In Seconds

Because he doubted Ink and Lloyd would’ve approached Vivian’s house from the front, and he figured they’d probably come out the same way they went in, he hurried through his kitchen and exited onto the deck. There he paused to listen. He could hear his heart pounding with urgency, maybe even fear despite the gun in his hand, but he couldn’t hear voices or movement.

Had he already missed them?

That upstairs light didn’t allow him to see in the first-floor windows. Maybe when they found her gone they’d left without bothering to turn it off. Or they were ransacking her house right now, looking for clues or leaving surprises…?.

Guessing they’d be too disappointed and angry at finding her gone to simply go away, he walked as quickly and quietly as possible through Vivian’s garden. He had no idea what vegetables he happened to be trampling, but he wasn’t worried about it. If he could arrest Ink and Lloyd, send them back to prison where they belonged, it’d be worth a few smashed tomatoes.

Although Myles had put on his bulletproof vest along with his utility belt, he hadn’t taken the time to change into his uniform. He wore the vest over his T-shirt, knew it probably looked a little ridiculous, but he had what was necessary. That was all that mattered.

When he discovered the broken door, which stood slightly ajar, and the glass on the floor inside, he was especially glad he’d had the presence of mind to put on some shoes.

Someone had been in her house, all right.

Hinges squealing as he pushed the door wider, Myles stepped over the shards of glass and stopped again to listen. He couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything, either. There was no light whatsoever in this room. The moon slanted into the front of the house and didn’t filter to the back. Myles had brought his flashlight, but he didn’t dare use it. He wanted to find Ink and Lloyd before they realized he was there, so he felt his way through instead, hoping he wouldn’t knock something over in the process.

He hadn’t even made it out of the laundry room and into the kitchen when he heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. Whoever was here seemed to be leaving.

Without seeing where he was going, he couldn’t move fast so he snapped on his flashlight and charged through the swinging doors between the kitchen and the living room.

The shifting glow of his flashlight landed on the back of a man who was opening the door. Ink. He turned at that second, giving Myles a glimpse of his face. Then Myles spotted a second man, Lloyd, standing behind Ink across the threshold.

Lloyd had a gun. Ducking behind the sofa, Myles called out, “Hold it right there or I’ll shoot!”

They didn’t stop. Myles hadn’t really expected them to. Ink shoved Lloyd to the side, and attempted to shut the door behind him, so Myles squeezed the trigger. He felt the familiar recoil travel up his arm and hoped to God he’d hit something. He was peering around the sofa to see, when someone flung the door open again. It crashed against the wall with a bang that reverberated through the house just before the sound of a second shot, this one coming from the bad guys.

Ink had taken control of the firearm. Blinded by Myles’s flashlight, he was shooting into the dark, but he’d come darn close. Too close. When Myles heard the bullet whiz past his ear, he tossed the flashlight into the living room so it couldn’t give his location away and dropped to the floor. But there wasn’t any time for the Oh, shit! that was going through his mind. He had to act and he had to act now.

Lifting his Glock, he fired once, twice, three times.

And he hit someone. He heard the grunt of pain, the curse.

Hoping the squad car he’d ordered would come and hem them in at the front, he waited. Without his flashlight, he couldn’t see them anymore. “Ink?” he called out. “Drop your weapon!”

“Go to hell!” came the reply. Then someone started to run.

It had to be Lloyd. Myles didn’t believe Ink could move that fast, not with his handicap. That meant he had a good chance of apprehending Ink, even if Lloyd managed to escape. But he wouldn’t get anyone if he stayed where he was. He had to sacrifice the cover of the sofa in order to advance.

First, he wanted to reload. The clip he’d been using wasn’t out of bullets, but he didn’t want to be down to two or three shots if he got into another exchange. So he changed clips by feel alone, then rose cautiously to his feet.

His abandoned flashlight painted a steady white circle on the wall. It was the only thing he could see as he darted for the door. He reached it without incident, but as soon as he stepped through it he heard another blast.

This one wasn’t from his gun, either.

Then he felt the pain.

The sound of gunshots woke Laurel from a deep sleep. She blinked against the darkness, wondering if she could’ve dreamed the sound. Had she been reliving that night in Colorado as she so often did?

She didn’t think so. After a few seconds of trying to catch her breath and sort out the thoughts and feelings bombarding her from all sides, she heard another shot.

That was when she knew it was real.

“Myles?” she called.

No answer. It felt as if she was completely alone in the house, but she knew he’d never leave her without someone else being there. Not in her current predicament. And not without good reason.

“Myles?” she called again.

The familiar influx of adrenaline began to pour through her. Something was wrong. Something terrible.

Where was her gun?

She had to rack her brain to remember. It was in her purse. But she hadn’t fallen asleep in this room, hadn’t brought it upstairs with her. The last she remembered was that she’d had it in Myles’s kitchen while he was cooking her meal.

“God, please,” she mumbled. She wasn’t praying for anything specific. Nothing she could identify in this hellish moment. She was praying for all of it. Safety. For herself, for Myles, for everyone in Pineview. For Virgil and Rex and the children. She didn’t want to find the sheriff dead. She couldn’t take that. Not after what she’d seen that night in Colorado.

More shots rang out. Whatever was going on hadn’t ended. She had to get out there and help, if she could. But she didn’t even have her jeans. After Myles had carried her to bed, she’d shed them for the sake of comfort and curled up under Marley’s blankets.

Where were they? Probably on the floor somewhere, but she was already in the hall and wasn’t willing to waste so much as a second going back.

Running down the stairs, she rushed into the kitchen to get her gun. She could see a light burning upstairs at her house, but that didn’t surprise her. What did was that she didn’t hear any sirens or police activity out front.

Where was the rest of the police force? Had Myles gone over there by himself? If so, what had motivated him to do that?

She found her purse on the table, where she’d left it, and pulled out her gun. Then she ran through the living room and out the front door. There’d been no new shots since she’d left Marley’s bedroom, but she didn’t hear Myles making an arrest, or coming back home, either.

Why not?

“Myles? Where are you?”

“Get back…in the house…and lock the door!”

Relief flooded through her as she recognized his voice, but she didn’t turn back as he asked. It sounded as if he was in pain, as if he could hardly talk, let alone yell.

She imagined him bleeding on her front porch.

She glanced around, looking for danger, but saw nothing and hurried closer. A series of dark, amorphous shapes surrounded her, but she realized those shapes were her car, her chairs, her hibiscus plant, the columns on her porch. Whatever had happened was over.

“Myles?”

“Didn’t you…hear me?” he said hoarsely. “I have a deputy…on the way. He’ll…help me. Get…inside. Now!”