McKenzie was on his radio, shouting. Ray was moving through the crowd toward the stage, badge out, trying to get people down and out of the way. The two High Peaks officers were running toward the building across the street.
Noah stayed low. He looked at the impact point.
The shot had hit the stone facade of the museum. Not the stage. Not the podium. Not the banner. The wall. Six feet up. Eight feet to the right of the podium.
He looked at where Luther had been standing.
Then he looked at where Hugh had been standing.
Hugh was on the ground. The woman he'd been talking to was beside him, both of them flat on the grass. She was screaming. Hugh was not. He was on his back, breathing hard, staring at the sky. He didn't appear to be hit.
The impact point on the wall was directly behind where Hugh had been standing.
Noah looked at it. Then at where Luther had been.
The angle was wrong.
McKenzie appeared beside him, crouching. "Ashford's secure. Security's got him behind the stage. No injuries reported. Shooter's position looks like the roof of the Adler Building. Officers are heading up."
"They won't find him," Noah said.
"What?"
"He's already gone. He took one shot and moved."
McKenzie looked at the security team surrounding Luther behind the stage. “I don’t understand. He missed. From that distance, with his training, he shouldn’t have missed."
Noah looked at Hugh. His father was sitting up now. The woman was helping him. A campaign volunteer was bringing water. Hugh waved it off. Said something brief. Already turning away.
“I don’t think Luther was the target,” Noah said quietly. "Look at where it hit."
McKenzie followed his gaze. From Luther behind the stage to the impact point on the wall to Hugh sitting on the grass near the drinks table.
"That's not the podium," McKenzie said.
"No."
The sirens were starting now. The crowd was thinning, people pulling each other toward cars, toward buildings, toward anywhere that wasn't the open lawn. The campaign banner flapped in the breeze. The podium microphone was still live, picking up ambient noise and broadcasting it through the speakers. All around him, he could hear footsteps, crying, and the distant squawk of radios.
Noah looked toward the rooftop of the Adler Building. It was empty. Liam was gone. He’d taken his shot, maybe as a warning, or maybe thrown off by Hugh’s slight movement at the wrong moment. Either way, Hugh was still alive, so Liam wasn’t done.
Noah looked at Hugh. His father was brushing grass from his jacket. He looked confused. He didn't know. He didn't understand why the shot had landed where it landed or what it meant or who had fired it. He was standing in the aftermath of an attempt on his life and he didn't know it.
McKenzie was beside him. "What do you want to do?"
Noah watched his father. The old man straightened his collar and said something to the woman beside him and started walking toward the parking lot. Moving slowly. Still shaken but moving, the way Hugh always moved, forward, without asking for help.
"I need to talk to him," Noah said.
"Noah, we need to process this scene. I need your statement. I need everything you found in that apartment."
"I know. I'll give you all of it. But I need to talk to my father first."
McKenzie looked at him for a long moment. He was trying to decide if he was losing control of the situation.
"Go," he said. "But when you're done, you call me. I want to know everything."
Noah nodded. He turned and walked through the wreckage of the fundraiser toward the parking lot. Chairs were on their sides. Broken glass everywhere. Campaign flyers scattered across the grass like something shed. The banner had come loose on one side and hung at an angle, Luther's name swaying in the breeze.
