Chapter Seventeen
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Gunfire exploded around Kincade. It was a sharp, relentless staccato that shredded the quiet of the cemetery.
He dropped low and dove behind a thick marble headstone as another bullet cracked past his ear.
Dirt and stone chipped away in his peripheral vision.
He gritted his teeth and raised his weapon, keeping his aim low.
Jericho was out there somewhere, moving fast and quiet, and Kincade couldn’t risk catching him in the crossfire.
The masked attacker and Marlene were both firing now, wild and angry. Their loud and close gunshots came from opposite directions. The chaos was deafening. Kincade pressed his shoulder into the stone for cover, peering out just long enough to get a fix on the attacker’s location.
“You bastard!” Marlene screamed from somewhere behind a tree. “You shot me!”
Kincade’s heart pounded as he scanned the tree line for movement, waiting for an opening. The bastard wasn’t just a threat to them now. He was firing at everyone, including the woman who had helped set this entire mess in motion. But Marlene was firing her own share of shots as well.
Kincade leaned out just enough to scan the rows of headstones ahead.
He spotted Cassidy and Travis crouched low behind separate markers, their bodies tense and ready.
Travis had his hands free and was gripping a gun.
Good. Because they might need all the firepower they could get to put an end to this.
Cassidy glanced at Kincade, their eyes locking for a second. She was still in the fight, and the storm of bullets was pinning them all down.
He wanted to ask her if she was all right. Wanted to say he was sorry for not stopping this nightmare before it had engulfed them. But that was going to have to wait. A lot of things were going to have to wait. For now, he needed answers to help him put an end to this.
Kincade forced his attention from Cassidy and turned toward the shooters. “Marlene?” he shouted. “Who is that? Who’s behind the mask?”
Silence answered him.
Then, more shots. Not aimed at him this time.
They tore through the trees in Marlene’s direction. She let out a sharp cry, followed by a string of panicked curses.
Marlene had been hit again. He was sure of it.
Another shot cracked into the air, and then Kincade saw her dragging herself through the underbrush, leaving a trail of blood behind her. She disappeared behind a cluster of headstones, vanishing from view.
Kincade swore under his breath. Whoever was behind the mask wasn’t just trying to kill Travis anymore. He was tying up every loose end he could find. That obviously included Marlene.
And the rest of them.
Marlene’s voice rose in a strangled groan. “I’m bleeding out!”
Kincade shifted, his back pressed hard to the cold stone behind him. “I can get you help,” he shouted. “We’ll call an ambulance. But it has to stop. Everyone needs to stop shooting.”
The words had barely left his mouth when another shot blasted through the air. It hit the headstone just inches from his head, splintering marble and sending sharp bits flying.
He dropped lower, heart slamming against his ribs. Dirt smeared his palms as he steadied himself, eyes scanning for the source. The masked gunman was still out there, and he wasn’t interested in surrender or negotiations.
Kincade spotted a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned just enough to see Jericho crouched low behind a cluster of headstones. Jericho caught his gaze and gave a quick motion with two fingers before pointing around the far edge of the cemetery.
He was going to try and flank the bastard.
Kincade gave the barest nod. He couldn’t move without drawing fire. He was pinned down with nothing but half a broken stone marker shielding him. But Jericho might be able to get to the gunman and put a stop to this.
Jericho had barely had time to duck out of sight when the shots stopped. Just stopped.
Kincade’s pulse kicked harder in his ears. Was the shooter reloading? Or backing off? If he’s running, maybe Jericho could intercept him. To keep the shooter’s attention away from Jericho, Kincade raised his voice.
“Marlene,” he shouted. “You said Alisha ruined everything. Talk to me. Tell me how she ruined things.”
Silence pressed down on the graveyard. No more gunfire. No movement.
He held his breath, hoping she would answer. Hoping Jericho could make it to the shooter without being detected.
Kincade stayed low, the gravel biting into his palms as he braced himself behind the headstone. And he continued to wait for Marlene to respond. Just when he had given up hope, when he’d thought that she had passed out from her gunshot, she finally spoke.
