"Used to getting what he wants."
"Well, hopefully he'll at least consider David Hartford and/or Harry Faulkner to be threats."
"Dominic made a good point. It has been a long time since the fire. He's seen David and Harry many times since then. If he was a target, why would they be so close to him? Why would they be giving him money? We could be on the wrong track," he said.
"Really? I thought you were pretty convinced about the track we're on."
"Well, you're very convincing," he said with a smile.
"I wasn't trying to persuade you. I was just following facts, making connections. And I still think the case against one or both of them is strong. They have money, access, and motive."
"They do."
"But?"
"I don't know. I keep thinking about what happened to Dominic's security team six months ago. Maybe there are other reasons someone would want him dead."
"But what would Samantha and Cooper have to do with any of Dominic's overseas projects? That sounds like a completely separate thing."
"They wouldn't. You're right. Let's take a walk. I'm not ready to get back in the car yet."
As they wandered down the path and through the trees, Max seemed quiet and introspective, and she wondered about that. It felt like he was gathering his thoughts, that he wanted to tell her something but wasn't completely sure he should. She didn't like that he had some secret in his head. Whoever he'd spoken to this morning had obviously suggested some other theory to him, one he didn't want to share.
As they neared the lakeshore, she couldn't stand the silence anymore. It was also getting cold, and the afternoon shadows were lengthening. She wasn't going to find any answers here in the woods. Max could wrestle with his thoughts on the way back.
"I want to drive home," she said.
He gave her a surprised look, almost as if he'd forgotten she was there. "What?"
"I feel restless and frustrated, and I'd prefer to drive than sit in the passenger seat. You seem in a more reflective mood, so how about I take the keys?"
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and handed her the keys. "Fine."
"You can talk to me, Max. It seems like you have something to say."
Max opened his mouth to speak, then froze, his gaze fixed on something in the woods to their left.
Before she could turn her head to see what he was staring at, he shouted, "Gun!"
He grabbed her hand and shoved her toward the trees as the sharp crack of a rifle split the air. Max cried out as the bullet caught him in the left shoulder. He stumbled but stayed on his feet, one hand pressed against the wound, crimson seeping between his fingers.
"This way!" She drew her weapon, laying down covering fire as another shot splintered the bark inches from her head.
They ran through the trees, Max stumbling beside her, his breathing ragged. As it stayed quiet, she prayed the gunman was on a different path and further away. Finally, they reached the gazebo, dashing down the path to the parking area.
The two black SUVs were gone—Dominic's security had left with him. Only Max's Jeep remained. She shoved Max into the passenger seat, his face pale and slick with sweat, then jumped behind the wheel.
The engine roared to life as their attacker emerged from the woods—a tall figure in dark clothing, rifle raised. Kara floored the accelerator, tires spinning on gravel as they shot forward onto the mountain road.
"Are you all right?" she asked him.
"It's nothing," he said, his head lolling back against the seat as blood seeped through his fingers, which were pressed against his wound.
It wasn't nothing. He was bleeding badly, and she needed to get him help.
"I'll find a hospital," she said. "Hang in there."
"No hospital. Too public. I'll be okay. It's not a big deal."
