Chapter 24
Peter pulled Hailey deeper into the woods. He wasn’t familiar with this area, but getting out of sight was more important than knowing where they were going. Once they’d put some distance between themselves and the road, they could stop to reevaluate things.
He had no idea if the shooter would continue to pursue them. Or if the revving engine he’d heard was even their assailant. What he did know was that the situation had shifted. Whoever was after Hailey was still out there, and they were out for blood.
Beside him, Hailey panted—from the exertion or from fear, he wasn’t sure. She hadn’t complained though, despite the rough ground and brambles that had to be tortuous to run through barefoot and in a skirt that provided no protection to her lower legs.
His own breaths came fast, but he was doing okay.
He’d worked hard to regain his strength and stamina over the last two years, and unlike the woman running alongside him, he’d dressed casually today.
Though he wouldn’t normally work out in blue jeans and steel-toed boots, he was thankful for the protection they provided.
He only wished Hailey had that same protection.
They ran for several more minutes, following a random zigzag pattern to lessen the chances of being found easily. But eventually, he felt Hailey slowing. He needed to find a place where they could hunker down and rest—and call for backup if they had signal.
A thicket loomed not too far ahead of them. That would be as good a place as any. He tightened his grip on Hailey’s hand. “Just a little farther,” he whispered.
She nodded but didn’t reply. They reached the thicket, and he quickly moved some of the branches aside and pulled Hailey into the hollow with him.
They sat with their backs as close to the base of the plant as they could get.
It wasn’t perfect coverage, but the leaves should help conceal them as long as no one looked too closely.
Hailey pulled her knees to her chest and lowered her head against them. She was breathing harder now. He hoped she wouldn’t hyperventilate. He hated that he’d had to push her so hard, but they hadn’t had much choice.
He shifted in the small space until he was able to extract his phone from his back pocket. Miraculously, he had a signal. Only one bar, but that should be enough to call or get a text out.
Deciding to start with a text so he wouldn’t make any more noise than necessary, he found Detective Thornton’s number and sent a quick message with their general location and a request for help. Before he’d finished drafting a more detailed message, three dots appeared on the screen, then a reply.
Be there ASAP. Someone already called it in. Officers on the way.
He released a silent sigh of relief. After sending his follow-up text, he nudged Hailey.
She lifted her head wearily, and he tilted his phone her way.
As she read the message thread, he studied her.
He hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at her since the bullets started flying.
Anger filled him as he took in the tiny cuts on her face and arms. The scratches covering her legs.
Her right hand was clamped awkwardly over the fleshy part of her calf.
Peter looked closer. Blood dripped from beneath her fingers—more than a brush with a thorny bush would account for.
“What happened to your leg?” He managed to keep his voice to a whisper, but inside he was shouting.
“One of the bullets grazed me. I don’t think it’s bad.”
“You should have told me.”
“So you could do what? Get shot because you were trying to baby me?” she snapped.
He pulled in a deep breath. She was right, getting away had been the most important thing. But he was not okay with the fact she’d been shot and had to run with a wounded leg.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m really not upset at you.”
“I know. Don’t apologize.” He wasn’t upset with her either. But he was furious with whoever did this and with himself for letting it happen.
They waited in silence for several minutes.
Gradually, normal nature sounds crept back in.
The metallic trill of a red-winged blackbird.
The maniacal laugh of the northern flicker.
The jumbled gobble of a wild turkey. Then the faint scream of a siren drifted through the trees.
A minute later, a text from Eric popped up on his screen.
Found your car. Where are you?
Northeast of there. Can hear the sirens, but barely. Hailey’s hurt.
Ambulance is on-site. Can you get back?
He glanced at Hailey. She’d been reading over his shoulder and nodded. He didn’t like how pale she was starting to look, but it would probably be faster to retrace their steps than for someone to find them and then get them back to the ambulance.
But the other problem was that he still had no idea if the gunman had come after them. If he had, there was a good chance he’d heard the sirens too. Which meant he could have gotten away. Or stationed himself where he could pick Peter and Hailey off when they tried to reach safety.
They couldn’t just stay out here though. Hailey needed medical attention. He texted Eric back.
We’ll head that way. No idea where the
shooter is.
We’re watching for him. Officers will try
to meet you partway.
He sent back a thumbs-up, then leaned close to Hailey. “Let me take a look around before you stand up.”
Again, she nodded.
Slowly, he got to his feet and surveyed the area.
He saw no sign of anyone nearby, heard nothing except leaves rustling in the wind and the faint wails of emergency vehicles.
Satisfied, he held back the branches and helped Hailey to her feet.
She wobbled, and her face lost another shade of color. That wasn’t good.
He knelt beside her. “Hold on to my shoulder. I’m going to check your wound.”
“Really, I’m okay.” But she did as he asked.
She was right. It did appear to be a graze—no hole, just a deep gash.
He didn’t like that she was still losing blood though.
They needed to get that handled. He pulled out his pocketknife and cut a strip off the hem of his shirt.
Hailey gasped when he tied it around her calf, but again, she didn’t complain.
He shoved the knife back into his pocket, then lifted Hailey into his arms and started toward the road.
“What are you doing?” she hissed—more from pain than from irritation, he suspected.
“You’re in no shape to walk anymore.”
“And you’re still recuperating from a concussion.”
“I’m not using my head to carry you.”
“I can see that,” she muttered.
If they weren’t in such a precarious situation, he’d have laughed. As it was, he just smirked.
Hailey released a soft chuckle, followed by a quiet groan.
He sobered immediately. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just starting to feel everything now that the adrenaline’s wearing off.”
He quickened his steps. “I’m sorry I let this happen to you.”