Marlene’s voice came, ragged and thick with pain. “Alisha was going to tell Daniel’s wife,” she said. “Said he didn’t deserve her. Alisha adored that woman. Babysat for her kids. Looked up to her.”
Kincade listened, the pieces shifting fast in his mind. Marlene’s breaths were sharp and strained. He didn’t know how much time she had left, but he needed those answers from her.
“When Alisha saw me and Daniel, she said it was wrong,” Marlene added. “That she was going to tell his wife the next day.”
Kincade swallowed hard. His gut twisted.
“That’s why she was killed,” he said loud enough for his voice to carry. He continued to keep watch, too, in case the shooter was trying to sneak up on Travis, Cassidy or him. “Because she threatened to expose him.”
Marlene didn’t reply, but her silence said enough.
All this time, they’d been chasing shadows. A young girl murdered not because of what she did, but because of what she knew. Because she refused to stay silent. And someone had made damn sure she never got the chance to speak.
Kincade shifted, rising just enough to peer over the edge of the gravestone. “Who killed her, Marlene?” he called out. “Was it Daniel? Or was it you?”
There was a pause, broken only by the soft rasp of Marlene’s breathing. Then a hoarse sob tore from her throat.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she choked. “I swear—”
The rest of her words were cut off by a sudden burst of gunfire with the bullets cracking against stone and dirt. Not random. Not warning shots. These were precise. Intentional.
Kincade twisted to track the direction, heart slamming against his ribs. The shooter wasn’t retreating. He was advancing. And he was moving straight toward Marlene.
“Damn it,” Kincade muttered, raising his weapon. The bastard was coming to finish what he started.
Kincade didn’t have to like Marlene to know he couldn’t let her be executed. Not like this. Not in cold blood.
“Jericho!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos of those gunshots. “I’m moving!”
He hoped to hell that Jericho heard him. Friendly fire was the last thing they needed.
Kincade pushed off the ground and sprinted low to the next headstone, heart pounding, boots digging into the soft grass. Bullets cracked against the stone just as he dropped behind it, too close for comfort.
Marlene screamed again, a ragged, panicked sound that twisted in his gut. She was trying to crawl away, her hand dragging through the dirt as she pulled herself behind a narrow slab of granite. It wouldn’t protect her. Not for long.
Another shot rang out, then another. The shooter was closing in. Kincade moved again, harder this time, pushing toward the tree line. If he could flank the shooter, if he could just get a clean shot—
He landed hard behind another stone, gravel scraping his elbow. The next burst of gunfire was even closer.
Too close.
He didn’t have much time. And neither did Marlene.
Marlene raised her gun with trembling hands and fired. The shot cracked through the cemetery, wild and high, smashing into the headstone just inches above Cassidy’s head.
“Cassidy!” Kincade’s heart seized in his chest.
“I’m good,” she shouted back.
But she wasn’t the one bleeding.
Travis let out a pained grunt and dropped to his knees, clutching his arm. Blood soaked through the sleeve of his shirt, dark and fast.
Kincade watched as Cassidy did a quick check of her brother’s arm. She said something to Travis, something Kincade didn’t catch, and then Cassidy took off. Making her way toward Marlene.
“Damn it,” Kincade growled.
They were falling apart one by one, pinned down, picked off. Marlene was half-conscious and flailing. Cassidy was exposed. Travis was hit. And that son of a bitch was still out there, still shooting.
“Enough of this shit,” Kincade snarled.
He surged from behind cover, adrenaline flooding his system. He charged toward the trees, eyes locked on the flash of movement behind the brush.
“Jericho, I’ve got him!” he shouted.
The shooter turned, weapon raised, but Kincade fired first. The shot caught the man across the temple. Not a kill shot, but enough to send him reeling.
The man staggered back, stumbled, then reached up and ripped off his ski mask.
And Kincade stopped cold when he saw the shooter’s face.
It was Sheriff Becker.
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