Chapter 24
24
Time moved in slow motion as Aaron knelt over Belinda’s body, his hands pressing where the blood seeped, not taking his eyes off her to shout for help. “Belinda… baby… oh fuck… sweetheart… oh fuck, oh fuck… ”
With all the screaming, scrambling, tables overturning, shouts, and cries around, he finally lifted his head to shout again. “Help me! Fucking help me!”
Other people dropped to their knees around him, their hands moving to assist. He was vaguely aware of other shouts for people to take cover.
He shot a glance over to look for help, seeing everyone else on the floor, men covering their loved ones’ bodies, others scrambling to get away. Tables were overturned and chairs knocked to the side, but no more shots were fired.
“Get an ambulance!”
Recognizing his partner’s voice, he felt rather than saw Sam as he dropped next to Aaron.
“Let me in here.” With a quick glance at the woman kneeling on the other side of Belinda, he recognized Judith, a doctor in Baytown and the wife of Ryan Coates, the VMP Captain.
“Baby, get my bag! From the car!” Judith yelled, and Ryan’s footsteps disappeared off the dance floor.
“I’ve called for the ambulance.” This assurance came from Zac Hamilton, the captain of the Baytown rescue squad. He and Judith began working on Belinda.
Her shirt was ripped open, but it was impossible for Aaron to tell where the bullet hit with the amount of blood covering her chest. Zac gently moved Aaron’s hands out of the way as he grabbed a large white cloth and pressed it against the wound.
“Aaron, buddy, I’m here,” Sam said, still next to him and at Belinda’s feet. Rage began to sift into his disbelief. “Get the goddamn fucker, Sam. Just get the fucker!”
“Don’t worry about it,” Sam said. “Most of the people here have a fuckin’ badge, and everybody’s searching or making sure the others are safely inside the restaurant.”
“What the fuck?” he murmured, his chest aching as he stared down at Belinda’s pale complexion, willing for her eyes to open even as they remained closed. “Christ! What the fuck happened?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said, his words scraped out.
In the background, Aaron could hear Colt barking orders to the multitude of law enforcement officers in the area.
“Where the fuck was he? Where the fuck was the shooter?”
“It came from the direction of the beach,” Sam said.
He jerked his head around, and his law enforcement training fled him in the face of Belinda getting shot.
“Some of us were watching you two dance,” Sam explained. “Hayley had just said it was about time. The way Belinda’s body… shit, man. The way she jerked, the shot came from the direction of the water.”
“One shot? One fucking shot!” he shouted, then flinched. “Somebody fires one fucking random shot and hits her? Christ, they must’ve been after me and got her instead.”
Judith and Zac continued to work on Belinda as the sound of sirens filled the air, mingling with the cries of others. The paramedics pushed past everyone, but Aaron refused to let go of her hand even though his was soaked in her blood.
“Sir, you need to move out of the way?—”
“Not happening,” he growled. “Do what you gotta do, but I’m holding on to her.” As long as he had his hand wrapped around hers and his forefinger pressed on her wrist, he could feel her pulse. As long as he could feel her pulse, he knew she was fucking alive.
He continued to hold her as they maneuvered her onto the stretcher and didn’t let go as he jogged at her side toward the ambulance that had pulled as close to the dance floor as it could.
“Aaron.”
He turned at the soft voice and spied Ivy standing next to him, her face tight with worry.
“I’ll meet you at the hospital. Andy’s gone out on the water with the others,” she said.
Her words didn’t make sense, and she must’ve realized that because she shook her head slightly and added, “They think the shot was fired from someone out on the water. Andy, Ryan, and all the others from the VMP are getting out there. Andy’ll make it to the hospital as soon as he can.”
With a weighty nod, he knew his older brother would’ve rushed into action. “Call Dad for me,” he called, casting the words over his shoulder like a lifeline as the paramedics lifted Belinda’s stretcher into the back of the ambulance. Trusting she would, he shifted his attention forward and climbed in after her.
As the ambulance doors swung closed, he glanced from her unmoving form to look out the back window. The scene of disaster bore little resemblance to the celebration they had enjoyed such a short time earlier. The reception now resembled a war zone. The guests had all been swiftly herded into the restaurant nearby, and Colt’s stalwart leadership had taken command, directing the others working the crime scene.
