Page 49 of In the Arms of a Hero

He continued to hold her as they maneuvered her onto the stretcher and didn’t let go as he jogged at her side toward the ambulance that had pulled as close to the dance floor as it could.

“Aaron.”

He turned at the soft voice and spied Ivy standing next to him, her face tight with worry.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital. Andy’s gone out on the water with the others,” she said.

Her words didn’t make sense, and she must’ve realized that because she shook her head slightly and added, “They think the shot was fired from someone out on the water. Andy, Ryan, and all the others from the VMP are getting out there. Andy’ll make it to the hospital as soon as he can.”

With a weighty nod, he knew his older brother would’ve rushed into action. “Call Dad for me,” he called, casting the words over his shoulder like a lifeline as the paramedics lifted Belinda’s stretcher into the back of the ambulance. Trusting she would, he shifted his attention forward and climbed in after her.

As the ambulance doors swung closed, he glanced from her unmoving form to look out the back window. The scene of disaster bore little resemblance to the celebration they had enjoyed such a short time earlier. The reception now resembled a war zone. The guests had all been swiftly herded into therestaurant nearby, and Colt’s stalwart leadership had taken command, directing the others working the crime scene.

Crime scene.His chest depressed as the air fled his lungs. The dance floor where he and Belinda had shared a dance of hopeful beginnings was being cordoned off. Where he’d held Belinda in his arms was now a scene of violence. And she was the victim.

Colt’s jaw felt like a vise squeezed it as the muscles tensed to the brink of pain. He wondered if the bones would crack under the pressure of his fury. The notion that someone dared to fire a weapon into a gathering of wedding guests, particularly one swarming with law enforcement personnel, left him seething. Yet two hours after the chaos erupted, they didn’t have a fucking clue of the assailant’s identity.

Heavy-duty lights were brought in to illuminate the scene, including the narrow shore. Deputies combed the beach after ascertaining there were no footprints. The tide had been in during the wedding, and now that it had receded, they scoured the sand meticulously.No one was on the beach, hiding in the dark to fire into the crowd.

Detectives from North Heron County and Accawmacke County Sheriff’s offices had convened inside the restaurant, diligently taking statements from the shaken guests, letting them go after each had been interviewed. His fellow sheriff and good friend, Liam Sullivan, had been directing his staff but had now moved to stand next to Colt.

“So far, no one saw anything,” Liam reported, frustration evident in his voice. “Some near the DJ’s speakers didn’t realize a weapon had been discharged and just saw people runningaway. Others didn’t know what had happened until Belinda was on the ground and they saw blood. Obviously, our men and women recognized the sound of gunfire, but the way the sound ricocheted across the water, paired with the fear that someone was going to release a volley of bullets, they grabbed others to shove them to the ground.”

Colt scrubbed his hand over his face. He’d lost his jacket and tie long ago but, heated with frustration despite the cool night air, had his dress shirt sleeves rolled up. His wife, Carrie, and their teenage son, Jack, had retreated to their home to tend to their youngest child after giving their statements. He dropped his chin to stare at his shoes—the memory of dancing with his wife, having a moment of peace before the chaos erupted, caused a sharp ache in his chest. He’d gone down, his large body covering hers as he looked around, not breathing until his gaze landed on Jack. His son had grabbed a woman nearby and covered her, too. It hit him that the son of his heart was also a protector. That thought alone gave him peace in the midst of the disaster.

Turning his mind back to the scene before him, he watched as Hunter approached. Colt had coordinated with Ryan Coates, who’d taken control of the water patrol after it became apparent the shot had been fired from the water. Unfortunately, no one had heard anything with the screaming that began within a few seconds of the gunfire.

Hunter had been dancing with his wife near Aaron. While he’d crashed to the floor with Belle underneath his body, he’d looked out toward the water and heard the sound of a boat motor, but the boat was traveling without lights.

Hunter stopped next to Colt, and the two men stood for a moment, looking around at the still-active crime scene. “What does your gut tell you?” Colt asked. He trusted Hunter’s insight as well as his intuition. Hunter’s career included active duty inthe military, and then he served with the state police, working undercover in a major drug sting operation. He was now giving his talents to Colt’s department.

Hunter sighed. “It feels calculated. If someone wanted to kill a lot of people, they would have brought an automatic weapon and unleashed it on the whole area. If someone wanted to wreak fear and havoc, the one random shot would create that, but to what end? I have no fuckin’ clue other than someone wanting attention or having a specific aim.”

“What about Aaron? Do any of his cases look suspect? Is there any reason someone would just be after him?”

“If so, then someone ordered a sniper because there’s no fuckin’ way a pissed-off amateur shooter would manage that shot from a boat.”

“So it could be a random asshole who just got his jollies shooting into a wedding full of law enforcement or someone with money and hired a sniper.”

“Sorry, boss. That’s the way I see it.”

Colt tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck in an ineffective effort to ease the tension radiating along his jaw. “Okay, then. As soon as the interviews are over and the guests have all gone, I’ll station a few deputies to guard the area until we get daylight. Then I want everyone in the station for roll call.”

“You heading home?”

Colt shook his head. He knew where his place was, and unfortunately, right now, it wasn’t at home, in bed, curled around Carrie after checking on their kids tucked in their beds. “No. Heading to the hospital. I sent Sam there already, and I want to make sure Aaron knows we have his back.”

With gazes held and chin lifts that said a helluva lot more than just goodbye, they separated, and Colt grabbed his suit coat and tie and then jogged to the parking lot. It had been a long fucking day, and it wasn’t close to being over.

25

Aaron loathed hospital waiting rooms. He was always struck by the hard plastic chairs, the dull beige colors of the walls, and the harsh fluorescent lighting. Hospital sounds were in the background, along with the muted conversations of the gathering all around. They were a stark reminder of life’s fragility.

When his dad had arrived in the waiting room, he’d been enveloped in a bear hug, finally able to hand over a smidgen of the burden weighing him down.

“Boy, it’s going to be fine,” his dad had whispered in his ear, and all Aaron could do was silently nod.

He looked over, not surprised to see that Sally had walked in with his dad. He offered her a watery smile, and she moved over to wrap her arms around them.

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