Line of Fire

Adam snorted. “It’s four-thirty in the afternoon.”

“Hell, Adam, it’s seven-thirty in New York City, Washington D.C., and Miami. Pick a metropolis. We’ll pretend we’re there and cut loose for an afternoon. We deserve it.”

Bit by bit, courthouse security thinned the crowd. Then Adam noted more people pouring in from outside, barely clearing security before they dashed toward Faith and Yube. Through the sea of dark-colored clothing, Adam caught a golden flash of Faith. She had a hand on Yube’s arm and was maneuvering him toward a reporter with a feed from CNN.

“Damn, she killed us,” Henry said, his voice sounding appropriately miffed for the first time since the judge had dismissed the charges.

Adam shook his head emphatically. “No, the only killer around here is Yube. She just added another section to our manual on processing evidence in an emergency situation.”

The crowd swelled again, and when Faith pressed through with Yube on one side and her assistant on the other, Adam had had enough. Heading toward them, he pulled out his cell phone and used the walkie-talkie feature to call for backup, then made his way through the swarm of lookers-on, reporters and various other courtroom clingers, and tugged at Faith’s jacket.

He jerked his head and she seemed to understand that their attempt to leave wasn’t going as it should. She pulled Yube toward her, but lost her assistant temporarily in the melee.

“The crowd’s just as bad behind us!” she shouted. “What’s going on? Where’s Security?”

“Overwhelmed, more than likely. Word must have traveled fast.” To retain a better hold on her, he slipped his hand around her waist. The intimate move made her eyes flash in warning.

“Just give me a second,” Adam insisted. “I’ll get you out.”

In ten minutes, the uniforms had the hallway cleared. The reporters had been ordered off the premises, relegated to the bottom of the limestone steps just below the expansive courtyard and plaza. The neck-craning citizens had been told to get on with their business or move along—and most had dispersed without argument. The hall still wasn’t quiet, as county employees milled toward the exits at the end of the workday, but at least they could talk without yelling.

“We can escort you out the back, then send someone for your vehicles later,” Adam suggested, noting how the hectic quality of the moment had brought a slight sheen to Faith’s skin.

She seemed to consider the suggestion, but Yube, who’d remained judiciously quiet until now, spoke up. “I’d rather go out the front doors, Faith. I’ve been exonerated.” He pointed his gaze directly at Adam and Henry. “I want everyone to see I’m a free man.”

Henry slipped his hands into his pockets and turned his head away. Adam could taste the prosecutor’s anger as bitterly as he could taste his own, but he swallowed his rancor and focused on the matter at hand.

“Your choice, Mr. Yube.”

“Dr. Yube,” the man corrected, his eyes staring daggers.

As if he had any right to still call himself a physician! Adam opened his mouth, but Faith silenced him before he had a chance to give the murderous son of a bitch a piece of his mind.

“Just let’s get out of here, George,” Faith insisted to her client. “Roma?”

Faith’s assistant disconnected her ear from her cell phone. Pretty, young and Hispanic, she glowed, apparently feeding off Faith’s approval. “I checked your messages. Nothing that can’t wait until morning. I also cancelled your five-thirty and rescheduled for tomorrow at nine. Ready to go?”

Roma’s wide brown eyes darted among the party, seemingly oblivious in her youthfulness to the tension crackling around her. Adam figured the girl was fresh out of law school, no more than twenty-four, and likely hadn’t even taken the bar exam, much less passed it.

“Yes,” Faith answered, then nodded toward Henry and Adam. “Mr. Lalane, Detective Guthrie. It’s been a pleasure.”

She marched toward the doors, her assistant struggling to keep up on her pointy high-heeled shoes, and Yube strutting with an arrogant confidence that made Adam’s blood boil.

“So, you in for the brewski or what?” Henry asked.

Adam was severely tempted. When he’d woken up this morning and gone for his run, he’d jogged an extra mile, thanks to the added energy of knowing Yube’s hearing would go their way. He’d never imagined that a distraught detective’s actions would blow this case to shreds. Faith might have been right to question the chain of evidence, and the law might have supported her contention that the lack of control over the evidence made its veracity suspect, but damn, didn’t she realize she’d just helped a baby-killer go free?

