Wynn heard a gunshot and moments later, the sound of a powerful engine as a car took off, screeching around a corner and speeding away. He rushed to his window just in time to see a patrol car take after a sports car as it raced down the main street out of town. Seconds later, another patrol car joined the chase while a third one tore into the parking lot beside the hotel.
Now what the hell’s going on? Curious, he headed downstairs to the lot. He saw John and another deputy kneeling beside—
“Hell no!” Wynn raced to join them just as the ambulance from the clinic pulled into view, screaming to a stop in front of Mick’s car.
“Stay back, Walt,” John ordered as Wynn tried to get closer.
Mick was sprawled on the ground beside his car. Someone had torn open his shirt, and John was pressing a now blood-soaked handkerchief to Mick’s chest. More blood leaked from the corner of Mick’s mouth.
The EMTs were beside Mick seconds later, doing what they could to stabilize him while Wynn watched in stunned disbelief. “Did it…did it hit his heart?” he stammered out.
Without looking up, one of the EMTs shook his head. “Got a lung though. John, call the clinic and have them send for a medical helicopter. We need to get Mick to a hospital ASAP.”
John was on the phone seconds later, relaying the message. As soon as he’d hung up, it rang, and he answered. “Damn it! Okay, get back here on the double. Mick’s been shot.” Closing his phone, he turned to Wynn. “Whoever did this got away.”
“His name’s Danny. I don’t know his last name. He’s…I guess he was someone from Mick’s past from the way it sounded.”
“Augie got his license plate numbers. He put out an APB to the state troopers. There’s nowhere he can get off the highway until he hits the Interstate—or at least nowhere that’ll take him anywhere.”
All the time they were talking Wynn kept his gaze focused on Mick and the EMTs. Now they were carefully putting Mick on a stretcher and moving him to the ambulance. Wynn started forward, only to have John grip his arm to stop him.
“I’ll drive you to the clinic,” John said. “You can wait there until the helicopter arrives. You know they won’t let you go with him to the hospital.”
Wynn buried his face in his hands for a moment, willing away the need to scream, cry, or hit something. “Take me,” he finally said as the ambulance pulled away.
* * * *
Thanks to John, Wynn was able to see Mick after the ambulance got him to the town’s clinic, although only from across the room at first while the doctors worked to keep him stabilized until the helicopter arrived. As Mick had predicted, they wouldn’t let Wynn ride along on the flight down to the city, but they did give him a moment with Mick, even though the sheriff was unconscious.
Wynn stared down at Mick’s pale face, whispering, “Now you look like me.” A total non sequitur he knew but it just came out. Then he gently touched Mick’s shoulder. “You’re going to make it. You have to. I’m not losing you. Not now. Not this way.” He saw a tear fall onto Mick’s face and realized he was crying. Then one of the helicopter EMTs told him they had to leave.
“He’s going to be all right,” John said, putting an arm around Wynn’s shoulder as they watched the helicopter lift off. “They all know what they’re doing.”
Wynn could only nod as he moved away. “I…I’m going down there to be with him.”
“Of course. I’d offer to come along but someone’s got to be here when they catch that bastard. And they will.”
“They’d better,” Wynn said angrily. Then he walked slowly across the clinic parking lot and onto the sidewalk leading back to the hotel. Or I will. He knew in that instant what he had to do. He returned to the hotel and his car. Soon he was on the highway, heading in the same direction Danny had. He scanned every side road as he drove, looking for any sign that Mick’s assailant had turned off on to one of them.
It seemed to take hours, although he knew it had only been fifteen minutes at most, before he saw what he’d been looking for—tire marks in the dirt where a car had made a sudden turn onto a barely visible side road. He wondered how the deputies had missed it, but figured it was probably because they were too far behind Danny on the sharp curves of the highway and concentrating on catching up with him.
Turning off onto the narrow, paved road, Wynn followed it for over a mile before he saw Danny’s car. The man had pulled off into a wide place between two tall trees. Probably thought no one would see it here. Or at least not until he’d had time to get far enough away they wouldn’t catch him.
