Sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped down her back as the phone barely rang once before he picked it up.
“Leslie? A call just came in?—”
“That’s us. He called in the fire before it was even set.”
A gunshot shattered another window sending glass everywhere. Mrs. Tippin yelped.
“He’s got us cornered in the barn.”
“We’re on our way. Stay where you’re at.”
She nodded, even though there was no way he could see it. She tried to form words for a response, but her brain wouldn’t cooperate. Why was she so hot?
Bryce must have noticed her discomfort because his eyes narrowed as he positioned himself in front of her. “Leslie? Hey, let’s get that jacket off you.” He started to help her with it when his eyes widened. “You’ve been hit.”
Hit? She stared at him and tried to figure out what he meant.
“Leslie?” Clint’s voice came from the phone.
Bryce took it from her. “This is Keyes. We’re going to need an ambulance. Leslie’s been hit.” Another gunshot pierced the air. “I’m gonna have to set the phone down and see how bad this is. Be careful when you arrive, the shooter’s still out there. I think the shots were coming from the west or northwest, but I’m not sure.”
Leslie worked to even her breathing as Bryce and Jin helped her get her jacket off as well as the pants and boots, leaving her in cotton leggings, a T-shirt, and socks.
The cool air breezed over her damp skin, bringing relief and a little clarity to her mind. She winced when Bryce applied a handkerchief to her left upper arm. “How bad is it?”
“Looks like the bullet just grazed you, but it’s bleeding pretty good.” Bryce studied her face. “You with us?”
“Yeah, I’m better now.” It bothered her that the combination of being overheated, the stress, and the wound had muddled her brain so much for a few moments there.
Bryce snatched the phone off the ground and gave an update to Clint.
The silence from outside the barn was nearly as deafening as the gunshots. Had he run off? Or was he approaching the barn?
Chet and the Tippins were already out of sight of the windows. Jin, Bryce, and Leslie scooted closer to the wall and ducked into the small space under another workbench.
Jin looked around and reached for a large axe that was leaning against the wall. He shoved it across the barn floor to Chet.
“There’s a shotgun in the cabinet over there,” Mr. Tippin pointed out.
Bryce motioned for Jin to take over putting pressure on Leslie’s wound, and crawled over to the cabinet. As soon as he had the shotgun in his hands, he made sure it was loaded and came back, positioning himself low to the ground between them and the door.
Leslie noted a shovel nearby. If push came to shove, she’d wield that to keep their attacker at bay. They may not be trained for this, but none of them were going to face the shooter without a fight.
The air was unnaturally quiet as Clint gripped his handgun and followed Paris. No doubt, the shooting earlier had scared off much of the wildlife. They’d parked in front of the house and were making their way around toward the barn. Two other officers were circling around to the left while another pair were doing the same to the right—all searching for someone hiding in the trees around the edge of the property.
Clint kept his eyes on the tree line as they made their way past the house and to the ladder truck, which they would use as a shield if the situation changed.
It was frustrating to know that Leslie was in the barn just a few hundred feet away, and he couldn’t get to her yet. All he wanted was to clear the area and get in there. See for himself that Leslie was okay.
Paris spoke into his two-way radio. “How are we looking? Is there any movement in the trees?”
“Negative. Nothing on the east side. Continuing to work our way around.”
“Carrington here on the west. We’ve got flattened grass and weeds with numerous shell casings. There’s a direct view of the barn from here. No visual on the shooter.”
“Understood. We’re moving in now.”
Together, Clint and Paris rounded the fire truck and quickly made their way across the open space to the barn. The hose the firefighters had been using to put out the fire still lay stretched across the dry grass. The scent of burned hay and smoke lingered in the air.
