Page 94 of Ultimate Justice

He redialed Marlie’s number. After four rings, it went to voicemail. “Marlie, I’m on my way to the camp. Whatever you do, do not go in there alone.”

The speedometer hit triple digits, and it still wasn’t fast enough. If Noah really had made his way to the camp, Marlie wouldn’t sit around twiddling her thumbs waiting for him to call her back.

She’d go in after him.

Browning took the exit for Ridley Road, then hung a hard right.

For the hundredth time since he’d looked at the Red Notice files, Evan kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. Better late than never and, literally, in his own backyard.

The patrol car rocked and rolled as they turned onto Painted Sky Road. Red-and-blue lights flashed in the sideview mirror. Two SUVs took up the rear—Brett and Deck with their dogs and, hopefully, Blue.

Half a dozen other patrol cars had parked on either side of the road, one unit blocking the gate. A pickup truck with wood sideboards sat on the other side of the gate. Before Browning had the car in park, Evan was out the door.

A sharp bark sliced the air. Blue bounded over, then stood on his hind legs to rest his front paws on Evan’s chest. “Good to see you, boy.” Better than good. He was surrounded by ten other cops, but going into this without his partner would have been like going in unarmed and completely unprepared.

He nodded to Brett, who’d leashed up his big Chesapeake Bay retriever, Blaze. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Brett handed him a radio that he clipped to his belt.

Deck held his Belgian Malinois, Thor’s, leash in one hand, an M4 carbine rifle in the other. He handed Evan the rifle. “Thought you might want this.”

“You know it.” He slung the rifle over his shoulder.

They met Browning and another Cheyenne PD officer at the hood of Browning’s car. Several other cops gathered around, waiting for instructions. The SWAT unit hadn’t arrived yet.

“They’re not letting us in voluntarily.” One of the cops nodded to the truck on the other side of the gate. A man who looked like the guy he’d chased down at the farmers market stood next to the truck. A woman sat in the passenger seat. Not Marlie. Her old pickup wasn’t there, either. Didn’t mean she wasn’t.

“I’ve seen this guy once or twice in town,” the cop said. “Said his name’s John and that he works here. He won’t open the gate without a warrant. SWAT team is on the way. ETA in five.”

“There’s an active shooter in there who just shot down an FBI helicopter. We don’t need a warrant.” Evan racked a round into his rifle. “Anyone have a problem with that?”

Browning, the senior officer on site, shook his head. “Not a one.”

With Blue beside him, Evan charged to the gate. Keeping one eye on John, he rammed his boot into the security camera. The lens shattered, and the camera cracked in pieces, falling to the ground.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” John rushed over, then stopped as three rifle muzzles aimed at his chest.

“I just did.” Officer safety, would be the official stated reason why he’d busted the camera. He didn’t want a set of prying eyes watching them. In truth, he would have kicked out the camera anyway. “FBI. Open the gate.”

In a wasted show of defiance, John narrowed his eyes. “You got a warrant?”

“Don’t need one. Someone on this property took shots at an FBI helicopter. If you don’t let us in, two things will happen. We’re coming in anyway, and you’ll be arrested for harboring and aiding and abetting an active shooter.”

John took a few steps back, then reached for something in his back pocket.

“Blue!” Evan raised the muzzle of the rifle. If the guy whipped out a gun, he’d drill him center of mass.

Blue leaped over the gate with the ease of a gazelle and bit down on John’s arm, growling and shaking his head. A phone fell from his hand.

“Get it off me! Get it off!” John squirmed, trying unsuccessfully to punch Blue in the side of his head.

As a unit, he vaulted the gate with Deck and Brett. Before John could reach for it, Deck kicked the phone away.

Evan raced to the truck. The woman had put a cell phone to her ear. He yanked open the door, hauling her out and shoving her against the side of the truck. He grabbed the phone and tucked it in his back pocket. “Stay there, and don’t move,” he ordered.

“Release!” he said over his shoulder to Blue. The damage had been done. Blood dripped from a nasty gash on John’s wrist. “All you had to do was open the gate, asshole.”

Cheyenne PD officers had also jumped the gate and raced in to assist. One of them flipped John onto his belly and cuffed him.