Page 89 of Fatal Witness

She smiled at him. “Now, what are the other reasons you like living out here?”

He was quiet a moment. “Even though Pearl Springs is small, there’s still a lot of noise—cars passing by, sirens, neighbors yelling. When I first came back from Afghanistan, I couldn’t stand to be around any noise.”

“How many times did you go to Afghanistan?”

Mark shifted and turned toward the valley below. “Three tours.”

“Is being a sniper the reason you’re always super vigilant?”

“Hadn’t thought about it, but I guess it is.”

It also explained why he was so calm when most people would be running scared. “Was that a sniper shooting at us?”

He gave a short, ironic laugh. “Not a trained one. A trained sniper would have killed us.”

She shivered at the deadly calm way he spoke. “So you think he missed because he isn’t a good shot?”

“Not saying that at all. He probably didn’t take the wind into consideration, and even if he did, it’s hard to judge just how much to adjust your aim sometimes. And it takes a second to find your target with a high-powered scope.” He stood and held out his hand. “You ready to hike again?”

Dani took it, and he pulled her up, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary.

An hour later they walked out of the woods into a clearing with a neat frame house in the middle. Just off the back porch was a stack of firewood, and not far from the firewood sat a four-wheeler. “Your place?”

He hurried her across the yard. “Yep. Give me a minute. We need to get a couple rifles. You know how to shoot?”

She nodded. “But—”

“Good, and don’t worry. We should be out of here before the shooter arrives.”

“You don’t know that. What if he’s already here?”

Mark turned toward the road, and she followed his gaze as he scanned the woods. Dani had hunted in Montana when she was a teenager, and she hadn’t forgotten how to look for telltale signs that other hunters were in the area. But this hunter was tracking them, not deer. The only movement was Gem trotting back and forth from the front porch to the back.

“Come on,” he said. “You grab the bottles of water in the refrigerator.”

Suddenly Gem’s hackles raised, and she started a barkingfrenzy. “What is it, girl?” Mark bent to pet the dog just as a bullet plowed into the post on his back porch. “Get behind the well!”

He pointed to a brick well that was a short distance from the side of his house, and she ran for it while he disappeared inside. When he returned, he held a rifle and ammunition in his hands and another rifle slung over his back. “Catch,” he yelled and tossed a box of shells to her. “I’m going to throw the rifle easy-like behind you. Don’t try to catch it.”

The rifle landed in the grass behind her, and she quickly grabbed and loaded it. “Got it ready.”

“Cover me!” Mark ran a zigzag pattern to the well.

Dani squeezed the trigger on the rifle, then tugged the bolt handle up and back, ejecting the spent casing. She fired again. Too slow!

The shooter obviously had an automatic, as he fired in rapid succession.

She screamed as Mark went down.

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Mark felt no more than a sting when the bullet hit him and didn’t understand how it brought him down. Another bullet kicked up dirt two feet away.

He had to get behind the well. “Did you see where the shots are coming from?” he yelled.

“Generally.” Relief sounded in her voice.

“Then keep him down long enough for me to get to the well.”

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