Page 87 of Fatal Intent
He frowned as they continued to run toward the most likely place for a sniper’s nest. This wouldn’t be an easy shot for a run-of-the-mill sharpshooter. The distance was at least half a mile with variable wind speeds. Good-old-boys with pea shooters wouldn’t hit the target.
So what did that mean for the shooter? Training. You didn’t make those shots through luck. Training was involved.
That led to the next question. Who trained the shooter? His first guess would be military or law enforcement. They were the most logical places to receive professional training of this type.
With her gaze on the ground in front of her, Teagan held up her fist.
Grant stopped and waited for her to give the all-clear sign. In the meantime, he quartered the area, looking for signs of a threat to their safety. Tree limbs danced and swayed in the breeze. Leaves fluttered, drawing his attention to the movement.
He didn’t see any unusual movement as he scanned the hills in front of them. No reflections on a scope. So why did he feel as though someone had them in his sights?
“Grant.” Teagan’s voice was low and soft. “Look at this.”
He crouched beside her and studied the shell casing on the ground. “It’s from a 7.62 x 51mm round.” He glanced at Teagan. “What’s that tell you?”
“Given his accuracy, I think he has professional training.”
“Military or law enforcement.”
She gave a curt nod. “That’s my guess.”
“Where is his nest?”
Teagan inclined her head toward the stand of rocks in front of them. “He used the middle rock as a platform for his rifle. You can see where sand spilled from his shooting bag.”
Grant studied the area again, this time looking for obstructions for the shooter. “How hard a shot is this?”
She turned and looked toward the Bowen house in the distance. “Medium, leaning toward hard. Several people were on the patio, Grant. There was also a lot of movement. Your father moved at the last second and saved his own life. If he’d remained in the same position, he’d be in the morgue by now.”
“He still might end up there,” he muttered. “One shot, center mass. That bullet could have done a lot of damage.”
“If he’s anything like you, Mr. Bowen will pull through. He seems pretty tough.”
Yeah, but toughness didn’t stop bullets.
“At least you’ll be able to show the police where the shooter set up his nest. I would go closer to examine it, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t be happy with me if I did.”
“The last thing we need to do is to disturb the crime scene. The detective would be livid.”
She sighed. “Yeah, all right. I get it. I just hope the cops are good at their jobs. We need every piece of information we can get.”
Goosebumps surged along the surface of Grant’s skin. Once again, he quartered the area, slowly surveying the quadrants.
Teagan eased closer. “What’s wrong?”
“We have eyes on us. You feel them?”
She was silent for a moment. “Yeah. We need to get out of here and back to the house. The cops must be there by now.”
With one last perusal of the area, Grant motioned for Teagan to go ahead of him. The lady would be ticked off if she knew he had put her in the lead to protect her. He could stand that.
What he couldn’t handle was the fury of his team leader if anything happened to Teagan on Grant’s watch. After all the times that Seth saved his life on the battlefield, no way would Grant allow anything to happen to his friend’s wife.
The back of Grant’s neck prickled. Not a good sign. He picked up his pace, closing the gap between him and Teagan. Grant was three strides behind her when he heard pebbles rolling down an incline.
Alarm roared through him in an instant. Without giving himself a chance to second guess his decision, Grant tackled Teagan, taking her to the ground. A split second later, he grunted at the painful burning sensation in his right side.
The crack of a second rifle shot spurred him into action. Grant leaped off of Teagan, hauled her to her feet, and rushed for the cover of a stand of nearby trees. “You okay?”
