Page 13 of Safeguarding the Witness

She peeked around his shoulder. “The place with the picture window?”

“And the glass door beside it.”

As soon as Spence stepped from the plane into the open air, he sensed trouble. Clouds masked the moon. An unnatural stillness caused the wind to cease. A chill prickled the back of his neck. Someone watching? There was danger in this night. He could feel it.

He debarked ahead of Mollie and stayed in front of her, shielding her. Before they could round the corner of the office and get into the waiting vehicle, Easton blocked their way. Waving his credentials and badge, he demanded they talk to him.

Spence didn’t actually hear the blast of gunfire. He couldn’t see the bullet tearing through the air like a slow-motion Matrix pellet. But he heard the thuds when four slammed into the corrugated steel side of the hangar. A fifth hit the office window. Glass shattered and rained down on the blacktop.

He threw Mollie to the ground, drew his handgun and crouched in front of her. His senses sharpened. He flashed back to his Army Ranger training, braced himself for the assault while protecting her at the same time.

His gaze scanned the seven-hundred-acre airfield, peering into shadows, looking for the flare of a rifle being fired. Light from the various hangars and two-story office buildings spread across the tarmac in irregular patterns. Salem Beacon Charter was a good distance away from the main terminal. Few people were outside.

Another bullet drilled into the hangar. Spence flinched. Jamison, also crouched low, ducked his head. Marshal Easton was standing, weapon in hand and ready to fire. He clutched his leg and collapsed with a scream. Blood stained his trousers.

Spence glanced toward Agent Jamison and said, “Sniper.”

“We need cover,” Jamison said.

Retreating to the plane meant climbing single file up to the hatch, presenting their back sides as a clear target for the shooter. The glass door outside the office was fifty feet away. Spence didn’t like the idea of exposing Mollie to the shooter, but he hated the thought of cowering helplessly. What was the alternative?

The shooter had positioned him or herself too far away for them to hear the snap of the rifle being fired. Possibly the weapon had a silencer. The first five shots, including the one that exploded the window, had been a warning. The hit on Easton had been aimed and well-executed as though the marshal was the intended victim. Why him?

“I’m making a run for the office,” Jamison said.

Before he could take a step, another bullet crashed into the jagged remains of the window. The sniper had them where he wanted them.

Jamison rose up on one knee and started firing blindly.

Spence heard police sirens and the wail of an ambulance. Backup was on the way. Though he doubted he’d hit anything, he followed Jamison’s example.

At the same time, he focused on the rooftops of nearby buildings, searching for the silhouette of head and shoulders above the parapets. Snipers chose high vantage points for wider visibility. He saw nothing unusual but continued to search. And to shoot.

The air traffic control tower would have made an excellent sniper’s nest, but that structure was in the opposite direction. Closer and facing directly toward them, he saw the four-story structure used by the local fire department. Several hundred yards away. Though Spence couldn’t actually see the sniper, that had to be the right location.

Jamison growled. “I’m guessing it’s an M24 rifle, accurate up to three hundred yards.”

Their handguns were useless at this range.

Chapter Five

On the tarmac, Mollie curled on her side with her knees pulled up to her chest. She tried to make herself small and unseen behind Spence, who crouched in front of her. Every muscle in her body tensed. Every breath smelled of dirt and gunpowder.

Time stood still. Though it felt like eternity, she guessed that less than five minutes had passed since they descended the fold-down stairs from the plane.

Beside them, Agent Jamison took a shooter’s stance, kneeling with the other leg at a ninety-degree angle. Two-handed, he fired across the airfield. Though she couldn’t see exactly what was happening, she’d known they were being targeted when the office window exploded and the marshal was shot. Turning her head, she saw him sprawled on the tarmac. He struggled to get to his feet, clutched a leg wound. If the femoral artery had been hit, he might bleed out.

She heard one word from Spence. “Sniper.”

Panic exploded inside her head. Positioned outside the Cessna Citation like sitting ducks, they had no protection. A sniper! Both Spence and Agent Jamison were blasting away. What were they shooting at? There were lights from the terminal, runways and other buildings. But not clear illumination. What could they see? She wished she had her SIG Sauer P226 that was locked away in a safe at her home in Denver. She’d probably never see that fine handgun again.

With no weapons other than her pepper spray and a ceramic pocketknife, she couldn’t fight back and needed to hide. The corner office attached to the hangar seemed like the best place even though the window was destroyed. The marshal who had been wounded screamed a second time, drawing her attention. She saw blood from a fresh wound on his other leg. The sniper was picking him apart. One limb at a time.

Her trigger finger twitched. I need my SIG. Earlier, she’d told Spence that her dad taught her to shoot, but Mollie hadn’t gone into detail. Dad’s favorite thing, after art appreciation, was hunting. He took her and Madison for long weekends in the Oregon wilderness where they learned how to use rifles and handguns. Both she and her sister were highly proficient. Mollie’s skill focused on accuracy. On a good day, she could shoot the petals off a daisy. But Madison surpassed her in killing. She had zero hesitation when it came to bagging and tagging her prey.

After Mom died, their dad kept up the lessons so they could take care of themselves. Neither of his daughters would be caught defenseless. But here she was. Pinned down by a sniper. Being protected by a guy wearing glasses and an Armani suit.

She heard approaching sirens. The pilot must have alerted the airport police. She told herself that everything was going to be okay but didn’t truly believe it. The odds were stacked against her.