It was then that she hit the trip wire.
It had been strung low between the trees that marked the property line. She hadn’t seen it, hadn’t had a clue of its existence, until she went sailing through the air and landed hard in the muck.
She kept herself from crying out, but her foot was still tangled in the wire. Silently, she struggled up and started to free herself.
She was suddenly aware of a shadow looming over her. The man who pursued her was also clad in black. She looked up slowly, aware that she couldn’t be more vulnerable.
“Hello, Ashley,” the man said softly.
CHAPTER 23
Life was ebbing away. John felt it seeping from him. He wasn’t dead. Not yet. But if he didn’t get help soon, he would be.
He’d forced himself not to scream with the pain of the bullet that had torn through his flesh. He prayed that no vital organs had been hit. He prayed for the strength to find the gun that had slipped from his fingers as the bullet hit.
Reaching…inching, his blood leaving a slimy trail behind him as if he were a worm. He needed the gun. The man would be back.
After he found Ashley.
He paused, gasping in pain, his agony as much for what he thought he had done to her as it was for the pain that raged through him like a brush fire. She would die, and it would be his fault. And if he didn’t get the gun…
Then Stuart and Mary might die, as well, and all their efforts would have been in vain. Their killer knew how to fix a crime scene. It would look as if Ashley had fought them, killed them…but not before they had killed her in return. And the murder of Cassie Sewell would be credited to him.
The gun…just an inch away now.
“Hello, Marty,” Ashley replied. She wondered whether to try to fake it out or not and decided to give it a shot. “Thank God you’re here. Is Jake with you?”
“Well done, Ms. Montague. If you hadn’t been so gung-ho on being a cop, you could have tried out for the silver screen.”
She nodded. Well, she’d had to try. “If you’re going to shoot me, this looks like as good a time as any.”
“It would be. Except that you’re going to get me into that room where Stuart Fresia is lying. I could try to shoot through the door, of course. But they’ve got the place barricaded, don’t they?”
“Yup.” She was amazed that she sounded so calm. Her heart was thundering with terror, with remorse. This was it. Any minute now, he would fire. His aim would be true. She knew what a bullet looked like once it had exited the human body. Now she would know what it felt like entering.
“Come on, Ashley. Up.”
He caught her by the arm. She gritted her teeth. He was powerful, far more powerful than his laid-back act had made her expect. His fingers bit into the flesh of her upper arm. Since her foot was still caught, it felt as if he had dislocated her shoulder.
“The wire, Marty,” she said. “Sorry, but I can’t go anywhere with you while I’m still caught.”
He bent down to undo the wire and gave her the only chance she was going to get.
He still had the gun. She had nothing but desperation.
She brought her knee up, slamming it against his groin with all her strength. The blow had the desired effect. He wheezed out a cry of pain, falling forward.
And she moved. Like lightning. She somehow tore her foot free, and she ran.
The first bullet must have missed her head by inches. She heard the whine as it passed her by and went thudding into a tree. In agony or not, he was up. More shots came flying into the trees. He was on the move. And she had no idea where she was running, except into the darkness.
She surged forward and discovered that the trees were beginning to thin, the ground turning soft and boggy under her feet. With every step, her feet sank deeper. She was grateful for her jeans and sneakers—she had entered an area with sporadic patches of sawgrass. And here, as the water rose around her, she could come across all kinds of creatures that were no longer common in the city, driven away by concrete and civilization.
Water moccasins dwelt in these waters. Alligators. And the darkness…
She stumbled upward. Ground, solid ground beneath her feet. A little hammock stretching stalwartly into the canal.
Another bullet sped by her, only the sound telling her that he was still close, too close, behind.
Then, out of the darkness, something reached for her. Terror leapt into her throat. She opened her mouth to scream.
“Shush!” A hand closed over her mouth; strong arms embraced her. Filthy, soaked, covered in mud, she blinked and stared at a man who was as filthy as she was.
The hand loosened on her mouth.
“Jake?” She mouthed the word incredulously.
“Get behind me. Behind those trees.”
She pulled back, shaking her head. “Jake, it’s—it’s Marty,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Then, to her amazement, he stepped forward. “Marty!”
There was silence for a moment. Ashley swallowed hard. Jake had given away his position. Marty could shoot him easily.