Page 64 of Break Away
The trailhead was about fifty feet away. Sheedged out of the shadows, then began to run across the last thirtyfeet, Lucy in front of her. Another shot rang out. This time thebullet ricocheted off a boulder only a few behind her and Zoey’sheart slammed into her throat. Either the poacher had really badeyesight and had mistaken her and Lucy for wild game, or he had acompletely different kind of game in mind.
They made it to the bathroom, Zoey bringingLucy behind the concrete block structure for protection. Shecrouched down, her arm around the big dog’s neck, heart beating afrantic tattoo in her chest.
Grabbing the satellite phone from her belt,she keyed in the numbers and waited for her call to be picked up.It was routed to a California Highway Patrol dispatcher and shetried to speak calmly despite feeling like she was going tohyperventilate. She recounted what had happened, her name and jobtitle, and her location. The dispatcher told her to wait someplacesafe until help arrived.
Zoey took that time to scan the parking area.Her Forest Service truck was the only vehicle in the lot. Shepeeked her head around the corner of the bathroom, looking in thedirection the shots had come from. The brush-covered slope behindher was topped by a rocky ridge, which provided plenty of hidingplaces. She waited and was rewarded several minutes later whenmovement caught her eye. She dug out her binoculars, brought themto her eyes, and adjusted the focus.
A dark figure separated from a clump ofboulders, and for a brief moment was silhouetted against the brightsky of early afternoon. She couldn’t tell if the person was male orfemale. But she saw a rifle held in one hand.
She watched for another minute, then,counting on there being only one shooter, rose to her feet andwhispered, “C’mon, Lucy.”
Adrenaline surged as she dug in her sidepocket for her keys even as she raced for the truck with Lucy. Zoeyopened the driver’s door and her baby hopped in ahead of her.Fearing a bullet could rip through her at any moment, she buckledLucy in before jamming the key into the starter. The engine roaredto life and Zoey was steering out of the dirt parking area, tireschurning up dust, even as she pulled on her seatbelt.
She had an idea where the shooter washeading. The trail from the ridge sloped down to another trail,about a mile back, that had forked off the one she’d been on. Thetrail met a creek at the bottom of the slope, and from therecrossed the road to continue onto a small lake.
Zoey wanted to get to that crossing beforethe shooter. Driving as fast as she dared on the dirt road, shedodged the worst of the ruts and subsidence until finally reachingthe paved section. Now able to go faster, she sped around the curveof the mountain, Lucy bracing her front legs against the motion.There it was: the sign marking the trail crossing and a turnout bigenough for one vehicle. The vehicle that was parked there was asmallish, silver Ford SUV.
Zoey hit the brakes and brought the truck toa fast stop. She rolled down her window, but before she could useher cell phone to snap a picture of the license plate, a shot rangout. She let out a startled yelp and threw down her phone whilestomping on the accelerator.
Another rifle crack, this time followed bythe solid thud of impact on metal. The truck had been hit. She spunaround a curve in the road and without braking took a quick survey.No blood from her or Lucy, no blown tires, no exploding gastanks.
She was good.
Chapter Eighteen
“You did what? What the hell were youthinking?” Levi stood with hands on hips, looking way too officialin his uniform, eyes blazing.
“I slowed down to get a picture of thelicense plate.”
The twin blazes burned hotter. “You shouldhave gotten out of there as fast as you could. What if you’d beenhit? What if Lucy had been hit? Would it have been worth gettingthe picture then?”
“Lucy and I are fine.” Zoey decided nowwasn’t the best time to bring up that her truck had a bullet holein its side. Instead of returning to the Forest Service office andpicking up her car, she’d driven straight to the Hangman’s Losspolice department.
They stood in Brad’s office where he leanedback against a cabinet that held a coffeemaker, his arms crossedover his chest, his gaze moving back and forth between Levi andZoey like he was watching a ping-pong match. Lucy had decided allthe action had worn her out and lay stretched at Brad’s feet, herrumbling snores filling the air.
“You took a careless risk,” Levi growled.
Zoey was getting a little tired of beingchastised like she was incapable of rational thought. She steppedup to Levi, her own eyes narrowed. “I absolutely was not careless.I’m not a careless person. Someone was shooting at me and I didn’twant them to get away with it. I also don’t want to worry everytime I step outside of my home that there is some crazy personwaiting for me with a rifle. So, yeah, I calculated that I couldget a photo to help identify the person before the shooter couldmake it to the road.”
Levi tipped back his head, closing his eyesas he seemed to be willing himself to calm down. He leveled hisgaze on her again. “Fine, it’s done. The Forest Service hasjurisdiction in the location where the shots were fired, but wewill investigate because it’s part of an open case. Do you have anyidea of the type of weapon used?”
She shook her head. “Too far away. I can’tgive you a description other than it was a rifle. I don’t know gunsso I don’t think I’d be able to tell you anything about it even ifI held it in my hand.”
“Damn. Okay. Send Brad and me the photo ofthe plate and we’ll run it.”
“I didn’t get the photo.”
“What? You said you slowed to take apicture.”
Zoey eyed him cautiously. He was probablygoing to go totally crazy about the next part. “Um, you couldprobably get some evidence from my truck.”
“Meaning?”
“There’s a bullet hole at the back of mytruck. I slowed, rolled down my window, then I heard more twoshots. One hit my truck and I floored it. That’s why I didn’t get apicture.”
Levi clenched his fists, the muscle in hisjaw working overtime, but he didn’t say a word. Brad moved to hisdesk and picked up the phone. “Monica, can you meet me in theparking lot?” He thanked her, then hung up.
“Monica and I will look at the hit to thetruck.”
