by Terri Reed
“Harrison, I need you to protect our flank. You’re a much better shot than I am.” Audrey’s voice had lowered to a measured beat.
John arched an eyebrow at her placating tone, meant to both defuse a potential issue and bolster the deputy’s confidence at the same time.
Deputy Harrison ate up her words and totally missed the subtle undertone. “You’re right. I’ll make sure you all get to safety.”
Audrey didn’t waste any more words but slipped quickly and soundlessly out the window. John had to give her major credit for getting her way without causing a rift. He wondered if it were true that Harrison was a better shot or if she was downplaying herself for the deputy’s benefit.
He leaned into the open window. Moonlight from the full winter moon revealed that there indeed was a wide strip of grass separating the sheriff’s station from the side of the church. The white-painted wood building gleamed in the moon’s glow. He could smell the acrid smoke of the burning generator.
He spotted Audrey right away—her darker form outlined against bushes growing along the church’s side yard as she motioned for him to follow her out the window. He climbed over and dropped to the ground. The grass beneath his boots was crusted in ice and crunched beneath his weight.
He turned to help the dispatcher, Ophelia, out of the window. She hopped out of his hands as soon as her feet touched down. When Sean swung one leg over the side of the windowsill, his pant leg rode up, revealing a metal prosthetic above the tennis shoe.
John’s heart twisted with empathy. He reached out a hand to help the man. After a moment of hesitation, Sean grasped John’s hand and slipped out the window. John steadied the guy then let go.
“Thanks, dude,” Sean whispered.
Deputy Harrison came through the window less gracefully. He grunted when he hit the ground. John grabbed him by the arm to keep him from going down on his rear.
“Hurry.” Audrey’s voice carried on the slight breeze coming off the ocean.
John ushered Ophelia and Sean to her side. She led them to a wood door in the side of the church.
Harrison reached past her to try the handle. “It’s locked.”
“Give me a second,” Audrey shot back. She shuffled through the keys on her key ring. “Pastor Wilson gave me a key.”
“Why?” Harrison demanded to know. “I didn’t get a key.”
Seeing that Harrison wasn’t watching their six, John took a position with his back facing the church so he could see both entrances of the side yard. His hands flexed again, and the urge to hold cold metal against his palm was strong. Sean moved to stand beside him. Curiosity about the man burned in John, but now wasn’t the time.
A movement to the right caught John’s attention. His muscles tensed. The shape of a tall man carrying an automatic weapon was clear for a moment before a shadow swallowed him up.
“Combatant at three o’clock,” Sean whispered.
“I see him.” John had to deal with this. He couldn’t let these people get hurt. “Make sure they all get inside,” he said at a level barely considered a whisper.
Keeping to the shadow of the building, John made his way toward the armed man. Moving on instinct and some buried muscle memory, John prepared for hand-to-hand combat.
His first priority would be to disarm then disable. He mentally pictured the tactics for neutralizing his opponent. As he closed in on the man, John heard the faint, telltale sound of boots on the ground behind him.
He flattened himself against the wall just as Audrey bumped into him. He knew it was her by the fresh apple scent of her hair. He ground his teeth together. She needed to be inside, where she was safe.
A foot away the masked man stopped, as if sensing he wasn’t alone.
John held his breath. He didn’t know what Audrey planned. He didn’t like being out of sync with his partner. They needed to be of one mind for an assault to work. That he considered her as a partner was something he’d deal with later.
He touched Audrey’s hand. Using his index finger, he tapped her palm twice, though what he was trying to convey to her lurked beyond his mental reach. Frustration crimped the muscles in his shoulders. They were going to get themselves killed.
Audrey’s fingers curled over his and pulled him toward her, obviously wanting him to go with her to the safety of the church. He resisted. This could be their only chance to catch this guy. She elbowed him lightly before she squeezed his hand and then stretched her arm to the left in a semicircle. Then she moved their joined hands to his chest and thumped. He squeezed her hand, not comprehending her message.
She thumped him again and then stretched her arm past him to the right. It dawned on him that she wanted him to go behind the man while she confronted from the front. He didn’t like it. He brought her hand to his face and shook his head no.
She released her hold on him and broke away. She was going to take this guy on herself.
Gritting his teeth, he made a wide sweep so that he ended up behind the perp.
A bright spotlight beamed on the man. “Halt, sheriff’s department. Drop your weapon.”
The man brought his rifle barrel up. John slammed into him from behind, wrapping his arms around his torso and trapping his arms at his side, making it impossible for the man to fire at Audrey, as they went to the ground with John landing on top of the intruder.
John swiftly sprang up enough to dig his knee into the man’s back, keeping him glued to the ground while he wrestled the guy’s hands behind his back.
Audrey was there in a flash with a set of handcuffs. John slapped them over the man’s wrists and secured him in a tight hold. He patted him down by rote, vaguely aware that some part of his brain had given the command.
He found a money clip holding some cash and a blank key card. No other weapons and no identification. A shudder worked over John. He’d washed ashore dressed nearly the same, also without ID. Had John and this man worked together? If so, why was this guy trying to kill him?
