Good. He liked her close. “Did you find Walter’s brother?” She’d texted him an update earlier.
“No, and his apartment was disheveled. We found a bit of blood. Not much. Then the local police interviewed us, and they promised to keep Walter informed.” She didn’t sound certain about that.
“Do you want the state to look into the situation?” There was a time all he and his dog worked on was scaring bears and finding poachers. He liked that life. But it hadn’t included Laurel, and he’d rather have her than quiet peace. “Did the locals put out a BOLO?”
Something rustled across the line. “Yes. I think we should allow them to investigate right now since they’re sharing information with Walter. Nobody is quite certain that Tyler is actually missing.”
A muffled “What the fuck?” came through the line from Walter.
Huck stiffened. “Everything good?”
“Shit,” Walter snapped loud enough that Huck could hear him. “That bastard has been following us, but I didn’t think anything of it. He’s coming up fast.”
“Laurel?” Huck pushed off the wall.
A crunch echoed.
“Black truck, lifted, two people in the cab,” Laurel said calmly. “No license plate and they’re wearing balaclavas. We just passed the abandoned Elephant Inn. The truck rammed us from the rear. I have my weapon.”
Brakes squealed. “Damn it,” Walter yelled. “Be careful, boss. They’re speeding up again.”
“Put me on speaker,” Huck ordered, turning and jogging through the reception area and then outside. They were only about twenty miles outside of town. “Hold on a second.” Fighting every instinct inside him, he clicked over to call it in. Hopefully, patrol cars were closer than he was right now. Then he clicked back to hear the sound of gunfire.
Loud.
“Status?” Huck barked, reaching his truck and jumping inside.
The line went dead.
“Put your seat belt back on,” Walter snapped, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “They’re coming up fast again.”
Laurel had tried to fire but her angle wasn’t advantageous. Her phone had dropped to the floor. She partially turned and refastened her belt. “Reposition this side mirror fifteen degrees out.”
Walter reached over and did so.
“Right there.” Laurel pulled down the visor and slid open the mirror to see through the pounding rain. “They’re both large and appear male.” Her breath caught. “The passenger has a weapon. Appears to be an AK-47.” Panic began to set in and she inhaled, filling her lungs and calming her central nervous system. “After they strike us again, I’ll turn on my knees and fire through the back hatch window.” She’d aim for the driver. “Prepare for impact.”
A pattering sound came and then the ping of bullets against the rear of the vehicle.
“Shit,” Walter muttered, jerking the wheel to the right and swerving into the other lane. “Guess they decided to shoot first.”
Laurel inhaled again. They were alone on a lonely stretch of road, which was a good thing. Her Glock felt solid in her hand, so she released her belt. The shooting had paused. Using the center console to balance herself, she swung around onto her knees, aimed, and fired through the back. The sound instantly deafened her.
Glass shattered and the truck jerked to the shoulder.
“You get him?” Walter yelled from what sounded like very far away.
Her ears rang. “Uncertain.” The front window appeared intact as the truck barreled back into place behind them. “I don’t believe so.” Taking in another deep breath, she settled her elbows on either side of the headrest, lowered her chin, aimed, and fired at the shooter.
Her bullets hit along the truck’s hood, sending up sparks of fire into the rain. The truck swerved, she fired again, and the front windshield shattered. The passenger fell back, blood sprayed, and the gun dropped out of sight. “Shooter down.”
“Good,” Walter said grimly, eyeing his rearview mirror. “Seat belt. He’s still coming.”
Laurel needed to reload. She dropped down, pivoted, and rapidly engaged her seat belt. “I’m out.” Where was her bag? She had an extra clip in there.
“Here he comes,” Walter yelled.
Laurel stiffened and then forced her body to relax to better take another impact. Stiffening would cause more injuries. “Try to go lax, Walter. It’s better.”