“Stop apologizing for what’s out of your control. You didn’t ‘let’ anything happen. If you hadn’t been with me, I’d probably be dead.”
Once again, she was probably right. But he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d missed something.
His gut had been right. Something had been very wrong.
Yet he’d still been caught off guard. What warning sign had his subconscious picked up on that he’d missed?
What was it he should have seen before the first shot rang out?
Or had it really just been anxiety that turned out to be right?
There was no way to know. But he couldn’t let anything like this happen again.
HAILEY HAD NO IDEA how far they’d run, especially since they hadn’t been going in a straight line.
They’d been walking back—or rather, Peter had—for about ten minutes when she saw movement ahead of them.
A second later, the silhouette of an armed figure came into view.
She sucked in a breath. Was that the shooter?
But before she could warn Peter, the man spotted them too.
“Peter, Hailey, that you?”
She almost wilted with relief when she recognized Officer Titus Gibson’s voice.
“It’s us,” Peter confirmed.
“Thank God.” He grabbed his radio and spoke into it as he continued their way, but he wasn’t close enough yet for Hailey to catch his words. When he reached them, he gave them a quick once-over, his eyes stopping on her makeshift bandage. “Detective Thornton said you were hurt. How bad is it?”
“Just a graze. I can walk.” She gave Peter a pointed look, which he ignored.
“I think she’ll be fine, but she’ll probably need stitches. And she shouldn’t be walking,” Peter clarified.
Titus glanced between them and apparently decided to side with Peter. “You’re still about a quarter mile from the ambulance. Do you need me to take her?”
“No, I’ve got her.” He started walking again, and the officer fell into step beside them.
Hailey sighed, but there was no use arguing. In reality, her leg was throbbing, and dizziness had hit her when she’d stood up from the thicket. And if she were being really honest, she’d admit that being in Peter’s arms wasn’t all that bad.
Her cheeks flushed at the thought. She absolutely wouldn’t be admitting that.
At Titus’s prodding, they gave him an overview of what had taken place.
The young officer’s eyes widened at their story.
By the time they finished, his shock seemed to have faded and been replaced by indignation.
But he didn’t comment except to mutter how glad he was they had survived and that the police force would do all they could to track down the shooter.
She hoped they did, and soon. But she also knew that it probably wouldn’t be that easy.
She knew enough about police work from Eric to know that if they could figure out where the shooter had been shooting from and if there were bullet casings left behind, then they might be able to pull prints from them or track down who owned the weapon.
But neither of those were guaranteed. Nor could they confidently assume the shooter had used his own gun.
And unless there had been a witness, that might be the extent of the clues left behind.
Still, she could hope one of those would pan out or that the shooter had been sloppy and left something else behind. Please, Lord.
A wave of nausea passed over her, and she rested her head on Peter’s shoulder.
Suddenly, she was very glad he was carrying her.
With every step and every beat of her heart, pain pulsed through her wound, but she knew her queasiness was more than that.
Besides the adrenaline crash, she was probably dehydrated, and she hadn’t eaten since the scone and coffee she’d let count as her lunch.
“You still doing okay?” Peter asked softly.
“I’ve felt better, but I’ll be fine,” she gritted out. Without lifting her head, she glanced ahead. They had to be getting close to their destination. The sirens had certainly gotten louder.
For the next several minutes, she focused on taking calming breaths. That helped a little. Soon, the flashing lights of emergency vehicles became visible through the trees.
As soon as they stepped into the open, first responders descended on them.
Peter brushed off their queries and carried her straight to the ambulance, where he relinquished her to the care of an EMT.
But even then, he stayed close. She’d asked them to keep the doors open as long as they could, and from her elevated position on the gurney, she could see him hovering just outside as the EMT, who’d introduced himself as Ron, checked her over.
Eric joined him, and the two spoke in low tones. She wanted to call for them to talk louder so she could hear, but she decided yelling so close to the EMT’s ear while he inserted an IV probably wasn’t a good idea.
“You look like you’ve had a rough day,” Ron said.
“You could say that.” She didn’t want to be completely rude, but she didn’t feel like making conversation.
She was tired and queasy and miffed that she was going to have to make a trip to the emergency room for stitches.
Normally, she would have insisted on just going to the local urgent care.
She knew she looked banged up, especially with her two-day-old black eye, but most of her injuries were small lacerations from briars and shattered window glass.
Her only significant wound was the graze on her calf, and that was still relatively minor.
But she’d checked the time. They’d spent quite a while out in the woods, and by the time they’d be able to reach urgent care, it would be closed.
Eric looked her way, and she offered a wave. He nodded, spoke a few more words to Peter, then leaned inside. “Okay if I talk to your patient?” he asked the EMT.
Ron glanced at her. She nodded, and he shrugged. “Sure thing.” He finished hooking her up to a bag of IV fluids, then stepped outside to give them space.
Hailey studied Eric. The last time she’d seen such a grim expression on his face was at Wesley’s funeral. The memory brought a different kind of pain than what she’d been dealing with for the last hour or so. She looked away.
“How are you?”
“Ready to run a marathon.” She couldn’t help the sarcastic response.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Do I need to call Ron back in here to check you for a head injury?”
She scowled. “Don’t you dare.”
He hopped inside and took a seat. “I’m glad you’re okay, Hailey.”
“Yeah, me too. They weren’t playing this time.
” On the walk back, she’d had time to replay those first few moments in her mind.
They’d been moving, albeit slowly since Peter had stopped to look for traffic a moment before.
The initial shot had hit her bottled water after she’d lifted it to take a drink.
The bullet had passed inches, at most, from her face.
Unless the shooter was an extremely skilled sniper, she doubted he’d missed on purpose.
“I agree. This wasn’t a scare tactic. They were shooting to kill, and they were aiming at you.”