Love Inspired Suspense October 2015 #1 (35 page)

A third shot rang out.

Nate ducked, kept running and collapsed beside Sara. He winced
as he gripped his shoulder. “Unbelievable.”

“How bad?”

“I think through and through.”

She pulled a scarf from around her neck. “Move your hand so I
can put pressure against the wound.”

“Don't worry about me. Take care of the others.”

Sara ignored him, pried his hand away from the wound and shoved
the scarf in place.

“You have to protect...” Nate's voice trailed off and his head
lolled to the side.

Between his head injury and the bullet wound, he was out of
it.

“Bree?” she called.

“Yes?”

“I need you to come over here and help Nate.”

“Won't they shoot at me?”

“You've got good cover if you stay behind trees and bushes. And
stay low.”

Bree and Fiona darted to where Sara was tending to Nate. No
shots were fired, which confirmed Sara's suspicion that the shooter didn't want
to kill all of them, probably just David and Sara.

“Keep pressure on the wound,” Sara directed Bree.

“Okay.”

Sara grabbed Nate's radio and called in. “Base, this is Sara
Vaughn. We have an officer down and we're taking fire. We need backup. Our
location is—” She paused. “Will, best guess where we are?”

“About one and a half kilometers north of the resort on Cedar
Grove Trail.”

She repeated the information into the radio. There was no
response.

“Base, do you read me, over?” she said.

When no one responded, she decided to take action.

“Bree, stay with Nate.” Sara grabbed Nate's gun and went to
check on Will, again staying low. As she scrambled across the damp terrain, a
shot cracked through the air.

She dived over the fallen tree trunk and landed beside Will and
David. “How's it going over here?”

Will narrowed his eyes. “Just peachy.”

“David?” she said, sitting up.

A blank expression creased his features. “We're all going to
die.”

“Nope, not today.”

“What's the plan?” Will asked.

“I'll draw his fire, then you're going to have to use this.”
She handed Will the gun.

He looked at it. “I don't do guns, and I'm not letting you run
out there like a duck at a shooting gallery.”

“It's our best option.”

“There's got to be another one.”

“I'm open for ideas.” She placed the gun beside Will and turned
to ready herself for the hundred-yard sprint. She wasn't even sure where she was
going, yet she had to draw the guy out of hiding.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to look into
Will's warm green eyes.

“Be careful,” he said. And he brushed a kiss against her
lips.

It was all so surreal: the smell of fresh pine, the kiss and
the incredible warmth from his lips that drifted across her shoulders. How could
something so beautiful be happening at the same time as something so ugly?

Ugly? She'd never thought of her work as ugly before.

Will broke the kiss. “Try calling for backup again,
please?”

She looked beyond him at David, who stared straight ahead at
nothing in particular. He looked to be in shock.

She tried the radio again. “Base, we have an officer down,
over.”

Sara and Will held each other's gazes.

“Base, come in, over.” Another few seconds passed. “They can't
hear us.”

With a sigh, Will closed his eyes. She guessed he was praying.
A few seconds later he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, as if to say
goodbye.

As if he feared she would be shot and killed.

“Do what you think is best,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She hesitated, realizing how deeply he cared about her, and she
him.

“This is Chief Washburn. We're sending a team, over.”

Sara snapped her gaze from Will's and eyed the radio in shock.
“Thanks, Chief,” she said. “Nate called for a SAR team to carry down David
Price. I'm worried about them being in harm's way, over.”

“There are two police officers on that team. We estimate
they're only ten minutes out from your location. How bad is Nate hit, over?”

“Shoulder wound. He also suffered a head injury and is
currently unconscious, over.”

“Doc Spencer is with that first team, plus we have another team
of cops headed your way. Stay put and stay safe, over.”

“You got it, over.”

Another shot rang out. Bree shrieked in fear.

“This is ridiculous.” Sara grabbed the gun, ready to go out
there and shoot blindly at their tormentor.

Will placed his hand over hers. She hesitated and looked into
his eyes.

“Help is on the way,” he said. “There's no need for you to put
yourself at risk.”

“I can't sit here and do nothing while they terrorize us. I
refuse to hide anymore.” She peered around the tree trunk.

“Sara?” Will said.

Irritated, she turned to him.

“Staying here is not the dishonorable thing to do,” he said.
“His goal is to draw you out. If you go after him, he wins. He will have taken
away the only person in our group with the skills to defend us. We need you,
Sara.” He hesitated. “I need you.”

