back and exposing her whole body. Another shot hit her torso and blew her backward into the water. The chief stumbled past him, under the bow and to the cover of the other side of the boat.
“Go, Mac, I’ve got you covered,” Fornier yelled, firing.
Mac fished Lyman out of the water and dragged him the last twenty feet to the safety of the boat. Mac heard Lich yell, “He’s down! He’s down! They’re all down!”
The whole thing was over in less than twenty seconds.
“Mac!” the chief yelled. “The girls, we don’t know where the girls are.”
“Relax, Chief,” Mac replied with a broad small smile on his face as he leaned back against the boat. “We have them.”
“But…” the chief was astonished. “How? Boyo,” the chief started smiling, grabbing Mac by the scruff of his neck. “How in the hell did you do it?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Mac answered and then called Riles. “Pat?”
“Mac, everyone all right?”
“Yeah. Lyman’s hit in the back of his right leg. We’re going to need to get him out of here,” Mac reported. He pulled out a heavy-duty Swiss Army knife and cut the chief’s and Lyman’s hands loose. Then Mac rolled Lyman onto his stomach and cut his pant leg away to get a look at the wound. The hole was on the outside of the right thigh.
“How bad?” Lyman grunted, grimacing in pain.
“I’ve seen worse,” Mac answered as Lich handed him a hankie and he applied pressure. “We should get a tourniquet on this,” Mac said as he started to loosen his belt. “There should be a first aid kit in the boat,” he said to Fornier. “It’s down in the companionway. There should be towels down there as well, grab them.”
Fornier climbed into the boat.
“You’ve got help coming, be there any minute,” Riles reported and then said, “Wait a minute…” and then there was a pause. “Mac!”
“What?” Mac answered, tightening his belt around Hisle’s upper thigh.
“I don’t see Brown.”
“What?”
“Brown. I don’t see him. He went down by the woods, but now he’s gone.”
40
Mac crawled to the bow and peered around it. Smith Brown was indeed gone. He must have gone into the woods.
“I guess we’re not done yet.”
“What?” Lich asked. “I thought you hit him.”
“I did damn it. I put him down. But now the fucker’s gone,” Mac answered. “Riles, paint the woods with the search light.”
The chopper turned its nose toward the woods on the other side of the clearing. “Riles, do you see anything?”
“Negative, Mac. We see nothing.”
Mac already decided his next move as he slipped a new clip into his Sig-Sauer.
“We’re all going,” Lich said, knowing his partner, grabbing additional shells for the shotgun out of his pocket, and pushing them in. Fournier checked her Glock-17 and the Stillwater chief his smaller Glock-9.
“Give me a gun,” the chief ordered. “I’m going with you.”
“You sure you’re up to it?” Lich asked.
“Fuck you. Give me your piece of shit backup piece,” the chief ordered.
“This?” Lich asked as he pulled up his pant leg to show an old Smith amp; Wesson six-shooter. The chief grabbed it from the ankle holster, popped open the cylinder, and checked it and then snapped his right wrist, which pulled the cylinder back in place.
“What about Hisle?” Fournier asked.
“I’m fine,” the lawyer answered, looking at his leg. “Help will be here soon enough. You go catch that bastard.”
Mac didn’t need to be told twice. He looked toward the group, “Ready?” Everyone nodded. Mac grabbed the radio. “Riles, we’re heading in.”
“Mac, wait ten seconds and you’ll have help from the Wisconsin side, the St. Croix County sheriff. His name is Kolls.” Mac looked back to his left, and three boats pulled into the small cove. The first one in the water was the sheriff himself. He was quickly followed by a crew of deputies. All had vests on and their weapons drawn.
Mac immediately went to the sheriff. “Sheriff Kolls, we have one on the move in the woods to the north. He was hit, left shoulder I think, and is injured.”
Kolls smiled and pointed to the cliffs. “Not to worry son. There’s no way out of here except through us or if he wants to swim.” The sheriff then looked to the rest of the men. “I want us in a line, moving straight north. Let’s flush him out.”
“The man’s name is Smith Brown. He is armed and dangerous,” Mac added. “He has a. 45 and will use it. He just threw down on us.”
“So be careful,” the sheriff added.
The group moved into the woods in a line. Mac took the chief and moved to the far right of the skirmish line, working their way to the cliffs. Five minutes and one-hundred yards into the woods, Mac started to wonder. “Chief, did you overhear anything from these guys as to what they were going to do after, you know…”
“They capped us,” the chief answered, a wry smile on his face. “They didn’t share anything with us if that’s what you’re asking. I assumed they would cap us and then take the boat back out.”
“Right,” Mac answered, moving forward. The brush was getting thicker, with logs and branches strewn on the ground. Despite the flashlight in the chief’s hand and others close by, the woods were getting darker and darker. Mac had trouble seeing more than a few feet in front. He stepped onto a large log and jumped off and hit a tree in front of him.
“Ow. Shit that hurts.”
He banged into a thorny tree branch that dug into his left thigh. Looking down he could see blood coming through a hole ripped in his khakis.
“Let me see,” the chief said, bending down to look at the leg, putting his flashlight on the hole. “Hmmm. That’s a nasty gash you’ve got there boyo.”
Sheriff Kolls approached and inspected the thigh. “Stitches for sure. There’s a first aid kit back in the boats. You should go get that taken care of.”
“I want to finish this,” Mac protested.
Kolls shook his head. “We’ve got this. It’s just a matter of time, trust me.”
Mac and the chief hung back as Kolls and the rest of the skirmish line moved forward.
“It felt like a knife going into my leg,” Mac said, flexing his leg.
“I imagine it did.”
The two slowly walked back toward the campsite and boats.
“It’s hard to maneuver in here with no light, these trees, logs, and bushes all around,” Mac said. “I can’t imagine Brown doing it, wounded in the shoulder, that black… bag… over… his… holy shit. How did I miss that?”
“Miss what?”
“I must be really tired.”
“Miss what boyo. Spit it out.”
“Chief, they had the bags of money with them, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“They weren’t going back to the boats.”