He yanked the man to his feet. Audrey grabbed the man’s rifle from the ground. The sheriff and several other deputies rounded the corner of the building with their flashlights aimed at them.
“Audrey!” The deep timbre of the sheriff’s concerned voice rang out. “You okay?”
“Yes, sir.” She stepped close to John. “Good job.”
“Thanks.” He relinquished custody of the criminal to Audrey. To the sheriff, John said, “There might be more of them.”
The sheriff instructed the half dozen officers to spread out and search the area. The door to the church opened. Deputy Harrison came out, followed by Ophelia and Sean.
“All right, everyone,” the sheriff said. “Let’s take this back inside the station.”
“They blew the generator,” Harrison said. “The station’s dark and the fire department’s on the same electrical circuit, so it’s dark, too.”
“Paulson,” the sheriff called.
A deputy hustled over. “Yes, boss.”
“Get someone out here to fix the generator and the electricity,” Sheriff Crump commanded. Turning to the group huddled around him, he said, “Let’s take this inside the church. Harrison, call Pastor Wilson, let him know what’s up.”
“On it.” Harrison moved away to use his cell phone while the sheriff ushered them all inside the church.
Someone flipped a switch and wall sconces lit up, dispelling the inky shadows and revealing a small wood-paneled room with several doors. The sheriff pushed open a set of doors to the left and led their suspect into an office. He pushed him into a chair and took the black beanie from his head, revealing cropped sandy-blond hair.
John moved so that he could face the man. He was a stranger to him. Or at least John assumed, since he felt no recognition at all. The man had wide-set eyes, broad features with a nose that had been broken
in the past and a jutting chin. “Who are you? Why are you trying to kill me?”
The man stared through him. “I’m not talking to you,” he said in a softly accented voice.
Eastern European. John didn’t question how he knew. John stalked to the window, careful to keep the majority of his body out of the line of sight in case the suspect had a cohort who might want to take a potshot at him. He stared out at the parking lot shared by both the church and the sheriff’s station. The glowing embers of the burned-out generator and the dozen or so firefighters in turnout gear were visible.
“What do we do now?” Ophelia asked. “Ed will be wondering where I am.”
“Deputy Harrison will take you home,” Sheriff Crump said. “Sean, you need to go on home, too.”
John turned from the window, his gaze on the man in the chair. “Is it safe for them to leave?”
The man shrugged but held his gaze. “They’re not the target.”
A fist of dread hit John in the solar plexus. “Right. I am.”
Sean’s gaze bounced to Audrey. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’m fine, Sean,” Audrey assured him. “Tell Jessie hello for me.”
John heard the faint thread of annoyance in her tone and again wondered what exactly her relationship with the younger man was.
Sean nodded, but there was no mistaking the frustration on his face as he left with Ophelia and the deputy.
Sheriff Crump sat on the edge of the large desk dominating the office. “It would be helpful if you told us your name since we’re all going to be here for a while.”
“Sasha,” the man said with a shrug. “My name is Sasha.”
Audrey stepped closer. “Thank you, Sasha, for telling us your name. Do you know his name?”
Sasha’s lip curled. “No.”
“Are you hungry?” she asked, fishing around in her cargo pants pockets and producing a protein bar.
Sasha shook his head.
“Thirsty?” She walked to a small refrigerator in the corner. “Pastor Wilson keeps water here.” She pulled out bottles of water. “Sheriff? John?”
“I’m good,” replied Sheriff Crump.
Seeing the sharp way Sasha stared at him, John nodded. “Sure. I’ll take one.” What John really wanted was to shake the man and force him to talk, but he knew torture in any form wouldn’t give the desired results, so he followed Audrey’s lead to build a rapport with their suspect. “What about you, Sasha? A cold bottle of water?”
Sasha looked away and shook his head.
Audrey walked back with two bottles of water and handed one to John. “You know, Sasha, at the moment all we have you on is assault with intent to do bodily harm by pointing a loaded weapon at an officer. We can’t prove you blew up the generator. If you help us by telling us who and why someone wants this man dead—” she pointed to John “—we can help you.”
Sasha snorted. “You can’t help me. I’m dead. Just like he’s dead.”
His pronouncement shuddered through John.
“We can protect you,” she insisted.
The door to the office opened, and Paulson stuck his head inside. “The electricity’s back on.”
Sheriff Crump straightened and took Sasha by the arm. “Come on, I’ve got a jail cell waiting for you.”
The sheriff led Sasha out the door.
Audrey met John’s gaze. The anxiety in her eyes had him stopping in his tracks.
“He’s not the man from the hospital.”
John’s heart slammed to a halt. “What?”
“The man at the hospital didn’t have an accent and was leaner.” Her grim tone constricted his lungs. His stomach dropped. There were more bad guys out there determined to kill him.
A shout from outside drew their attention. They ran to the door. The sheriff and Paulson had their guns drawn and their flashlights lighting up the dark as they stood back to back. Sasha lay on the grass.