His emerald eyes, so sincere and compassionate, pinned her in
place. She couldn't move if she tried.

“Okay?” he said. “Will you stay and protect us?”

“I... Sure.”

He motioned for her to sit beside him.

“No, I'll keep watch, in case he advances on us,” she said.

Another shot rang out.

“Really?” she snapped.

Fiona burst into a frantic round of barks.

“What's he shooting at? He can't see us,” Will said.

“It's called intimidation,” Sara said. “Bree, it's okay, he
can't see you. You're safe!”

“I don't feel very safe,” she called back.

“I hate this,” Sara muttered.

“Then, let's change it,” Will offered.

“What are you talking about?”

“If there's one thing I've learned in my thirty-four years,
it's that in any given situation we have a choice,” Will said. “A choice to be
fearful or to feel loved.”

“Uh...I know you're religious and all that, but even Jesus
wouldn't feel loved if someone was shooting at him.”

He cracked a smile. “Probably not. Since we're stuck here until
help arrives, and this man's goal is to paralyze us with fear, let's make the
choice to feel something else.”

And then, Will started singing.

“Joy to the world, the Lord is come!” his deep voice rang
out.

Sara felt her jaw drop as she stared at this man with the
peaceful demeanor and beautiful voice, and wondered how she'd ended up here, in
the company of such an amazing human being. They were being used as target
practice, yet he sang instead of panicking.

Then Bree's voice chimed in, and even David croaked out a few
words here and there.

Sara shook her head with wonder. She could only guess what
their assailant was thinking—probably that they were all crazy.

“Repeat the sounding joy,” Will sang, encouraging her to sing
along.

She did, but kept her focus glued to the rugged terrain where
the shooter hid, waiting for an opportunity to take one of them out.

“Repeat the sounding joy,” she sang softly, her eyes scanning
the area.

“This is Officer McBride. We hear you, over,” his voice said
through the radio.

“Officer McBride, this is Sara Vaughn. Nate's been shot and is
unconscious. The shooter is still out there, over.”

“Ten-four.”

“Who's with you?” she asked.

“Officer Duggins, Doc Spencer and Scott Becket.”

She withdrew behind the tree trunk and spoke in a low voice.
“We need to flush this guy out of hiding, over.”

“We're on it. Keep singing to distract him, over.”

She nodded at Will. “You heard them. They want us to keep
singing.”

Will started “Joy to the World” from the beginning, and the
group chimed in. Adjusting her fingers on the gun grip, she aimed around the
tree trunk in case the shooter planned one final suicide move to kill David
Price.

“Police, put your weapon down!” a voice shouted.

Three shots rang out.

She hoped they didn't kill the attacker, because he could
provide more evidence against LaRouche and Harrington if he rolled on them.

She spotted movement behind Bree and Nate.

Sara aimed Nate's weapon...

Scott darted up and over shrubbery and landed beside Bree. He
held her in his arms. Sara eased her finger off the trigger.

“Breathe,” Will said.

She took a slow breath in.

“I've got to get out of here!” David shouted.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sara spotted David take off.

“No!” Will went after him.

“Will!” Sara shouted.

A shot rang out.

Sara sprung out of their hiding spot.

All she could think was
Will was shot!

The shooter was heading her way. Totally focused on Will and
David, both on the ground.

She aimed her weapon. “Hey!”

The guy turned.

Gotta keep him alive.

She fired, hitting him in the shoulder. He kept coming. She
fired again, hitting him in the thigh.

He went down and kept crawling toward David and Will.

She sprinted to the shooter and stepped on his firing hand.
Officer McBride and his team raced up to Sara.

Oh, God, Will can't die. You can't let him die.

“Doctor Spencer,” Sara said. “Will and David... I think one of
them was shot...” She could hear herself stumbling, not making much sense.

“What about Detective Walsh?” Officer McBride asked.

“Over here!” Scott called out.

“Spike, go help Nate.” Officer McBride stepped closer to Sara.
She couldn't take her eyes off the shooter, or her hand still aiming the gun at
his back.

“Agent Vaughn?”

Sara glanced at Officer McBride.

With a nod of respect, he said, “Well-placed shots.”

She nodded her thanks. “Was he the only one?”

“Yes, ma'am. We searched the immediate area. It's clear. Do you
recognize him?”

“No,” Sara said.