Wynn stopped behind Danny’s car and got out.
* * * *
The white cat sniffed, seeking the scent of his prey, his sharp eyes looking for any trace of the man he sought.
There.
A disturbance in the rotted leaves, which littered the forest floor, told him something much larger than a rabbit or a chipmunk had displaced them.
Lifting his head he caught the odor of sweat and fear that came to him as a slight breeze rustled the leaves of the trees. He stalked on padded paws, following it.
The odor strengthened. The cat swiveled his ears, trying to pick up any noise from his prey.
There.
Far ahead there was the sound of short, panting breaths, as if his prey was exhausted from fighting his way through the thick underbrush that filled much of the area between the trees. Then there was a gasp of fright.
The cat caught the scent of a cougar, mingled with the scent of fear from his prey.
Moving quickly, he heard the man begin to run, stumbling, floundering through the shrubs. The cougar followed, snarling as it closed in on the man.
He’s mine. Not yours.
The cat raced forward, roaring as it leapt through the trees. The cougar spun to face him when the cat appeared, lips drawn back to reveal his fangs. The white cat stalked forward, his own fangs bared.
Behind the cougar, the man cowered in fear against the trunk of a large pine. Small mewling noises escaped him.
The cat sprang, his powerful jaws clamping down on the cougar’s shoulder. With a mighty shake of his head, he threw the cougar against a tree. The cougar screamed out its rage as it clambered to its feet. The cat growled low, moving in for the kill. The cougar seemed to think better of engaging again. Spinning around, it swiftly disappeared through the trees. The cat let it go, turning his gaze on the man.
The odor of urine and sweat rose from the man who now crouched in terror at the base of the tree. The cat stalked toward him, fangs bared again.
“Oh God, oh God,” the man whimpered, burying his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to…I just wanted…”
The cat paused, one ear cocked forward as he listened.
He should die…but…
The white cat lifted one paw, sharp claws extended.
The man fainted.
* * * *
“Damn, I thought you’d taken off on your own,” John said when Wynn walked into the sheriff’s office forty minutes after Mick had been airlifted to the hospital.
Wynn nodded. “Almost did, was half-way to the Interstate when I realized I didn’t know where I was going. Have you heard anything?”
“It’s too early yet. I’m going down, though, if you want to ride with me.”
“I do.” Wynn rubbed his forehead between his fingers.
“Headache?” John asked with concern as he headed toward the back exit of the building.
“Just worried and scared. Damn it, John, he has to make it. He has to.”
John waited until Wynn was in the car before saying, “He’s going to. He’s strong and he’s got everyone in town praying for him. That’s got to count for something.” After pulling out of the lot onto the street, John added, “And he’s got you. Hell, that alone gives him a reason to stick around.”
Wynn smiled sadly. “Please God that’s true.”
They drove in silence as the sun slowly dropped down behind the mountains, each man wrapped in his own thoughts. When John’s cell rang, they both jumped. Wynn watched tensely as John answered, fearing the worst.
“The hell you say,” John replied to whoever had called. “He’s where?” Whatever the caller said brought a smile to John’s face. “Well, get him back to town. Toss him in a cell and, hell, throw away the key as far as I’m concerned.”
Hanging up, John told Wynn, “According to Pete, one of the troopers found Danny Rivers.”
“You know his last name?”
“Yeah, we got it when we ran his plates. Anyway, when Pete got there, the trooper was standing under a tree looking up at the branches. Rivers was on one of the high ones, hanging onto the tree trunk for dear life. After Pete and the trooper finally talked him down, they asked what the hell he’d thought he was doing. All Rivers said was he was about to be attacked by some large, white cat and passed out. When he came to, he was in the tree.” John snorted in derision. “I’ve heard some wild stories from people we’ve arrested but that one takes the cake.”
Wynn smiled. “Too bad he didn’t fall out and break something. Preferably his neck.”
“I’m with you on that one,” John agreed. “Would have saved the state the cost of a trial.”