Page 42 of Cold Light of Day

A minute, then two.

He appeared again, kneeled by her side, and opened the kit.

“You’re going to make it.” He directed the words to Dad. His voice sounded confident and reassuring, and even though he spoke to her father, she grabbed on to the words and held tight.

“Get the Celox for me.” She wanted to keep the pressure on his wound.

He’d already found it and handed it off. Together they worked to doctor her father. In the dark, she couldn’t see how much blood he’d lost.God, please let him live.

“If I can’t do anything more, then I need to go.” He scrambled to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to find the shooter. He’s still out there.”

“Grier, I can’t allow you to do that. Stand down.”

“I don’t work for you.” And then he was gone.

And really, Grier appeared skilled and trained—and she apparently couldn’t stop him. Tonight she would find out once and for all who Grier Brenner was. With her luck, he was an FBI special agent gone rogue, and she would be seen as working with him.

Focus. Focus on Dad.

“I’m the police chief. Why does he have to be so—”

“That boy’s got pluck.”

She could barely make out Dad’s words, but the fact that he’d spoken encouraged her.

Pluck.

Mettle. Courage. Whatever Grier had didn’t lessen her frustration with him, but she couldn’t chase after a crazy man—the shooter or Grier—with her father’s life hanging in the balance.

EIGHTEEN

Grier was tired of men with evil plots getting away, and he was done standing on the sidelines and watching. He raced after the assailant.

Sirens wailed in the distance, reassuring Grier that police support was on the way, though limited, and emergency services would get to her father. He prayed they got to him in time.

A dense fog rose, permeating the woods and making it difficult to follow his target. Grier walked as silently as possible. He had no way of knowing where the gunman had gone but suspected he hadn’t headed for the road, where law enforcement and emergency vehicles traveled, or toward the water, where there was no escape. Unless, of course, he had a boat. Too bad the Alaska State Troopers’ response team hadn’t hung around longer after the manhunt so they could close in on yet another shooter. Grier would bet this was a record for Shadow Gap.

He watched, waited, and listened. Despite the cooler evening temperatures, sweat beaded on his back and brow.

A twig snapped—near or far, he couldn’t tell with the eerie way sound echoed in the foggy woods. He pressed his backagainst a tree, slowed his breaths, and remained quiet. Angling his head, he caught a glimpse of a figure dashing away.

Grier pushed from the tree and followed, maintaining full awareness of his surroundings in case the guy hadn’t been working alone—like they’d learned too late at the cabin a couple of days ago. As he headed for the edge of the forest, following the direction the man had run, he left the thickening fog behind. He stopped when the trees opened up. A sliver of moonlight that broke through the clouds shone on a half-acre meadow edged by more forest on the other side. A rocky outcropping at the base of a ridged mountain sprang up behind a swath of evergreens.

The gunman crossed the meadow and hopped over what must have been a creek or a gulley. After sliding down an incline on his backside, he bolted upright and raced out of the woods.

Memories that felt like they were from another life chased him. And here he was, running after danger again. For all the right reasons—again. He dashed across the meadow, then hopped over the creek before stopping behind a boulder to catch his breath.

He listened.

Pebbles slid. Rocks tumbled, echoing. Was the guy trying to climb? He peered around the boulder and, at this angle, could just make out a cave entrance. He caught the slightest movement inside the cave before all was still again. The shooter?

Grier scraped a hand over his mouth. The guy really had no better escape plan than to hide in a cave where he could get trapped? All authorities had to do was wait for him to come out. Grier blew out a breath. But the chief had only two officers, and the shooter might be skilled enough that those odds were still in his favor—he could overcome two officers with no problem.

Or...he knew another way out of the cave.

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