The shooter attempted to crawl away.

“Yeah?” Officer McBride dropped and kneeled on his back. He
pulled his arms behind his back to cuff him. “Where do you think you're
going?”

Sara blinked, seeing the gun still at the end of her extended
arm. She was okay. They got the shooter.

But Will... Was he...? She lowered her arm and closed her
eyes.

“Sara?”

She opened her eyes to Will's tentative smile. They went into
each other's arms.

“Was David Price shot?” Officer McBride asked.

“No. He's suffering from dehydration, a possible concussion and
a broken arm,” Will said.

“Well put, Doctor Rankin,” Dr. Spencer said as he examined
David.

“Command, this is Officer McBride,” he spoke into his radio.
“We've located the injured parties, over.” He clicked off the radio. “Scott,
how's Nate?”

“I'm fine,” Nate called back.

“He needs a litter,” Scott countered.

“What are you, my mother?” Nate said.

“And he's belligerent from the head injury,” Bree said.

“This is Chief Washburn. Have the assailants been neutralized,
over?”

“Yes sir, just one, over,” Officer McBride answered.

“Is Will Rankin okay, over?” the chief asked through the
radio.

Everyone looked at Will.

“I'm fine,” Will said.

“He's fine, over,” Officer McBride said.

“A SAR team is on the way to assist. Send Will Rankin down
ASAP.”

“What, why?” Will said.

“Chief, is there a problem?” Officer McBride prompted.

“His mother-in-law is missing.”

FIFTEEN

W
ill paled. “My girls,” he muttered, and headed down the trail.

Sara glanced at Nate for permission to follow Will. After all, she'd shot a man with Nate's gun, and perhaps he wanted her to stay at the scene.

“Go,” Nate said.

She took off after Will, but didn't crowd him. She didn't want him to feel smothered.

More like, she didn't want to see his face twisted with panic and emotional turmoil. She wasn't sure she could handle that.

Coward
, she scolded herself. He'd spent the past few hours keeping everyone sane and calm, and she didn't have the guts to do the same for him?

If she offered comfort and he pushed her away, she'd ignore the rejection and keep on trying.

“Will,” she said, close enough to touch him.

He shook his head. “I can't believe I've put her in danger.”

“Hey, hey, let's not assume anything here.” She finally touched his arm.

He acted as if he didn't even feel her. She let her hand fall to her side.

“Even if it is related to the case, this is not your fault. You did not willingly put your family in danger. LaRouche and Harrington are the ones who deserve the blame.”

She thought he might have nodded. She'd never seen him like this, so lost and closed off.

“I'm not sure...” His voice trailed off. “I'm not sure how I could live without them.”

She darted in front of him and placed her hand against his chest. “Don't talk like that. There's no reason to hurt the girls, even if they have them, which I highly doubt.”

He stepped around her. “Didn't know you had an optimistic streak, Agent Vaughn.”

“Yeah, I'm full of surprises. Now stop going to those dark places and show me how to pray.”

He snapped his attention to her. “What?”

“You heard me. So do I need to fold my hands together or do anything special? Look up to heaven or what?”

“You don't have to do this,” he said.

“I want to.”

His frown eased a bit. “We could recite the Lord's Prayer, I suppose.”

As they made their way back to the resort, they repeated the Lord's Prayer, the words feeling unusually natural as they rolled off her tongue. Color had come back to Will's cheeks, and he had stopped clenching his jaw every few minutes.

For the first time in her life, Sara felt a connection to God as she helped Will avoid the pitfalls of fear and focus on the guiding light of hope.

* * *

Mary's heart raced, pounding against her chest like a jackhammer. Where was she? She slowly blinked her eyes open. White surrounded her. Was she dead?

I'm coming, Megan, I'm coming.

No, Mary couldn't die. Who would take care of the girls? Will was always off on his dangerous adventures, putting his own needs first, before the girls'. And while Edward was a fun grandpa, he wasn't a disciplinarian. Without Mary's influence in their lives, the girls would grow up wild and lost.

She fingered a trail of warm blood trickling down her forehead. No, she wasn't dead. Yet.

She pushed at the billowy white material—the airbag that had saved her life. That was right, she had gone out to get construction paper for Marissa's art project, a project that her father should have helped her finish. But he was too busy saving some strange woman's life—a woman who brought trouble to Echo Mountain. Because of Sara, Mary and Ed were taking the girls out of town tomorrow for a few days.

