Chapter Forty-One Margo Angelhart
Chapter Forty-One
Margo Angelhart
The only light in the room was the cold glow from the laptop screen. I slammed it shut, the snap echoing like a gunshot in
the thick silence. Without hesitation, I shoved Tim down onto the couch.
“Cal, do you see anything?” I whispered.
“No,” Cal whispered back. “I checked the doors and windows earlier, everything’s locked tight. But there are too many windows
and doors to watch.”
The killer knew we were here with Tim. He had to have seen the Escalade parked in the driveway. He was waiting. Watching.
Ready to kill Tim, Cal, and me the minute we stepped outside.
Tim shifted under my hand. I pushed him down again, harder this time. “Stay down,” I growled. Then to Cal: “We’re sitting
ducks.”
I heard Cal’s voice. He was talking on his cell phone.
“This is DEA Agent Cal Rafferty, Phoenix office. I’m at 628 Pine Needle Lane in Flagstaff, taking in a witness. There’s someone
outside—likely hired to kill my witness. Need backup ASAP.”
Good call. But would they arrive before it was too late?
“Gonna puke,” Tim muttered.
I wrinkled my nose. “On the floor.” I rolled him off the couch. I couldn’t see anything with the blinds closed and every light
off. I heard Tim moan, but didn’t hear him puke. One small blessing. Still, I made sure he stayed on the floor. Safer that
way.
Cal was arguing quietly on the phone. Then, frustration laced his voice as he swore under his breath. “It’s gonna be at least
fifteen minutes,” he told me when he pocketed his phone. “They want to check my credentials.”
“Can we make it to the Escalade?” I asked, eyes flicking in the direction of the side door.
“If I were the guy, I’d be sitting twenty feet outside the perimeter, ready to blast anyone who tries to run. If we go out
the front, he’ll see. If we go out the kitchen door, same thing.”
Good point.
“Window in the back?” I asked. “We can cut through the woods, find a neighbor?”
“Risky,” Cal said. “There’s not a lot of coverage near the house because of fire abatement, so I don’t see how we avoid being
seen, even at night. And if he has night vision goggles, we’re really screwed.”
“Do you have a plan?” I asked. “One that doesn’t involve us getting shot?”
“Or me!” Tim squeaked from the floor. “I don’t want to die!”
“Shut up,” I said.
Cal moved to the back of the house. I heard the faint scrape of blinds tilting. Moonlight spilled in, slicing the black like
a knife, then vanished as he shut the blinds. He circled back.
“No sign of him,” Cal said quietly. “But there are fresh footprints, not ours. Looks like he parked near the house south of
us and cut through the trees.”
“So we can slip out the kitchen door!” Tim said, excited. “That’s to the north.” He tried to get up and I slammed him back down, harder this time. “Ouch!”
Cal said, “The safest spot is the bedroom. Small windows, fewer angles. We put Tim in the closet and guard the door until
the police arrive. Stay low.”
“Hear that?” I said to Tim. “Crawl to the bedroom. Now.”
Tim obeyed, and I silently thanked God he listened, because he was driving me nuts.
I stood, but crouched down to avoid making myself a bigger target. The deep blackness of the room, and the silence from the
lack of appliances running in the background, was both disorienting and creepy. Why had I mentioned horror movies to Cal earlier?
Now every slasher film I’d ever seen flashed through my mind.
“I’m here, to your right,” Cal whispered. “Follow Tim. I’m right behind you.”
Suddenly, the front door exploded open.
A blinding beam of light stabbed through the dark.
“Down!” Cal shouted.
Chaos erupted. Tim screamed—a sharp, raw sound—and gunfire cracked through the air. Boom! Boom! The brutal blasts of a shotgun.
Cal was firing back, crouched behind the couch, as I hit the floor, holding tight to my gun. But the shooter was a blur in
the harsh light. I didn’t want to draw the shooter’s attention in our direction when Cal had him pinned at the door.
Tim’s scream cut through the noise again, this time in pain. Dammit, he’d been hit. We needed him alive. The evidence we had
was good, but his testimony was essential.
Cal fired two more rounds. I heard the telltale click of an empty magazine. The metallic rattle as he dropped it and loaded another.
The grunting breath of the attacker echoed from the doorway. The flashlight tumbled into the room, its beam cutting the room
in half.
Then, silence. The shooter was gone.
“Check Tim!” Cal barked as he ran toward the door.
“Be careful!” My heart hammered in my chest.
I grabbed the fallen flashlight and hurried to Tim, who lay half in the living room, half toward the bedroom hall.
“Where?” I demanded, shining the beam over his body. “Where were you shot?”
“My ass!” Tim’s voice cracked between pain and hysteria. “He shot my ass!”
At least he was talking. That was something. He would survive.
And Cal shouldn’t be out there alone.
“Stay put,” I said, opening the door in front of him to provide a bit of cover.
I ran back to the front of the cabin, peered cautiously out, angling the flashlight low and sideways so I wouldn’t be a target.
Blood stained the snow outside, stark and bright.
“Cal?” That had better not be his blood.
“Over here,” Cal called back, farther from the house than I expected.
He stepped into the faint glow. “Think I hit him more than once, but he got away. Dark, late-model BMW. I couldn’t catch the
plates.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” Cal glanced inside, frowning at the sound of Tim moaning.
“He’s hit, but it’s not fatal,” I said.
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as they neared.
Cal touched my cheek, half smiling. “Well, girlfriend, you sure know how to show a guy a good time.”