High in Trial (21 page)

He went down in a rain of gunfire, and that was when I found the breath to scream,
“
Noooo
!”

But it was too late.

~*~

EIGHTEEN

The Aftermath

I
remember the wail of sirens was like the howl of coyotes, drawing closer and closer
and louder and louder in those endless seconds of death-quiet before the world started
spinning again. Suddenly no more gunfire. Suddenly only broken sobs in the stillness,
the thin high bark of a small-breed dog. The smell of cordite and dust and spicy nachos.
The drone of a distant RV generator. And then somewhere above my head was a sharp
command that had the word “Secure!” in it. I remember that, even though before it
was spoken I was already half-running, half-crawling, stumbling and falling, heaving
great big choking, horrified gasping breaths, and then I was in Miles’s arms.

I remember that it was like being squeezed by a boulder. I remember the taste of his
jacket and the salt of my own tears in my mouth, the rock-hard pressure of his chest
and arms, and whispers in my ear, something like, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. It
is.” And Cisco, my big golden guy, worming his way between us, his hot breath on my
face, his thick silky fur clasped in my fist. The sound of my ragged breath
filled my ears.
M
y face
,
slick with mucous and tears and mud
,
pressed first against Cisco’s fur and then against Miles’s chest. My throat was thick
with sobs and I clung to them both, hard. I banged one fist feebly against Miles’s
chest.

“You went back for him, you idiot.” The words were a muffled string of slobber and
sobs. “You went back for my dog. You saved him. You went back for my dog.”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You scared me so much! You idiot!” I tried to hit his chest again, but my fist went
flat against it, pressing deep into his heartbeat instead. “You scared me so much.”

I felt his fingers threading through my hair, cupping my scalp. His voice was husky.
“Now you know the feeling.”

“It’s not just something people say,” I whispered wetly. “It’s not!”

Miles took my face in his hands and he kissed me, there in the dust in the middle
of an AKC trial, mud, mucous, tears, and all, and he said, “I know.”

I clung to them, the two guys I loved, until the noise and the shuddering and the
terror subsided. We were okay.

We were all okay.

*    *    *

Four people were taken to the hospital, most with minor injuries from falls or shrapnel.
A bullet
had
grazed Agent Ledbetter’s shoulder, but he considered the injury minor and was back
on the scene with his arm in a dark sling long before the questioning of the witnesses
was complete. No dogs were hurt, although some escaped their handlers and were so
agitated it took hours to find them. The timely intervention of the SWAT team, who
were on site only minutes after Berman arrived, could be thanked for the lack of significant
casualties. And, though it was never widely known outside the law enforcement community,
Sheriff Buck Lawson of Hanover County, North Carolina, could be thanked for alerting
local authorities to the likely whereabouts and intentions of the perpetrator.

Jeremiah Allen Berman was taken down by a single bullet to the head seventeen seconds
after his shooting rampage began. It seemed much longer than that.

“The browser history on his stolen cell phone showed he’d been stalking you for weeks,”
Agent Ledbetter explained. He’d been our liaison for information, keeping Miles and
Cisco and me separated from the others while still making sure we were informed. “Probably
since he got out of prison. You’ve had links to this dog show on your website since
February, and it was easy to track your movements on Facebook.”

Though the April afternoon was at least as mild as it had been yesterday, it was cold
in the shadows where we sat on the bleachers, or at least it seemed so to me. Even
with the jacket Miles had draped over my shoulders and the paper cup of coffee that
warmed my hands, even with the gentle happy heat of the golden retriever who pressed
against my legs, I couldn’t stop the occasional shiver.

“Berman acquired some basic computer skills in prison,” Ledbetter went on, “and probably
picked up the rest while he was living with his brother in Georgia. The phone belonged
to his fourteen-year-old niece. But there’s no doubt he’d been planning this for a
long time.”

I had managed to get a call through to Buck. He explained that Berman had sworn vengeance
on my father, who was the judge who sent him to prison, but he’d been annoyingly vague
on the details. I supposed he was right—details didn’t matter. What mattered was that
no one had been seriously hurt, and Berman would never threaten anyone else again.

Miles said, “So it was Berman who tried to get Raine to leave her room last night?”

Ledbetter nodded somberly. “Most likely. One of the hotel guests was able to identify
him as the man who tried to get her to let him into the building yesterday, as well.”

“Sarah,” I said softly, repressing a shudder. “She was so lucky he didn’t hurt her.”

“There were quite a few people around yesterday evening, and he probably wasn’t willing
to take that chance. If he could’ve gotten her alone inside the building, though,
it might have been another story.”

His face tightened, though whether the white lines that appeared around his lips were
from the pain associated with his wound or from the memory of Marcie
, I couldn’t tell
. “Apparently,” he went on, “Marcie left her room to walk her dog shortly after Berman
called your room last night. We’re still matching DNA, but I suspect it will show
it was Berman who attacked her. He had a picture of you on his phone with Marcie’s
dog, and she was wearing a sweatshirt and baseball cap just like yours. In the dark,
he may have mistaken her for you.”

I closed my eyes and had to take long, deep breaths to keep down the bitter gorge
that wanted to rise in my throat. Miles’s arm went around my shoulders.

“He had a dog bite on his hand,” Agent Ledbetter added. When I opened my eyes, I saw
the faintest ghost of a wan smile touch his lips. “It’s likely that might have affected
his aim. The dog might not have been able to save her mistress, but who knows how
many other lives she saved today.”

I entwined my fingers in Cisco’s fur, leaned my head into Miles’s shoulder, and tried
very hard not to cry.

