Gunfire from my back porch had me jerking around. Only one shot had been fired. I ran for my purse and pulled out my gun before heading to the sliding glass door. John lay on the ground beyond my deck, and I could only see his feet. I started to turn to reach for my phone when a woman stood on the other side of the door, pointing a Glock at me.
I froze. If I lifted my hand, she’d shoot. Did I have enough time to jump out of the way?
She motioned me toward her with her other hand. I squinted. It was Kay—the Lordes’ old lady who’d tried to kill me in an accident. The brunette who’d been with Bev. She cocked her head in warning and then turned, pointing the gun at John.
I tucked my gun in the back of my waist and walked to the door, my heart thundering. Panic tried to catch me, to hold me still, and I shoved it away to slowly open the door. “What are you doing?”
She pointed the gun at me. “I’m not going to let you kill me.”
I walked onto the deck and felt the warm heat of an August evening. “Did you kill him?” Without waiting for an answer, I hurried across the deck. Blood covered John’s left leg, and he was out cold.
“No. Just shot him in the leg.” She pressed the gun to my ribs. “I don’t know why he passed out.”
I tried to edge away from the gun and think how to handle this. The day fuzzed and I breathed deep to focus. “He passed out because you shot him.” Crouching, I ripped off my bra beneath the tank top and wrapped it around his leg. Then I dug his phone out of his front pocket and dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” a younger male voice answered.
“Officer down with a gunshot to the leg,” I said.
The barrel of Kay’s gun pressed against the back of my head. I dropped the phone, leaving the line open, and slowly turned to face her with my hands up.
“Officer?” she hissed, her blue eyes wide.
I tried to see if he was regaining consciousness. “He’s supposed to be protecting me.”
Panic zipped across her face.
“You should go,” I said. “The police are coming.”
She took a step back. “You’re coming. Now, or I shoot you in the leg, too.”
I believed her and wasn’t entirely sure she’d hit my leg and not my stomach. “Fine. But you’re making a huge mistake.”
“I already made it,” she said, looking at the prone officer. “Move. Now.”
We made it way too quickly around the cottage to her car that was parked down the country road, halfway hidden by trees.
“You drive,” she said, her gun still pointed at me.
I entered the driver’s side as she did the passenger’s, and she maintained a pretty good hold on the gun. After I started the ignition, I slowly drove out onto the road. “Where to?”
“I don’t know. Just drive.”
The car was an older Chevy with cigarette ash falling out of the ashtray. No music came from the ancient radio, and I kept it slow so the emergency vehicles could catch up. I’d hit one when they got close enough, and hopefully the gun wouldn’t go off.
Sirens trilled in the distance, and my muscles stiffened in anticipation.
“Pull over onto that road.” Kay shoved the gun in my ribs again.
Pain ticked through my torso. I pulled onto a country road that led to an abandoned church surrounded by a field.
“There,” she said, pointing to a side pull-off behind us.
I turned the Chevy around and faced the road, but we were shielded by trees and bushes. Several emergency vehicles roared by.
“Now go.” Kay wasn’t a woman of many words.
I followed directions. “Get the gun out of my side, would you?”
