ll work on the sheriff, explain to him that I agree it was necessary.”

  Tess sighed, relieved beyond belief that no one could read her thoughts. “Thanks.”

  “But we still need to decide who’s handling what.”

  Tess realized he was giving her first choice. “I agree. How about you handle the crime scene here at the house? I’ll oversee the search for the suspect. Would that work?”

  She watched him consider the task. He looked at the dead guy in the doorway, then to Mia Takano on a gurney, and then to Livie Harp, pacing in the kitchen. The only other involved people, Nye and Chevy, were still in the media room. Dr. Peel was on her way. Bronwyn didn’t want Chevy out in the living room as long as the body was in the doorway. Apparently Chevy had been in the room when the big man came to the door. She witnessed the attack on Takano through the front window before being dragged to the media room by Nye. While she hadn’t seen the actual shooting of the big guy, she was rattled by all the gunfire and the attempt to take her by force.

  “Okay. I’ll need to talk to Bronwyn and Harp.”

  Harp stepped out of the kitchen. “Talk away, but be quick about it. We need to get searching.”

  “Why were you here?” Steve asked.

  “I came to help shore up their security,” Harp said. “I knew Chevy was in danger.”

  “I, for one, am glad she was here,” Bronwyn added. “I’m not sure I would have acted quick enough after Mia went down.”

  “She was a big help,” Takano chimed in. Medics were taking her out through the kitchen so as not to have to go over the dead guy in the doorway. They paused to let her finish. “She knew right away that something was off with those two guys on the intercom. Told Nye to be ready to get Chevy into the media room. Then she kept that big guy from getting any farther than the front door.” The medics continued on their way out with the wounded agent.

  “Ms. Harp?”

  “I told Chief O’Rourke I was worried about the girl. I found out she was hiding here by digging around the web. I was certain Cyrus Beck would find her as well.”

  Steve glanced at Tess.

  “She came by my house to warn me last night. But I thought Bass would maybe move the girl and it would no longer be my problem.” She’d quickly explained about the incident at the market.

  Steve nodded, returned his attention to Harp. “How did you find her?”

  “I’m good with computers. It’s how I make my living.”

  “You’re a hacker,” Tess said, realizing now how Harp found Chevy.

  Harp shrugged. “I’m a World Wide Web expert.”

  Tess considered Harp and the crime scene the deputies would handle. The woman was amped up again. It was obvious she’d fired her weapon to protect herself and everyone else in the house. But while everything pointed to self-defense, Tess knew the need for a thorough investigation had not lessened at all. She’d collected Harp’s shotgun, reminiscent of the shotguns Tess had been issued in Long Beach, with a folding stock. And the woman had turned over the hunting rifle and a handgun that she’d also brought to the shelter. It was clear she’d been expecting trouble at Faith’s Place. What else had she hacked? As for all the ammunition, she said that she’d just wanted to be prepared.

  Steve went on to ask Harp to describe what happened, to walk him through how many times Harp had fired her weapon and how the dead guy became dead.

  According to Harp, she’d fired a total of eight shotgun rounds, three into the dead guy and five at the guy who fled.

  “I’m sure I hit him close to dead-on, from about thirty-five feet away. And then again with a couple of pellets. He might not be hurt bad, but he’s hurt.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “Not his face, no. He’s tall, taller than me for sure, and he was wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket. He had a handgun and I think he fired at us at least three times, maybe four.”

  Tess wished Harp had gotten a better look at the man, but a clothing description was helpful. Her attention was drawn outside as more personnel arrived, including a search and rescue dog and Victor Camus.

  “Everyone is here for the search,” she told Steve. “We’ll get going ASAP. I’m switching radio channels.”

  He nodded and switched his radio to the channel she selected. This would allow them to communicate without disrupting or being disrupted by routine radio traffic.

  “Good hunting,” Steve said. “Be careful.”

  “Thank you, will do.” Tess nodded to Steve.