Crime scene. His chest depressed as the air fled his lungs. The dance floor where he and Belinda had shared a dance of hopeful beginnings was being cordoned off. Where he’d held Belinda in his arms was now a scene of violence. And she was the victim.
Colt’s jaw felt like a vise squeezed it as the muscles tensed to the brink of pain. He wondered if the bones would crack under the pressure of his fury. The notion that someone dared to fire a weapon into a gathering of wedding guests, particularly one swarming with law enforcement personnel, left him seething. Yet two hours after the chaos erupted, they didn’t have a fucking clue of the assailant’s identity.
Heavy-duty lights were brought in to illuminate the scene, including the narrow shore. Deputies combed the beach after ascertaining there were no footprints. The tide had been in during the wedding, and now that it had receded, they scoured the sand meticulously. No one was on the beach, hiding in the dark to fire into the crowd.
Detectives from North Heron County and Accawmacke County Sheriff’s offices had convened inside the restaurant, diligently taking statements from the shaken guests, letting them go after each had been interviewed. His fellow sheriff and good friend, Liam Sullivan, had been directing his staff but had now moved to stand next to Colt.
“So far, no one saw anything,” Liam reported, frustration evident in his voice. “Some near the DJ’s speakers didn’t realize a weapon had been discharged and just saw people running away. Others didn’t know what had happened until Belinda was on the ground and they saw blood. Obviously, our men and women recognized the sound of gunfire, but the way the sound ricocheted across the water, paired with the fear that someone was going to release a volley of bullets, they grabbed others to shove them to the ground.”
Colt scrubbed his hand over his face. He’d lost his jacket and tie long ago but, heated with frustration despite the cool night air, had his dress shirt sleeves rolled up. His wife, Carrie, and their teenage son, Jack, had retreated to their home to tend to their youngest child after giving their statements. He dropped his chin to stare at his shoes—the memory of dancing with his wife, having a moment of peace before the chaos erupted, caused a sharp ache in his chest. He’d gone down, his large body covering hers as he looked around, not breathing until his gaze landed on Jack. His son had grabbed a woman nearby and covered her, too. It hit him that the son of his heart was also a protector. That thought alone gave him peace in the midst of the disaster.
Turning his mind back to the scene before him, he watched as Hunter approached. Colt had coordinated with Ryan Coates, who’d taken control of the water patrol after it became apparent the shot had been fired from the water. Unfortunately, no one had heard anything with the screaming that began within a few seconds of the gunfire.
Hunter had been dancing with his wife near Aaron. While he’d crashed to the floor with Belle underneath his body, he’d looked out toward the water and heard the sound of a boat motor, but the boat was traveling without lights.
Hunter stopped next to Colt, and the two men stood for a moment, looking around at the still-active crime scene. “What does your gut tell you?” Colt asked. He trusted Hunter’s insight as well as his intuition. Hunter’s career included active duty in the military, and then he served with the state police, working undercover in a major drug sting operation. He was now giving his talents to Colt’s department.
Hunter sighed. “It feels calculated. If someone wanted to kill a lot of people, they would have brought an automatic weapon and unleashed it on the whole area. If someone wanted to wreak fear and havoc, the one random shot would create that, but to what end? I have no fuckin’ clue other than someone wanting attention or having a specific aim.”
“What about Aaron? Do any of his cases look suspect? Is there any reason someone would just be after him?”
“If so, then someone ordered a sniper because there’s no fuckin’ way a pissed-off amateur shooter would manage that shot from a boat.”
“So it could be a random asshole who just got his jollies shooting into a wedding full of law enforcement or someone with money and hired a sniper.”
“Sorry, boss. That’s the way I see it.”
Colt tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck in an ineffective effort to ease the tension radiating along his jaw. “Okay, then. As soon as the interviews are over and the guests have all gone, I’ll station a few deputies to guard the area until we get daylight. Then I want everyone in the station for roll call.”
“You heading home?”
Colt shook his head. He knew where his place was, and unfortunately, right now, it wasn’t at home, in bed, curled around Carrie after checking on their kids tucked in their beds. “No. Heading to the hospital. I sent Sam there already, and I want to make sure Aaron knows we have his back.”
With gazes held and chin lifts that said a helluva lot more than just goodbye, they separated, and Colt grabbed his suit coat and tie and then jogged to the parking lot. It had been a long fucking day, and it wasn’t close to being over.