Page 115 of Ground Truth

Safer to assume so.

Which meant Flint was stuck here on the north side until he figured out a better plan.

Flint flipped around to hug the wall of the farmhouse with his belly. He extended his arm beyond the corner and fired a couple of rounds toward the south side of the open yard.

As soon as he’d fired, he turned and dashed toward the front of the house. He took the corner in two strides and ran toward the front door. He pushed it open, jumped inside, and closed the heavy door behind him.

When he looked into the room, Greta stood with the shotgun aimed straight at him, her finger on the trigger.

“Greta! It’s me. Flint,” he said, holding his hand palm out, just in case fear had blinded her.

She blinked as if returning from a trance. He held his breath until she relaxed her trigger finger and lowered the gun’s barrel.

He took long steps toward her and removed the gun from her grasp.

“Sorry,” she whispered in a daze. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“Right. No worries,” he replied gently. “Where’s Hanna?”

Greta gestured toward the corner where Hanna had been hiding when he left. She was still there. Crunched into herself. Knees up, arms around them. Eyes wide and face permanently frozen like a petrified child.

“I think she’s in shock,” Flint whispered. “Has she said anything at all?”

“I’ve been talking to her, but she doesn’t say much,” Greta replied, shaking her head. “How many are out there?”

“Two.”

“Are you sure?” Greta asked.

“Let’s get both of you into one of the bedrooms where it’s warmer.” Flint shivered in the cold breeze still moving across the house from the broken kitchen windows. He moved toward Hanna’s hiding place.

The teakettle was silent now. He wondered how long it could sit on the hot burner without starting a fire in the house.

He didn’t bother to try to persuade Hanna to leave her comfort zone. He shoved the sofa aside and swooped down to lift her. She weighed so little it was frightening.

“Lead the way,” he said to Greta, who did as he asked.

She hurried along the dim corridor toward the bedroom, Flint following behind with Hanna in his arms.

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Chapter 55

When they reached the bedroom, Flint placed Hanna on the bed and covered her with the thick down comforter. Greta sat on the bed beside her, still holding the shotgun.

“Now what?” Greta asked.

“One of the shooters is dead,” Flint said, as if he knew for sure that was true. “There’s another one. I can’t get eyes on him outside.”

Greta’s eyes widened when she realized what he planned to do. “You’re gonna fight him in here? In ourhome?”

Flint understood her horror. But he didn’t have a better plan. If he could lure the second shooter into the house, Flint could kill him. Outside, the shooter had every advantage.

“When I leave the room, you lock the door. Don’t open it again until I tell you it’s safe.” He gave her a steady stare. “No matter what happens. Okay?”

Greta nodded.

“You keep that shotgun ready. Anybody tries to come in here other than me, you blast first and ask questions later,” Flint said urgently, giving her hands a squeeze. “Okay? You understand?”

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