  Livie Harp started for the door as well, but Steve stopped her. “Hang on. Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Joining the search.”

  “No,” Tess and Steve spoke simultaneously.

  Tess nodded sheepishly and let Steve handle it while she continued outside to get the search going. She heard him explain to Harp that the search was a law enforcement issue. Besides the fact that she’d just shot and killed a man and needed to give a recorded statement, her place was not on the search team.

  Harp’s answer was lost to her hearing as Gabe Bender approached.

  “I filled everyone in,” Gabe told her. He pointed to the side of the house. “We’re over here, discussing the terrain. And we found some blood, so the guy is hit. No way to know how badly he’s hurt.”

  Tess zipped her jacket and pulled up her collar as they walked to where Victor stood. The deputy with the dog joined them. It was cold and spitting ice on and off. Altogether a miserable day for a search in the forest.

  Victor studied a map with the dog handler while the dog jerked energetically on his lead. Two more deputies joined them, and Tess had her whole team assembled now.

  “What do you think, Victor?”

  “It’s almost noon. We have daylight for a few more hours. The guy is bleeding, but he’s got the advantage. We could walk into an ambush.”

  “I agree, but he’s armed and dangerous. We can’t just wait for him to surface somewhere. He’s a clear and present danger.”

  “I’m not suggesting we don’t search. I’m just saying we need to be cautious.”

  Tess noted that Victor was wearing body armor. Though a civilian, he was a member of Jackson County Search and Rescue, so he had a lot of police equipment.

  The deputies agreed.

  “I’ll keep my dog leashed. He’s got a scent, but with this weather . . .” The dog handler shrugged. “We should get going ASAP.”

  “Agreed.” Tess nodded.

  Victor pointed out landmarks on the map such as where the property line ended. The entire acreage was fenced—unusual, but a must for Bronwyn because of animals she rescued. Though the plan was that they stay in eye contact, everyone needed to be on the same page about the property layout. No one could get ahead of the dog because that would destroy the scent.

  Once everyone was clear, Tess turned to the dog handler. “We’ll follow you.” She directed the two deputies to the left and wanted Bender on her right, with Victor and the dog handler in the middle.

  They started out with promise, spread out as best they could. The dog hit on a scent right away. An
d they quickly found more blood. The suspect had rubbed against a tree trunk and the rain hadn’t been hard enough to wash it off.

  But then they found the hole in the fence.

  “Look at this,” Victor said. “That is a clean cut.”

  “Hmmm.” Tess studied the chain link. “Either he had help, or he came prepared.”

  “What is that smell?” Bender asked.

  “Smells like death,” Victor noted.

  The dog handler had squeezed through the fence after his dog, who had its nose to the ground but was not moving forward.

  “He poured something on the ground here, trying to confuse the dog.”

  “Will it work?” Tess asked as she scrunched herself through the hole.

  “For a few minutes, maybe. Some guys use pepper spray to confuse the dogs.” He paused, checking the area. “Let’s get away from where it’s concentrated, and we’ll pick the trail up again.”

  They did pick up the trail again as the rain let up. But after nearly two hours, they hit a logging road and the dog began running in circles.

  “He’s gone,” the handler said. “Got in a car or something.”

  Tess looked around. Here it was open. The lack of tree canopy allowed for a direct drenching of rain, and because of that, if there had been a vehicle here, the tracks were gone. But then Victor spoke up.

  “Or something,” he commented as he squatted by some brush. “There was a small vehicle here, maybe an ATV. Your man took off that way, possibly toward Butte Falls, or he doubled back to the Hollow.”

  “Would that make sense?”

  “Not sure, just telling you what I see.”

  Tess frowned. “I don’t believe this guy was that prepared with an ATV hidden in the bushes. He had help—he had to have.”

  The deputies agreed.

  Tess grabbed her radio, wet, cold, defeated, and drowning in guilt. All she could do was let everyone know that the shooter had escaped their perimeter. He was armed and dangerous, but where on earth could he go?