Immediately John grabbed Audrey, dragging her farther into the shelter of the windowless vestibule. “Kill the lights.”
Audrey hurried to the wall panel and flipped the lights off, shrouding the church in darkness.
“Where’d the shot come from?” Crump demanded.
“I don’t know,” Paulson responded in a high-pitched tone full of panic.
John crouched in the doorway. “Sheriff, you two need to find cover.”
The sheriff knelt on one knee and checked Sasha’s neck. John already knew the sheriff wouldn’t find a pulse. Sasha had been dealt a catastrophic head shot directly to the brain stem. He was dead before he hit the ground. Just as John would have been if he’d stepped outside the church.
SIX
“I have to leave,” John said, barely able to discern Audrey’s outline in the darkened vestibule. They stood inside the door, careful to stay in the shadows and out of the ambient light coming from the moon outside the church. His gut clenched. Leaving was the only answer. “I can’t stay here. I’m putting you and your town in danger.”
“I know. I’ve got to move you to a more secure location.” The hard determination in her tone came at him through the shadows.
He frowned in the dark and shook his head. She didn’t get his meaning. “Not with you. I have to go on my own. I can disappear.”
“No.” Her voice was adamant. “That’s not happening.”
Her stubbornness could get her killed. “It will be safer for you.”
“Don’t make this about me.” She stalked forward until she was standing in front of him. He could feel the heat of her annoyance buffeting him. He could imagine her blue eyes sparking and wished he could see her face.
“I’m a professional and I have a job to do,” she insisted. “Part of that job is protecting you. I’m not letting you take off alone. You don’t have any money or ID. And unless you plan to become a criminal, you’re not getting either one.”
He hated to admit it, but what she said was true. Frustration banded across his chest. “How do you know I’m not already a criminal? I’m dressed exactly like Sasha.”
She let out a little noise of irritation. “Black clothes don’t make you a criminal.”
He had to make her see his point. “But I could be. You said I’d muttered a word when you found me on the beach.” He reached out, and though it was too dark to see her, his aim was true. His hand gripped her shoulders. “Do you remember what I said?”
“Of course. Betrayed.”
The word hung between them, sending a shudder down his spine.
“Then doesn’t it stand to reason that whomever I betrayed is after me?” He released her to pace into the inky corner. “And if I betrayed someone who has the means and the mind-set to hire guns to kill me, I’d say that there’s no doubt a criminal element is at play here and I’m smack-dab in the middle.”
“I agree there is a criminal element at work.” Her voice took on that soothing, you’ll-do-as-I-want tone he’d heard her use on others.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth despite himself. She really was something, this beautiful and determined deputy.
“But until you’re proven to be a criminal, I have to consider you a witness and a victim.” Her words were a punch to the gut.
He let out a scoff. “I’m a victim, all right. A victim of a defective mind.”
“Can you hold off on the pity party until we get out of here?”
He barked out a laugh. The woman never gave an inch. He liked that about her.
Audrey drew in a breath. “John, you also have to consider the fact that someone might have betrayed you.”
The darkness pressed in on him. Had someone betrayed him? Was that what this was all about? The reason someone wanted him dead? His fingers curled into a tight fist.
Audrey’s cell phone lit up as she dialed the sheriff. She covered the screen with her hand to mute the light. The ringing of the sheriff’s phone placed him still in the side yard. Audrey put the phone on speaker when the sheriff answered.
“I’m taking John out of here through the tunnels,” she informed him. “Then I’m driving him to the captain’s.”
Where exactly was this captain located? And what tunnels? John kept his curiosity in check. He’d ask later.
There was a moment of silence before the sheriff responded. “That’s probably the safest place. I’ll send Paulson with you and then I’ll relieve him tomorrow.”
“Fine. Tell Dan to go home and pack a bag. Ask him if he has anything that might fit John,” Audrey said. “John and I will swing by and pick him up in an hour after I’ve stopped by my place.”
“Copy.” The sheriff hesitated before adding, “Audrey, be careful.”
“Of course.” She hung up and grabbed John’s arm and slid her hand down until she clasped his hand. “Come on. We’re leaving.”
He allowed her to pull him from the vestibule to one of the double doors. “Uh, how exactly are we getting out of here?”
“Have you ever heard of the Embargo Act of 1807?” She led him into the sanctuary.
“Couldn’t tell you one way or another.”
“Right. Okay, fair enough.” Moonlight streamed through the high stained glass windows, allowing enough multicolored shards of light for them to weave their way through the pews toward the front of the church. “Construction on this church began in 1805 and was finished in 1810. In the year 1807, President Jefferson imposed an embargo on foreign trade that lasted for two years. Needless to say the whole Down East was hit hard. The small settlement at Calico Bay was in jeopardy of disappearing. Being that people still needed to export and import goods, the craftsmen working on the church devised a plan. They proceeded to build a tunnel under the church that extends all the way to the cliffs.”
She knelt in front of the altar and patted the floor. He squatted next to her. “Lose something?”
“I’m looking for the handle. It’s inlaid into the wood.”
