No, as it turned out, two or three of them.
“Jesus,” she gasped, dropping to the ground, earning a scraped elbow.
The bullets slammed, loud, into the sheet steel of the Pathfinder a foot or so from her head and shoulders. Where was the shooter?
She couldn’t tell. He was somewhere in the pine forest.
In shadows, of course.
Reaching for her phone, which sat on the passenger seat, to call 911, she rose. The shooter fired again and a slug snapped over her head, then another. Dance flattened herself on the ground as another bullet loudly punctured the side of the driver’s seat.
A cry echoed from the Mercedes.
Move, move, move!
Crawling fast, cradling the extinguisher, Dance made it to a fallen tree, about forty feet from the Mercedes.
She risked a look. The flames were rising faster now.
And from the gap in the dense pine forest she saw a ragged flash of gunshot. A bullet snapped over her head before she could duck.
The attacker would have gotten a look at her and if it was Edwin, he would recognize her as a CBI agent, which meant he might assume she was armed. If it wasn’t Edwin, or if he decided she didn’t have a weapon, the assailant could casually stroll a hundred feet in her direction and shoot her.
Dance then heard another wailing scream from the Mercedes.
A flash bloomed from the woods, and six inches from her face a bullet blew a handful of dry rotting wood into the air.
Chapter 35
“I SHOULD CHECK in with my people,” P. K. Madigan said angrily, nodding toward his office. “We’ve got an operation going here. Possible homicide. It’s urgent.” The bewildered chief was feeling panic-which was not a sensation he was used to.
Two California Department of Justice officers stood in front of him in the lobby of the detective division, back a bit, out of deference. Maybe. One was redheaded and one had black hair. They otherwise looked similar, trim, in suits. Polite. Very polite. Madigan was so shaken he’d forgotten their names. The redhead said, “Yessir, I’m afraid calls’ll have to wait. Same procedure you have in an arrest, I’m sure.”
FMCSO sheriff Anita Gonzalez stood nearby, her face too a mask of dismay more than anger. “This is nonsense, gentlemen. Utter nonsense. I’ve got a call in to the Sacramento office.”
Which had not, Madigan noted, returned that call.
The two officers obviously didn’t consider their present assignment as nonsense, utter or otherwise.
Their two suspects didn’t either: Detectives Madigan and Miguel Lopez, who were being arrested for breaking and entering, false imprisonment, misuse of legal authority, criminal trespass.
Madigan said, “Look, this is part of a plan by a perp we’re investigating. He’s trying to get some of us out of commission.” He explained to them what Kathryn Dance had said about how stalkers target people who are protecting the object they’re obsessed with.
The state officers weren’t much interested in that either.
The reason for the arrest was, Madigan knew before they’d even mentioned the charges, his decision to keep Edwin Sharp in the interrogation room longer than he should have. And to have Miguel Lopez go to Edwin’s house and gather evidence.
The dark-haired agent was saying, “Here’s how it’ll work, Detective. We’ll take you in and I’m sure the magistrate’ll expedite arraignment. Probably recognizance. Can’t imagine he’ll go for bail. You’ll be out in a few hours.”
“I don’t care when I’ll be out. The problem is I’ll be suspended until it’s resolved. That’s procedure.” Like Gabriel Fuentes, the detective so careless with his gun.
Gonzalez said to the officers, “We can’t afford to have the chief down now-not with the perp on the streets.”
The redhead said, “We know how you feel about this singer of yours. But…”
He didn’t add, That’s not enough to bend the law over.
Madigan wanted to hit him.
The panic swelled. Hell, this could be the end of his career-the only career he’d ever cared about. What would he tell his family?
And he’d bent the rules just a bit, done it for Kayleigh.
Goddamn Edwin Sharp!
The officers were debating but it was only the cuff issue.
“Oh, please,” Madigan said, sounding as desperate as he felt. “You can’t-”
“Look, gentlemen,” Sheriff Gonzalez said. “This is a critical operation. We think a murder could be occurring at any moment.”
Madigan looked back into his office again.
The redhead offered to Gonzalez, “You understand a warrant has been issued for his arrest? I’m sorry. We don’t have any choice.”
They took his Colt and ID and badge.
Madigan repeated, “At least let me check in with some of my people.” He was growing more agitated.
They debated a moment but settled for, “You’ll be out in an hour.”
“Two, tops.”
And they also decided yes on the cuffs.
Chapter 36
DANCE HUDDLED BEHIND the fallen pine tree.
There’d been no more shots; was the assailant still there? Waiting for her to show? It would make more sense for him to leave. He’d have to assume that Dance had called in reinforcements and would have fled. He couldn’t risk staying any longer.
Or could he?
Clutching the fire extinguisher, she debated. If I don’t do something now, Sheri’ll die. She’ll burn to death.
Dance looked up cautiously, then ducked down again. No gunshots.
She thought of her children, how she couldn’t stand the idea of their being orphans. Thought too that she’d specifically gone into kinesic analysis and investigations to avoid tactical situations that might put her life in danger.
And here, I’m not even on duty, she thought.
Another cry from the car, but muted. Sheri Towne was losing the battle.
Now. It has to be now.
She leapt to her feet and began to sprint to the Mercedes, just as the flames were reaching into the passenger compartment.
Waiting for the bullets.
None came her way but still she dove into the ditch, out of the line of fire of the shooter in the woods, and crawled fast to the car. Inside, Sheri was pounding on the windshield with bloody hands. She was retching and coughing as the smoke roiled into the interior. Dance’s skin prickled in the heat from a grass fire surrounding the car.