On the way home from getting construction paper, Mary's tires had lost their grip on the slick road, and she had skidded over an embankment.

She looked left, then right. Surrounded by greenery, trees and bushes, she started to panic.

Then heavy white snow started to fall.

She unbuckled herself and looked over her shoulder. She'd landed at the bottom of a ravine.

In a few hours the car would be covered with snow and no one would even know she was down here. She pushed on the door. It wouldn't budge. She reached across the seat to the other side.

Shoved open the door.

It would only open so far. Not far enough to get her body out. Even if she did, how would she climb up to the street level without help?

Her phone—she had to call for help. Then she remembered leaving it behind because she didn't think she'd be gone that long.

“Somebody help! Help me!” she wailed.

She slammed her blood-smudged palm against the horn three times. Waited. Punched three more times.

She couldn't die this way, withering away, probably starving to death.

Alone.

Mama, I love you, but you're going to die a lonely old woman if you don't start softening your edges with the girls
, Megan had lectured.

Mary couldn't help herself. She worried about everything and everyone, especially the girls, since their father seemed to let them do whatever they wanted. That was no way to raise a family.

Yet they adored him. Mary saw it in their eyes every time Claire and Marissa saw their dad after being apart for even a few hours.

Suddenly Mary wondered if all this anger she felt toward Will was really coming from somewhere other than worry. No, she was dizzy from the accident, that was all.

Be honest with yourself, Mary.

She finally admitted that her resentment and anger were born of fear, fear that the girls would forget their mother, Mary's pride and joy. Mary feared Will would bring another woman into their lives, they'd forget about their mom and Grandma would be cast aside like a used paper towel.

“No!” she shouted, gasping for breath as fear smothered her.

She slammed her palms on the horn again, desperate to stay alive, to see her granddaughters, to hold them, to show them she did, in fact, have softer edges.

“I can't die!” she cried, slamming her hands on the horn.

Something thudded against the passenger door. She shrieked.

Will shot her a smile and a casual wave. “Looks as if you took a wrong turn, Nanny.”

“Oh, Will!” she sobbed with relief.

Another man came up beside Will, about Will's age with a full beard and jet-black hair. Mary didn't recognize him.

“Is she okay?” the bearded fellow asked.

“She'll be better when we get this door open.”

They managed to get the door open. Will reached in and touched her shoulder.

Which only made her cry more.

“Hey, it's okay, Mary,” Will said in a gentle voice.

She couldn't stop crying. With relief, with gratitude and maybe even with shame.

Will, of all people, had found her. He'd saved her. She'd been so nasty to him since Megan's death, so judgmental.

“We've located her,” Will said into a radio. “She seems okay, a little banged up.” He hesitated. “Mary, where are you hurt?”

“Everywhere.” She sighed.

“Can you be a little more specific?”

“My head's bleeding and my chest aches. That's about it.”

“That's plenty.” Will clicked on his radio. “We need a litter and two more guys.” He nodded at Mary. “You're going to be fine.”

“I can't believe you found me.”

“Of course I found you. My girls would be lost without their Nanny. Griff here has got more medical training than me, so we're going to switch spots, okay?”

She squeezed his hand, not wanting to let go. “Could you... Would you be able to... Never mind.” She didn't have the gall to ask him to stay close considering the way she'd treated him.

She released Will's hand and he backed out. His partner climbed into the car. “Hi, Mary, I'm Griffin Keane. I'm going to examine your head wound to see how serious it is, okay?”

“Sure.” As he reached out to remove hair from the wound, she closed her eyes.

A moment later, she felt Will's hand settle on her shoulder from behind. He'd climbed into the backseat.

She reached up and placed her hand over his. “I get it now,” she said. “This is what you do with your time off, rescue little old ladies.”

“Little, big, old, young, we don't discriminate,” Will said. “We make sure we're ready to go when and where we're needed.”

“On call for others,” Griffin muttered as he placed a bandage on Mary's forehead.

As understanding opened her heart to compassion, Mary felt more alive than she ever had. She looked over her shoulder at Will. “I'm so sorry.”

“Aw, don't worry about it. Ed never liked this car anyway.”

“That's not what I meant.”

He winked. “I know.”

* * *

Two hours later, Will waited at the hospital for news about Mary. He had truly felt God's presence when he'd rescued her from the car. It was the first time he'd felt a connection to Mary: a positive, healthy connection.

