Navarro grunted. “That’s worth the paperwork I’ll have to fill out for having our civilian consultant kill a suspect.”
“I’ll give my statement later,” Kit said, handing her weapon to Navarro.
Standard operating procedure, Sam thought. She’d fired it and there would be paperwork.
He’d fired, too. Bile rose to burn his throat. He hadn’t just fired.
He’d killed a man.
“Connor’s hurt bad,” Kit said. “I need to get him to the hospital.” She ran to the back of her car and cursed. “He’s unconscious. Goddammit.”
“Connor fired the first shot,” Sam said. “The one that hit Shoemaker in the hip.”
“Then he saved my life.” Kit swallowed hard and glanced at Navarro, who’d joined her at her car. “He’s bleeding out. We have to get him help.”
“Get him to Julian,” Navarro said. “Use Sam’s sat phone to call the police. They’re standing by to provide assistance. Ask them to get a medevac to meet you there. They don’t have a hospital, but hopefully they can get a doctor to meet you there as well to do…whatever they can do. I’ll stay here with the scene. Have them send me backup ASAP.”
“But we can’t get out,” Sam said. “Shoemaker left the Suburban parked across the driveway. Your car is just behind it, Navarro.”
“Then I’ll drive as far as I can,” Kit said, “and then you and I, Sam, can transfer Connor to Navarro’s car. I don’t think this car would get us far anyway.”
The tires were flat. Sam could see that now.
If we’d been a few seconds later…
“Come on, Sam,” Kit said gently. “I think you’re in shock. Come with me.”
Kit put him in the front passenger seat of her car as the numbness washed over him.
I killed a man.
Not just him.But I helped.He stared at his hand that had held the gun. It was empty now. But he’d fired.I shot him in the head and he’s dead.
Kit put the car in gear, rolling down the window to call to Navarro, who’d stepped away from the car. “Boss, there was a girl in that cabin. She might still be in there. I think Shoemaker abducted her, too.”
“Daniella,” Sam mumbled. “Her name is Daniella.”
“I’m gonna want to know how you know that,” Kit said. “And how you all came to save the day. But later.” She began slowly driving down Shoemaker’s long driveway, the car barely limping along.
I killed a man.
But then Sam looked at Kit, who held on to the steering wheel like it was a life preserver. She was pale and trembling, but still fierce.
And still breathing. She was alive.
I killed a man.
And I’d do it again.
Chapter Twenty
San Diego, California
Saturday, January 14, 5:00 p.m.
Sam was not okay.
Kit studied him in the hospital’s elevator, just as she had all through today and the day before as they’d done endless debriefings and finally a press conference. They’d sat for hours with Navarro, the San Diego sheriff, and the SDPD brass, who’d talked and talked and talked.