Shaw opened the door. “Deputy!”
“Colter! You’re here.”
“Keep down. Two hostiles, the high ground behind you. The pair from the hotel.”
She stepped back to the car, crouching, using it as cover. She scanned the forest, her hand on her gun. “You’re with Ms. Parker and her daughter?”
“They’re here. Allison’s hurt. Bullet wound. Missed the vitals but we need to get her to surgery.”
“There’s a hospital twenty minutes away. I’ll help you.” Staying low, Donohue started toward the cabin.
She got only halfway.
Jon Merritt burst from the brush beside the driveway, a backpack over his shoulder, a pistol in his hand. He leveled the revolver at the woman and before Shaw could bark a word of warning, he fired two rounds, striking her in the head.
The deputy fell like a discarded doll to the grass, which was by then already dotted with her blood.
79
Hannah screamed.
Allison Parker called from the parlor, “Han! What?”
Mouth open, eyes wide, the girl stared out the window.
Shaw watched Jon pocket the dead deputy’s pistol, her two extra mags and phone. He pulled the girl away from the windows and closed the drapes again, then he slammed the door and wedged the chair back under the knob.
Hannah was sobbing. “No...”
When Shaw looked again, Merritt was gone.
Shaw turned toward Parker. “It was Jon. He killed her. The deputy.”
“Jesus, no...”
It was then that Shaw noticed that the woman’s car was still idling.
Kristi Donahue hadn’t shut the engine off when she’d arrived. Merritt hadn’t noted this. He’d neutralized a threat and, in a hurry to rendezvous with his hitmen, he’d forgotten about the vehicle.
Scanning the forest. No threat from him or the Twins. Not yet.
How long would it take Shaw, Parker and Hannah to get to the sedan? Twenty seconds.
While the short move would be painful for the woman, there was no other choice. He’d carry her to the car and, basically, shove her into the back. They’d speed away before the three hostiles, hearing her scream, could arrive and start firing.
He called to Hannah, “We’re going to the car.” She was staring toward the window, not seeing a thing. He said firmly, “You with me? Hannah. I need you with me.”
And like flipping a switch her eyes came to life. She inhaled, wiped tears away with her fingers and nodded.
“Get your mother up.”
She vanished into the parlor. Shaw looked again outside. Still clear.
He joined the girl and they helped Parker into the living room. “Oh, no,” she whispered, looking through a gap in the curtain. The pool of blood was slowly growing.
Shaw got his arm around her shoulders and helped her to the front door.
Hannah glanced at her feet and saw the bolo. She picked it up. Hefted its weight.