The Sheriff's Secret. Julie Lindsey Anne
the group had always taken the requirements seriously. Until now. So what were those two up to?
She rubbed goose bumps off her arms. Trouble was coming, she was sure of it. She just wasn’t sure what form it would take. She approached her wide office windows and gave the empty sidewalk outside another long look. The forest of brightly colored trees across the lot swayed with a wicked wind. It wasn’t autumn in Kentucky until a storm tried to knock you down. “Please take it slow on your way home or to work.” She turned to face the group with a forced smile. “It doesn’t look good out there.”
The men and women nodded in easy agreement.
“If any of you hear from Carl or Tucker, please let them know they were missed.” Tina was certain many of them were worried, too, but there was nothing to be done about it for now. Instead, they flattened folding chairs and dropped disposable cups into the trash, making fast work of the cleanup and sending faint scents of cigarette smoke and coffee into the air. The scents of her childhood, minus the distinct sting of alcohol.
When the room was righted, she shouldered her handbag and collected the empty tray from her homemade blueberry muffins. Early morning sessions were popular with her group, and Tina tried to send a little hope and encouragement with each member when they left. At least enough to help them face whatever the day might bring. So far, this day had brought plenty of rain. The forecasted showers had come right on schedule, successfully soaking everything in sight. “I suppose we might as well make a run for it. The rain doesn’t appear to be giving up anytime soon.” In fact, the rain hadn’t slowed since it began more than an hour before. “Does everyone have a ride?”
Steven, the newest member of her group, looked away as the others raised their car keys.
“Steven?” She tipped her head toward the sheeting rain. “Would you like a ride home? I’m sure someone would be glad to drive you. No one should walk in this.”
Several members chimed in with offers, and Steven dipped his chin in agreement to the one made by Carol, an older woman standing near the door. Carol winked at Tina. She’d see Steven home safely.
Sometimes heading a recovery group for PTSD and trauma survivors was tricky. What one member saw as comfort, another saw as a threat, and so far, Steven saw most things as a threat. He’d joined the group after receiving an other-than-honorable discharge from the army last month. His severe emotional trauma had led to unbecoming behavior that garnered him a quick boot from the service, complete with truncated benefits and nowhere to turn for the support he needed. Luckily, Tina had found him, and she was certain she could help, if she didn’t scare him away first.
“All right. Here we go.” She swung the door open and held it for the group to pass. Together, they moved onto the sidewalk and waited beneath the large metal awning while Tina locked up. Hopefully, wherever Carl and Tucker were, they were safe, not caught in a flash flood or car accident or worse. She blamed her “mother’s mind” for the number of scary scenarios scooting through her head. Since the birth of her precious daughter four months ago, she’d begun to see potential danger everywhere and longed more than ever to wrap her arms around the entire world in protection.
Slowly, a few brave souls ventured into the storm, plodding through puddles toward their vehicles and prompting the others to follow. The lot was nearly empty this time of day, making Mountain Medical Plaza the perfect location for her private morning sessions.
Tina followed Carol and Steven toward a massive pickup truck whose lights flashed and locks popped up upon approach. Tina’s car was the small sedan two spots away. Steven slowed his pace as he neared Carol’s truck, suddenly unconcerned by the rain and wholly focused on a distant point in the morning sky.
“Steven?” Tina lifted her handbag overhead, a makeshift umbrella, and squinted through the rain. “Everything okay?”
He raised an arm, finger pointed at the building’s rooftop. “Do you see that?”
The fine hairs on the back of Tina’s neck raised to attention. She forced her eyes to focus through the downpour. “What do you see?”
A small shadow rocked into view. What appeared to be the long barrel of a rifle stretched out before it.
Ice coiled in Tina’s gut. It couldn’t be...
“Gun!” Steven yelled. “Get down!” He turned for Tina, arms thrown wide as one loud blast of gunfire cracked the air. Steven’s head whipped back and his gait fell short. His legs crumbled beneath him and his body collapsed onto the rain-battered asphalt in a silent thud. Group members screamed and hollered around her, scattering between vehicles and running for the building. Shattered glass rained over Steven, falling from the truck window at his side.
Tina’s lungs burned as she struggled to breathe. She fell to the ground, barely perceiving what had happened. Wind whipped through her hair and mingled with the ringing in her ears. Voices warbled around her, distorted by the storm and panic beating through her head. “Stay down!” she screamed. “Get down and stay down!” She forced her eyes to search for the shadow once more, but it was gone.
Where did it go? She craned her neck in every direction, as if the shooter could be anywhere, beside her, behind her. Her chest ached and her mouth dried. How could she know who the next bullet would hit? Would there be another? Was the man finished shooting, or was he reloading? She dug her phone from her purse and dialed 911.
“911. What’s your emergency?” a tinny voice echoed in her ringing ear.
Tina scrambled under the truck, counting pairs of feet moving through the lot toward the building. Four. Good. The rest were safe and together now.
“Ma’am? What’s your emergency?” the voice repeated.
The world snapped back into focus then, the tragedy becoming unbearably clear. “There’s a gunman at Mountain Medical Plaza.” The words fell clumsily off her tongue, a line memorized for a play. Impossible to be real. “One man is down. I don’t know.” She stared at Steven’s motionless form. “He’s not moving. I don’t know where he was hit. There’s so much blood.”
“Where’s the shooter now?”
“I’m not sure. He stopped, I think.” Tina willed her mind into focus. Her group needed her. Steven needed her.
“Are you somewhere safe now, ma’am? Is there somewhere you can find shelter until emergency responders arrive?”
Her office door seemed miles away, but two group members were already there, crouched against the wall, and two others were steps away. She could help them. Get them inside.
Screaming tires drew her attention across the lot. A faded red pickup truck roared recklessly in the distance and fishtailed onto the county road beyond, barreling away like the devil was chasing it.
Tina pulled in a long gulp of oxygen to clear her brain. “I think the shooter is gone now. There was only one shot. Maybe two minutes ago. And someone’s racing away in a pickup.” She forced herself from beneath the truck and onto her knees, crawling over the broken glass to Steven’s side. “A man’s been shot. He’s not moving.” She stared at his motionless chest. “Not breathing.” Tina pressed shaky fingers to his neck in search of a pulse that didn’t beat, then tried again. “No, no, no, no.” She set the phone on the ground at Steven’s side, pressed the speaker option, then laced her fingers against his chest and said a silent prayer. Tina filled his lungs and pumped his heart for him until her arms shook uncontrollably from terror, grief and effort. “He’s not breathing,” she cried. “His heart isn’t beating. CPR isn’t working.”
Behind her, the group bellowed for her to come to them. Above her, the thunder rolled.
Tina grabbed her phone and pushed onto her feet. In a torrent of desperation, she forced herself away from Steven. A round of ugly sobs pressed through her tightened lips as she hurried back to the group collecting outside her office once more. She wiped her hands on her shirt, smearing it with blood, then jammed her key into the lock and ushered the others inside. “One man is dead,”