*    *    *

“Thank God,” Wyn kept saying. “Thank God no one was killed. Do you know how many of
these things
don’t
end that way? Just… thank God you were able to get the police there in time.” She
reached across and squeezed Buck’s hand.

They sat on the small deck Buck had constructed on the back of his house, sipping
beers and watching the sun go down over the treetops. Soon he would fire up the grill
and take some steaks out of the fridge, but not yet. For the moment, he just wanted
to be still and be with her, and be glad that this time, this time everything had
turned out all right.

He
had turned off the television news and the computer and put his phone on “emergency
only.” He had talked to Raine, he had talked to Roe; he’d talked to Maude and the
Pembroke police chief and the SBI. His office had been giving him updates by the minute.
But it was over. For now, at least, it could just be over.

He said quietly, “I still can’t get over Judge Stockton. I don’t think I ever will.”

She looked at him with sympathy and with a gentle wisdom beyond her years. “The things
that a man—or a woman—will do for love don’t have to make sense. In fact, they shouldn’t.”

Buck cast her a sharp and argumentative look, but she stopped him with a shake of
her head. “It wasn’t Maude he did it for,” she said. “That’s what you’ve got to understand.
It was his wife, and Raine. Those were the great loves of his life, and even from
beyond the grave he tried to protect them. I hope someone takes the trouble to explain
it to Raine that way.”

After a moment, he smiled at her. “I’ll make sure somebody does.”

She sipped her beer. “You know,” she said, gazing at the sunset, “Roe was there when
it happened. If he’d asked the right questions all those years ago, all of this might
have been prevented. But he didn’t.” She looked across at Buck. “You did. You figured
it out.”

He lifted his beer bottle in a toast to her. “I had a little help.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgment and shared the toast to herself. “Damn straight.”

He just watched her, smiling. “Which reminds me, I have something for you. A couple
of things, actually.”

He reached into his pocket and brought out a folded sheaf of papers. She took them
curiously and her face lit up with relief as she read the first one. “Your filing
papers. You’ve decided to run for reelection.” She pressed the papers to her heart
for one brief, passionate moment, like a hug. “You’re doing the right thing, Buck.
The
only
thing, for you, this county, everyone. I’m so proud of you!” She leaned forward to
kiss him, but he held up a staying hand.

“There’s a condition,” he said. “Look at the next one.”

She shuffled the papers until she came to the next set. She murmured aloud, without
looking up, “Application for employment, Hanover County Sheriff’s Department.”

Buck said, “I have a feeling you’ll get the job.”

She looked up at him with a gathering storm of mixed emotions in her eyes, but he
spoke over her. “I need you, Wyn,” he said firmly. “The department needs you. The
county needs you. Hell, the biggest mistake I made when I took over was accepting
your resignation. Come back. Let’s do what we do best together.”

Her brow knitted, a dozen conflicting emotions skewed her face. She dropped her eyes
to the papers and lifted them again, helplessly, to Buck. “I don’t know,” she said.
“I want to, of course, but politically… Buck, this could be suicide. Everyone knows
about us. And if you hire me back, it would be like slapping them in the face with
it. All you need is one right-wing bigmouth, not to mention the whole issue of nepotism,
and not to mention how it would complicate our personal lives…”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s
complications.”

He reached again into his pocket and felt two objects there. One was a house key
,
and
the
other was a ring. Slowly, and with deliberation, he hooked his pinky around the ring.
“So I was wondering,” he said, and he brought out the ring, “what you’d think about
getting married?”

*    *    *

The police kept everyone in the pavilion, compiling a witness list and taking statements,
until close to dark. When they finally told us we could go, there was an odd kind
of reluctance to leave, for even though we were bound by tragedy, we were all nonetheless
bound. Cisco said good-bye to Brinkley, and I hugged Sarah even though I couldn’t
quite bring myself to meet her eyes. I was glad, for their sakes, that Ginny and Aggie
had left with Gunny and the border collies before the drama began, but I felt a real
pang of sorrow that I might never see them again. In only a matter of hours these
people, and dogs, had come to mean so much to me. At the same time, I knew the pain
of seeing them again and remembering what
had
happened here wasn’t something I ever wanted to experience.

Miles packed up Cisco’s crate and supplies in the back of my SUV while I said my good-byes
and then came back to walk us to the parking lot. A bluish twilight was starting to
fall over the South Carolina countryside, and the busy agricultural fairgrounds, which
only yesterday had been the site of such joy and colorful activity, seemed bleak and
haunted. Some men were loading the blue and yellow panels of the A-frame into a step
van, and a lone RV pulled away toward the exit. A car door slammed in the distance.
Except for the police vehicles that were parked close to the pavilion, there weren’t
more than half a dozen cars left.

Cisco walked in close heel at my side. After the events of the afternoon, he’d been
very, very careful to keep his attention focused on me. I had so much to apologize
to my dog for. He hadn’t bargained on this. I’d promised him a fun weekend. He’d promised
to do his best. He had kept his promise. I had not.

Miles held my hand. After a time, I glanced at him uncertainly. “Are you mad at me?”

He looked surprised. “For what?”

“For putting you in danger. And me. And everyone. I was worried maybe you wouldn’t
want me to hang out with Mel anymore.” And before he could answer, I burst out, “I
don’t know why these things happen to me, Miles, I really don’t. I don’t mean for
them to. But you’re right. I lead a reckless, dangerous lifestyle, and I’m always
getting into trouble, and I should’ve gone to the beach with you when you asked. I’m
so sorry.”