As they had waited for the second team to assist, Mary had confessed her fears about Will and the girls forgetting Megan. He'd assured her that would
never
happen because he and Mary would remind the girls what a wonderful mother Megan had been.

Will closed his eyes and sighed. Through all the danger and threat of violence over the past few days, he'd come to accept that Megan hadn't pushed Will away because she hadn't had confidence in him as a husband to take care of her. Rather, she had feared for him as a father, a challenging position for even the strongest person. Megan had wanted Will to practice being a single parent while she was still around to advise.

So much sacrifice. So much love.

“How about some tea?”

He opened his eyes to Sara, the determined federal agent he'd somehow fallen in love with.

“Sure,” he said, and she handed him the paper cup. He clenched his jaw against the awareness that sparked between them every time they touched.

She sat down next to him. “What aren't you telling me?”

“Excuse me?” He snapped his attention to her.

“That jaw-clench thing usually means trouble.”

“No, Mary's good, pretty minor injuries considering. When I first saw the car at the bottom of that ravine...” His voice trailed off.

Sara touched his arm. “But she's okay.”

“She is, and I think narrowly escaping death has changed her a bit.”

“It usually does.” Sara studied her teacup. “Not always for the better.”

He guessed she was referring to her father's death.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Claire and Marissa sprinted across the hospital lobby. He put the teacup on the table beside him and opened his arms. They launched themselves at him and he held them close.

“How are my girls?”

“Hey, Will. Thank-you doesn't seem like enough,” his father-in-law said.

“I should be thanking you for taking care of my rascals.”

Marissa leaned back. “Daddy, I'm not a rascal. Did you really rescue Nanny from a car wreck?”

“I did.”

“Does she have a broken nose?” Marissa asked.

“No, what makes you ask that?” Will realized Claire's face was still buried against his shoulder.

“Because Olivia's mother got in a car wreck and her nose was broken, and she wore this big white bandage here.” She pressed little-girl fingers on her nose.

“Well, Nanny's nose is fine. She's got some scratches and bruises. She'll be A-OK.”

“Hi, Miss Sara.” Marissa went in for a hug and Sara hugged back.

Will turned his attention to Claire. “Baby doll?”

She tipped her head and whispered into his ear. “I know about the guy in the mountains trying to shoot you. I didn't tell Marissa. She'd have nightmares.”

His heart sank. He didn't want either of his daughters knowing about the danger. “I'm okay, sweetie,” he whispered back. “Miss Sara protected us.”

“Mr. Varney,” a nurse called from the ER doorway. “Your wife can see you now.”

“I'm going, I'm going!” Marissa rushed to her grandfather's side.

“What about you, Claire bear?” Ed asked.

“I need to stay with Daddy,” her muffled voice said against his neck.

Ed took Marissa into the examining area.

“I should give you some privacy,” Sara said.

“No, wait.” Will reached out and grabbed her hand. “Don't leave.”

Sara nodded and clung to Will's hand.

Claire sniffled against his neck. She was crying.

Compassion colored Sara's blue eyes as she studied his little girl. She'd make such a great mother some day, a fierce protector. He suspected she would brush off such a suggestion.

She slipped her hand from his and reached out to stroke the back of Claire's head. “Your daddy was so brave. He was never frightened, and he made us all feel safe.”

Claire turned her head to look at Sara. “He did?”

“I did?” Will said.

“Yep, and you know how?”

Claire shook her head that she didn't.

“He sang.”

“He's a good singer.”

When Sara looked at Will, his heart warmed in his chest.

“He's good at many things,” Sara said softly.

He sensed someone approach from the left. “Will, where is he? Where's Nate?”

Cassie McBride towered over him.

“He's being patched up in the ER,” Will said.

“I'm fine, thank you very much,” Bree said, walking up to them.

“Bree, Bree, you're here, too!” Cassie threw her arms around her sister and hugged her tight.

“Yeah, I thought you heard about—”

“Where's Nate?” Cassie broke the hold and looked into her sister's eyes.

“In there.” She pointed.

Cassie dashed toward the examining area as Nate was being wheeled out.

“Are you okay?” Cassie said. “Where were you shot? Does it hurt? Where are they taking you?”

“Yes... The shoulder... No, thanks to the pain meds, and I don't know.” Nate tipped his head toward the orderly. “Where are you taking me? To Hawaii, I hope.”