Page 86 of Deadly Evidence
Gil lay on the floor, his face pale and sweaty, his arms doubled over his stomach. Blood stained the front of his white polo shirt and blossomed across the tile beneath him.So much blood.
Fighting her sudden nausea, she grabbed a stack of clean kitchen towels from a drawer and knelt beside him, slid a few under his head and tried to staunch the flow of blood with the rest. “What happened? Who did this?”
Gil coughed weakly, then moaned.
“It’s me,Anna. Tell me what happened!”
“Gunshot.” Brady knelt beside her and lifted Gil’s wrist to check his pulse. “Help is on the way. Just hang in there a while longer and you’ll be good as new.” He gave Gil a reassuring smile. “This is just a scratch.”
Gil raised his head a few inches and reached for Anna’s hand, his shaking fingers cold and sticky with blood. “I...I’m sorry...” His voice was barely audible. “Before...I have to tell you...about Ray...
“About Dad?”
But he fell back, his head lolling to one side and his breathing rapid and shallow, his skin ashen.
“You can tell me later,” she assured him, struggling to keep her voice steady. “After we get you patched up.”
She looked up and met Brady’s gaze and felt her heart tumble out of place when he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
The minutes ticked by. One...and then another. The bleeding slowed beneath her steady pressure with the towels, but Gil had already lost a great deal.
And given the vast area covered by the county’s small EMT crew, his chances for quick medical attention were slim to none.
“Where is that ambulance?” she whispered urgently. “Should we try to transport him ourselves?”
Brady lifted his cell phone from his pocket, dialed 911 again, then dropped his phone into his shirt pocket. “We’re in luck, because they’ve been at a call in this part of the county.”
He leaned down closer to Gil. “They’ll be here within twenty minutes, max. You’re going to be fine.”
Gil rolled his head toward Anna. “My fault...Ray died. Never meant...”
She stared at him, stunned. “You?”
“The...others...” His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to speak. “Be careful...” Then he gave a low groan and his contorted expression went slack.
“Brady—is he gone?” Anna grabbed Gil’s hand and chafed it, trying to elicit a response.
Brady rested two fingertips at the corner of Gil’s jaw. “He still has a pulse—but it’s weak and thready. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
Endless minutes ticked by until she heard the distant sounds of approaching sirens, and in minutes the room was filled with EMTs and deputies.
Anna stood in a corner, feeling dazed and cold, her hand at her mouth as she watched the EMTs work feverishly on Gil, stabilizing him and preparing him for transport.
Over in the breakfast alcove just off the kitchen, Brady gave the deputies his identification and talked to them while they stood taking notes.
Until today her life had been challenging and physically demanding.
There’d always been risks during her private war with the drug traffickers who tried crossing her land. Still, she’d met each day with determination, and she’d managed to carry on.
But this—the enormity of her daughter’s disappearance and Gil’s wounds—felt like an iron fist crushing her heart.
If she hadn’t called in the DEA, would things have been different? Would Lacey be safe at home, grumbling about homework and bedtime?
In minutes, the EMTs were rolling the gurney out the door, and seconds later, the ambulance roared away with its siren wailing.
She stared out of the window, feeling as if a leaden weight had settled on her chest.
Whether Gil lived or died, one inescapable fact remained—someone had shot him and left him for dead. And if this shooting and Lacey’s disappearance were related, she might never again see her beloved daughter again.
