Mercy Falls Read Free Page B

hauled the thermos out and put it under the deputy’s ankles. It elevated her feet only a few inches, but he hoped that would be enough.
    Then he turned his attention to the son of a bitch on the hill.
    He drew again his .38, a Smith & Wesson Police Special that had been his father’s. It was chrome-plated with a six-inch barrel and a walnut grip. The familiar heft of it, and even the history of the weapon itself, gave him a measure of confidence. He crawled under the Land Cruiser, grateful for the high clearance of the undercarriage, inching his way to the front tire on the driver’s side. From the shadow there, he peered up at the wooded hill across the road. The crown still caught the last direct rays of the sun and the birch trees dripped with a color like melting brass. After a moment, he saw a flash of reflected sunlight that could have come off the high polish of a rifle stock plate or perhaps the glass of a scope. If it was indeed from the shooter, Cork’s target was 250, maybe 300 yards away, uphill. He thought about the twelve-gauge Remington cradled on the rack inside the Land Cruiser. Should he make an attempt, risk getting himself killed in the process? No, at that distance, the shotgun would be useless, and if he were hit trying for it, there’d be nothing to prevent the goddamn bastard from coming down the hill and finishing the job he’d begun. Better to stay put and wait for backup.
    But his backup, too, would come under fire. Cork knew he had to advise them of the situation. And that meant exposing himself one more time to the sniper.
    He took aim at the place where he’d seen the flash of sunlight, which was far beyond the effective range of his .38, but he squeezed off a couple of rounds anyway to encourage the sniper to reconsider, should he be thinking about coming down.
    He shoved himself backward over the cold earth and came up on all fours beside the front passenger door. He gripped the handle and tried to take a breath, but he was so tense that he could only manage a quick, shallow gasp. He willed himself to move and flung the door open. Lunging toward the radio unit attached to the dash, he wrapped his fingers around the mike dangling on the accordion cord and fell back just as a sniper round slammed through the passenger seat back.
    “Unit Three to Unit One. Over.”
    “Unit One. Go ahead, Sheriff.”
    “We’re still taking fire, Duane. A single shooter, I think, up on a hill due east of our position, directly in front of the cabin. Which way you coming from?”
    “South,” Deputy Duane Pender said.
    “Approach with extreme caution.”
    “Ten-four, Cork.”
    “Unit Two to Unit Three. Over.”
    “I read you, Cy.”
    “I’m coming in from the north. I’ll be a couple of minutes behind Pender.”
    “Ten-four. Listen, I want you guys coming with your sirens blasting. Maybe we can scare this guy.”
    “We might lose him, Sheriff,” Pender said.
    “Right now our job is to get an ambulance in here for Marsha.”
    “Dispatch to Unit Three.”
    “Go ahead, Patsy.”
    “Ambulance estimates another twelve to fifteen minutes, Sheriff. They want to know Marsha’s situation.”
    “Single bullet, entry and exit wounds. I’ve got compresses on both. I’ve put a blanket around her and elevated her feet. She’s still losing blood.”
    “Ten-four. Also, State Patrol’s responding. They’ve got two cruisers dispatched to assist.”
    “I copy that. Out.”
    Cork crawled toward Dross. Her face was pale, bloodless.
    “A few more minutes, Marsha. Help’s on the way.”
    She seemed focused on the sky above them both. She whispered something.
    “What?” Cork leaned close.
    “ Star light, star bright …”
    Cork lifted his eyes. The sun had finally set and the eastern sky was turning inky. He saw the evening star, a glowing ember caught against the rising wall of night.
    From a distance came the thin, welcome howl of a siren.
    Cork looked down at his deputy and remembered what she’d