“Faith!” he shouted, before he knew why he’d called her by her first name or what he would say to her if she stopped. He jogged toward her.

Yube and Roma continued toward the wide glass doors while Faith paused, turning on her spiked high heel. “Yes, Detective?”

He didn’t stop until her face was inches from his. “This is wrong. You know that, right?”

She let out an exasperated breath and turned away, continuing toward her client, who’d stopped to allow an elderly woman to pass through the door in front of him.

“Thought you weren’t going to berate me, Detective,” she reminded him, her tone curt. She caught up to her client, but declined his gestured invitation for her to exit first. Typical. The woman probably didn’t like guys opening car doors for her, either.

“I’m not berating,” Adam said, much more insistent than Yube when it was her time to walk outside. He followed her through the glass doors. Okay, he’d lost this case. He might not have the chance to contribute to making Yube really pay for his heinous crimes against this community and the families his lies and schemes had ripped apart, but maybe he could convince Faith to work for him, rather than against him. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it wasn’t bad. “I’m appealing to your sense of justice.”

That stopped her dead. She rounded on him slowly, her eyes squinting against the reflection of the sun on the limestone plaza outside the courthouse. “My sense of—”

The last word of her protest vanished under a loud crack, a sound Adam reacted to without thought, reason or logic—just instinct. He grabbed Faith by the arms and shoved her toward the nearest wall, glancing over his shoulder long enough to witness people on the plaza screaming, running haphazardly, standing still as statues in shock, or dropping to the ground for cover.

Someone had fired into the crowd. Adam didn’t know who had been the target, but his stomach tightened. If he didn’t act fast, someone would end up very, very dead.

CHAPTER TWO

F AITH GRUNTED . Adam’s full weight forced her against the brick wall so that the mortar bit through her jacket into her shoulder blades. A bullet sliced the air, then exploded on the limestone just a few feet away. Oh God! If he hadn’t pushed her out of the way, her head might have exploded instead of the stone.

Adam had drawn his gun, a large revolver that gleamed black and dangerous despite the muted sunlight from the shade of the U-shaped courthouse. Except for two people lying on the ground, the plaza had quickly cleared—so far as she could see, with Adam’s massive body curled protectively over hers.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“Sniper,” he answered curtly, turning to scan the windows across and above. “From the top of this side of the building.” He stretched his left arm out, as if bracing an invisible shield across her.

Faith’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, she smelled it—

Blood. Lots of blood.

“Stay back,” he ordered.

“I’m not moving. You shouldn’t, either. Let the cops on duty handle this. Someone called for backup, right?”

With a slight shake of his head, Adam continued to peer upward. “Don’t know. Don’t move, Counselor, do you understand?”

She growled in frustration. What did he think she’d do, run into the courtyard like a big yellow target?

“Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”

He wasn’t facing her, so he likely didn’t know that she was scared spitless and couldn’t move her legs even if she wanted to. She forced dry gulps of air into her lungs, fighting the instinct to grab Adam when he started to inch away. She fisted her hands at her sides, then flattened against the wall as much as her 36-C breasts would allow, and tried to ignore the ringing in her ears. She had to let him do his job. He was the chief of detectives, for Pete’s sake. He didn’t need her help. Besides, she loved her life and didn’t much fancy losing it to a faceless coward with a rifle, a scope and a deadly vendetta.

Adam extracted his cell phone from his pocket and instantly connected with the dispatcher. “Yube is down. So is…looks like Lorraine Nelson. Shots seemed to come from the top of the south annex.” He requested an ambulance, then paused before speaking again with calm precision. “No, the area is not secure, but the back entrance is likely clear. Can’t tell from here. Have EMT on standby just inside the doors. Evacuate the building. Alert SWAT. Inform Zirinsky that we need an Incident Command System. We’re sitting ducks!”

Adam crouched, moving slowly toward the two bodies. When she saw the blood pooling reddish black against the stark white stone, oozing from the back of George Yube’s head, Faith’s stomach roiled. A gasp lodged in her throat, blocking her airway. She pressed hard against her stomach, forcing her diaphragm to work.

“Is he—?”

“Yes,” Adam answered. “Can’t tell about Lorraine. I don’t see a wound.”