Watching the last of my small cloud of smoke as it dissipates, I search for signs of a second sniper.
“So what now?”
“I don’t know yet.”
My teeth grit together, grinding as I weigh my options. The safest choice would be to stay where I am until backup arrives, but I’m not sure I can do that. I can’t risk letting whoever this is get away, not when I have no idea who they are.
Before I can make a decision, the sound of tiny hooves trotting across the dirt reaches my ears. I spin toward the noise. Watch in horror as Stephano, the pygmy goat and most outgoing member of the rescueswho live here at the sanctuary, heads straight toward where the shooter fell.
Panic rises in my throat, making my voice crack as I call his name. He glances briefly in my direction, thenbaasas he quickens his steps, choosing to ignore me. Cursing, I leave the shelter of the truck and chase after him.
It’s stupid. It’s reckless. But I have to do it. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to him—to any of the animals here. It’s my job to keep them safe and I dropped the ball. I should have expected something like this.
A pang of guilt lances through me as Jake calls my name. It grows as the heavy thud of his boots strike against the earth, racing behind me. It’s almost enough to make me stop. Instead, I push an extra boost of speed into my legs. I need to make sure that I’m the closer target, that the gunman’s decision is an easy one if he’s lying in wait.
Catching up with Stephano as he reaches the tree line, I scoop him up into my arms. Hold his squirming body tight against mine as I spin, half expecting a spray of bullets to hit my back.
It doesn’t happen, but that doesn’t mean it’s not coming. Because I’ve made some very powerful enemies lately. People like that don’t just drop a grudge—they try to annihilate the source of it. Which means that since they failed this time, it isn’t over.
CHAPTER 2
The lump in my throat grows as I watch the black bag on the stretcher get loaded into the medical examiner’s transport van. I didn’t kill the man it contains. None of my bullets pierced his flesh. Judging by the angle his head had been at when I’d crept forward with Stephano in my arms and taken a look at him, he broke his neck in the fall.
But that doesn’t make the bitter taste coating my tongue any easier to swallow.
Maybe I should have waited. Not taken the shot. If I had, would the man still be alive? I’ll never know the answer. What I do know is that as long as he was in the tree, I was safe. It would have been impossible for him to hit me where I was hiding behind the truck.
It’s possible he would have died in a shootout with the Feds when they arrived with their lights flashing and their sirens blaring to take him into custody. But if he hadn’t, if he had survived, would he have talked?
Could I have gotten the answers to some of thequestions twisting and turning through my mind with the force of an F5 tornado? More importantly, could I have had the blood of one less of my fellow humans on my hands? One less face to haunt my dreams when I close my eyes at night?
I’ll never know now, and it’s all my fault. I release a heavy sigh, aware that I need to stop thinking like this. It’s accomplishing nothing.
Besides, it’s not like I don’t have an idea who’s behind what happened. The first preliminary hearing is tomorrow. I’ll be a key witness in the trial. Even without my testimony, the prosecutor has a strong case. But with it?
Well, chances are that this day would have been much less eventful if at least one person didn’t think that silencing me would make a difference. But the people who murdered my parents had to have anticipated that it wouldn’t be easy. I’m not the type of woman willing to just lie down and die.
I faced nearly insurmountable odds when I took them down, facing them on my own, and still I prevailed. Not to mention that I’ve been an FBI agent for the last fifteen years. True, most of that time was spent behind a desk instead of out in the field. And I’m technically on medical leave at the moment—again. Still, I’ve been assured that the Bureau still considers me a valuable asset.
I’d assumed that was why I haven’t been pushed to retire yet, considering that I turned down the offer made by the Miami field office to join their ranks. Though I haven’t had the time to plan my next steps with everything that’s happened since I returned home to the Everglades, I’ve made my intentions to stay here clear. I figured they were hoping that their patience would payoff.
Now, for the first time, I can’t help wondering about the agency’s motives for keeping me on. It’s not just that the jury might be slightly more swayed by my testimony if I’m a current and not former agent. If today’s attempt on my life had been successful, it would have been considered a federal crime.
And given how dangerous the murderers who are going to trial are, I can’t help suspecting that someone out there in our judicial system would prefer that. To be able to take charge and have the ball in their court, even if the expense was my life.
Spotting Agent Gellar approaching, I do my best to keep my expression emotionless, to not betray the fear that’s slowly replacing the adrenaline in my veins. Though my experience with the agents at the Miami field office hasn’t been the best, she hasn’t given me a reason to distrust her. Yet.
“We’re wrapping it up now. Should be out of your hair soon. How are you holding up?” she asks, giving me a sympathetic smile.
“Just fine.”
“Did you get a look at the perp?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t suppose you recognized him?” She releases a disappointed sigh as I shake my head. “He didn’t have any identification on him. We found a car abandoned about a mile down the road. Stolen, of course. We’re running his prints now, but…”
She doesn’t finish the statement. She doesn’t have to. Knowing what we do, I’m sure none of us are holding our breath that the dead man’s fingerprints will hold the key to his identity. These people have proven their ability to access the system and alter records like that before.Records that only members of law enforcement have access to.
