FuckingEddie.
No fire or smoke was visible from the sides of the barn. Probably because the chain link enclosures kept out whatever asshole had started thefire.
“Where are you?” Chrisasked.
“In the barn. Sprocket, come.” Hackles raised and a snarl still played at her mouth but the dogobeyed.
“Fuckinghell.”
“Pretty much.” She went back into the tackroom.
“Why are you socalm?”
She tossed storage containers off the shelf, looking for the one that held the promotional merchandise. “Would you rather I be hysterical, suck in a bunch of smoke, and pass out? I don’t really have time for that rightnow.”
“Son of a bitch. I’m fifteen minutesaway.”
“How are you fifteen minutes away?” In a shoe box-sized container she found theI heart Wiggle Buttsbandanas she’d had made for an adoption event and grabbedtwo.
“I was already on my way. Fire department is on the way as well and I’ve got a team working on thekids.”
He must have radioed it in. At least that was one less thing she had todo.
“Gotta go. Gotta get the dogs out of thebarn.”
“Get yourself out, Denise.” His voice was strained and rose at the end, as if he was suppressing his desire to shout ather.
“Yup. That, too.” She ended the call and jammed the phone into her back pocket. Wetting the bandana in the utility sink, she tied one around her hair and one around her face. Some goggles would have been nice, but all she had were shooting glasses and those wouldn't stop the smoke from reaching hereyes.
She considered using the water hose to wet down the doors, but the color and thickness of the smoke made her think they’d doused the wood with some kind of fuel. Pouring water on it would only spread itfaster.
She needed to get the dogs closest to the fire out first. Opening the door to the first stall, she shoved the small pit bull mix away from the dog door leading to the enclosed outside pen. The frantic dog was trying to dig its way out through the concretefloor.
Lifting the hasp, she slid the bolt back. The dog ran out into the pen when she threw the door wide. If shecould—
A crack rent the air, followed by a sharp bark andwhimper.
No. No. No. She took a step back and bent at the waist to look out the small door. The dog lay on its side, a dark spot growing on itship.
Motherfucker shot one of herdogs.
“God damnit!”
She stood and laced her hands on top of her head. Panic loomed, threatening to steal her breath and herresolve.
Think, Reynolds.Think.
Turning in a circle she looked for another way out. She had to get the dogs and herself out safely, but to do that she had to remove the threat outside. Closing her eyes, she dropped her head back. Sprocket lay down on her feet and whined. Whether from the smoke or from the defeat that crept around the edges of her mind, tears formed in the corners of hereyes.
She snapped them open and stared at the empty hayloft aboveher.
Higherground.
Dogs first. She hurried to open all the stall doors. Some of the dogs burst out and milled around in the center of the barn while others cowered in the corners of their stalls. She didn’t have time to coax themout.
A vertical wooden ladder led up to one of the haylofts that ran the length of both sides of the barn. If there was more than one person out there, they’d be set up on either side of the building, waiting for her try to escape. Maybe they thought the dog had been her. Maybe it was a warning. If it was only one shooter, they’d probably circle around, assuming she’d try the otherside.
She paused halfway up the ladder and glanced over her shoulder at the matching ladder across the aisle. Unless they thought she’d assume that and would try again on the same side, instead of crossingover.
