In A Killer's Sights

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I wasn’t criticizing you, Gwen. It scares me to think what almost happened to you. I’m sorry.”

She blinked to keep tears from rolling down her cheeks and pressed her palm against her forehead. “I’m sorry, too, Dean. I shouldn’t have reacted as I did.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then he sighed. “So, what are you doing in the Smokies?”

“I work for a television network in New York. We’re going to do a documentary that features the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I had hiked up to the stream to take some pictures for research.”

He smiled. “New York, huh? You finally made the big time like you wanted.”

“It’s a good job,” she said. “But what about you? I didn’t think you’d ever come back to the Smokies.”

He sighed and a sad smile curled his lips. “After the divorce, I decided I had to change something about my life. It was either get sober or die, and I chose to get sober. I turned my life over to God and got in a program for alcoholics. I haven’t had a drink in four years.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. “That’s wonderful, Dean! I’m so happy for you.”

“I’m happy, too,” he said. “I decided to come back where I grew up. My grandfather needed some help with his farm, and I found I missed the mountains. And it felt great to be sober. So I moved in with Granddad, and we decided to turn the farm into a dude ranch. It’s doing very well.”

She smiled. “It sounds like life has been good for you.”

A sad expression darkened his eyes again. “My one regret was that you didn’t know about it. But now you do.”

“Now I do,” she whispered.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a loud pop exploded outside the ambulance. The driver gave a startled cry as the vehicle swerved to the right, hit the loose gravel on the shoulder and veered back across the road.

“Wilson!” Joe yelled. “What’s the matter?”

“I think we’ve been shot at!” he shouted, just as a second pop sounded.

Dean jumped to his feet and stared through the window that divided the back of the ambulance from the cab. “Are you hit?” he yelled.

“No, but I think a tire was. I’m losing control!”

The ambulance careened across the pavement, reached the other shoulder and plunged down the mountainside. Joe fell to the floor as compartments flew open and medical supplies tumbled out. Gwen screamed, and Dean grabbed her as she rolled from the gurney. They both dropped to the floor as the vehicle, picking up speed, bounced past trees and low-hanging limbs on its journey down the slope.

Gwen felt Dean’s arms tighten around her as they crouched there, his body shielding hers. Then, without warning, the ambulance came to a jarring halt as it collided with something solid, most likely a tree or a rock.

The impact shook the vehicle with such force that she, Dean and Joe flew as if they’d been shot from a cannon into the walls and then back to the floor. She could hear the paramedic moaning near the panel at the front, but Dean lay next to her unmoving.

Frantic, she grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Dean! Are you okay?” When he didn’t answer, she shook him again. “Dean! Dean! Wake up.”

A low moan came from Joe’s direction. She tried to raise her head to see if he was conscious, but Dean’s body blocked her view. “Joe! Are you okay?”

No answer. She tried calling out to the driver, too, but there was no response.

She pushed Dean’s body off her and knelt next to him. A cell phone lay beside him, probably knocked from his pocket when he was thrown against the wall. She scooped it up and punched in the necessary numbers.

An operator answered right away. “This is 911. What is your emergency?”

“I need help!” Gwen screamed. “The ambulance that answered the call to White Oak Creek has crashed down the mountain. There are three others with me, but I’m the only one conscious right now.”

“I have the ambulance on our GPS, and I’ve notified responders. They should be there soon. Who’s there with you?”

“The driver. I think I heard that his name is Wilson? There’s also an EMT named Joe, and Dean Harwell. Please tell the responders to hurry. I’m afraid the men are hurt badly.”

“They’re on the way. Stay on the line with me.”

“I will, but please tell them...” The words froze in her throat at the smell that filled the ambulance. “Gasoline!” she screamed. “I smell gasoline.”

“You need to get out of the ambulance now, ma’am.” The woman’s voice crackled over the cell phone.

“I can’t leave them all here!” Gwen cried.

Before she could move, the back door of the vehicle opened. She recoiled at the sight of a man dressed in camouflage with a black ski mask over his face. He held a gun that he instantly aimed at her.

“Well, we meet again,” he sneered, his words muffled by the mask.

“What do you want?” Gwen cried.

“What I don’t want is for you to live to tell what you saw up on that mountain,” he snarled.

Gwen held her hands in front of her and tried to scoot backward, but Joe’s body blocked her. Beside her, Dean began to stir. “I don’t know anything. I can’t even see your face. Please put that gun down,” she begged.

He laughed and took a step closer. “I can’t take a chance. Sorry, lady.” He slowly reached in his pocket, pulled out a cigarette lighter and flicked it on. Then he backed away a few feet and tossed it toward the vehicle.

THREE (#ulink_dcf23d45-6f43-5914-afda-daaca58f7253)

A man’s voice penetrated Dean’s mind, and he opened his eyes. He pushed himself to his knees and turned his head toward the sound just in time to see a figure clothed in camouflage drop a cigarette lighter to the ground. Immediately, a flame shot up.

Dean jumped to his feet and faced the man behind the flames. “What are you doing?” he yelled.

The man took a step backward, raised his gun and pointed it at Dean. “Harwell? Why are you here?”

Beside him Gwen gasped and coughed from the smoke. The man jerked his attention to her, and that gave Dean the opportunity he needed to find a weapon. A cardiac monitor, jarred from its place on the ambulance wall, lay next to him, and he grabbed it by the handle. With all his strength he heaved the piece of equipment at the man, who sidestepped with a startled cry. Then he turned and ran up the mountainside.

Dean grabbed Gwen’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “We’ve got to get out of here. Right now!”

She looked back at Joe, who was beginning to stir. “I can make it,” she said. “Get Joe and the driver out!”

Ignoring her demand, Dean pulled her toward the back door and held her elbow as she scrambled to the ground. She’d taken only a few steps before she stumbled and fell to her knees. Dean wheeled around, grabbed Joe in turn and helped him rise. Together they jumped from the back of the vehicle.

As soon as they were outside, he told Joe, “Get Gwen away from here before the fire reaches the gas tank.”

The EMT nodded, pulled her to her feet and half dragged her up the steep slope away from the wreck. Dean could hear her screaming his name as he ran around to the driver’s side door. Inside, Wilson was slumped over the wheel. Dean pulled on the handle, but the door refused to open. He tried again, with no success. A glance toward the back of the ambulance told him the fire was spreading underneath. He had to get Wilson out, or they were both going to die in an explosion.

Praying that he could be fast enough, Dean ran to the rear doors and jumped back inside. It took him only a few seconds to find the fire extinguisher, still mounted in its case on the ambulance wall.

Praying that it hadn’t been damaged during the wreck, he pulled it free and leaped out. His heart pounded and his hands shook as he remembered the word a trainer at the police academy had taught him: PASS, an acronym for pull, aim, squeeze, sweep. The temptation was to aim for the fire, but that only made the extinguishing agent fly through the flames without doing any good.