Veiled Intentions. Delores Fossen
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an auxiliary building out there. Two story, brown brick,” she relayed to Rico. “Our gunman could be using it as a catbird seat.”
He nodded and without taking his attention off the partially shot-out stained glass window, he whispered to her over his shoulder. “You don’t happen to have another brother stashed in the parking lot, huh?”
“I wish. But no. We’re on our own until backup arrives.” Which wouldn’t be for minutes. Long, critical minutes.
Where just about anything could happen.
“Good,” Rico responded. “Because I have an officer out there. One who’s officially on this case, and I didn’t want any of your relatives accidentally shooting him while he’s trying to do his job.”
Katelyn didn’t appreciate the sarcasm but welcomed all the help they could get. Maybe the officer would be able to stop the gunman before any more damage was done.
But at the moment that seemed a lot to hope for.
There’d been damage already. Even if they stopped the shooting here and now, every one of the guests would remember this horrifying ordeal for the rest of their lives. Katelyn blamed herself for that. She’d been in a position to stop this and had failed.
A second shot rang out, quickly followed by another. And another. Two of the three went through a window on the right front side of the church and tore chunks of glass from the frame. No doubt that’s what the shooter had intended to do. Now he or she had a direct line of sight into the church.
Yelling and crying out, the bride, groom and minister scurried to the other side of the altar, but it wouldn’t give them shelter for long. Bullets could easily eat through that wood.
“I’ll make my way over there.” Rico tipped his head to a set of ornate double doors, which were only a couple of yards away from the shattered window. “If necessary I’ll return fire to draw the shooter’s attention. I might be able to get a visual and take him out.”
Yes. Or maybe the gunman would get him first. Of course, that was a chance they had to take.
“I can help.” Katelyn kicked off her shoes and peeled off the silky jacket so they wouldn’t get in her way. “There aren’t any guests near that other window next to the doors. I’ll knock out the glass and return fire, as well. Don’t worry—I’ll keep watch for your officer and make sure I don’t send any friendly fire his way.”
Rico might have disagreed with that impromptu plan, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything. More shots came crashing through the building.
Heavy, thick blasts.
Nonstop, this time.
The sounds were deafening. And they drowned out the shouts, screams and prayers that increased with each new round of fire. Just as Katelyn had figured, those shots were aimed right at the wooden altar. It was the same as the first shooting, the one that had killed Gail and her fiancé. Shots and plenty of them. But that knowledge gave Katelyn no comfort whatsoever. She’d already guessed that Gail’s murder wasn’t some random act of violence.
For all the good it’d done her.
Her guess was right, and yet it’d still been repeated right under her nose.
The bride screamed. Maybe in pain. Maybe just from fear. Katelyn prayed it was fear.
Rico moved. Fast and low. He was almost graceful, surprising for a man his size. With Katelyn following closely behind him, they went toward the door. Along the way, he identified himself and doled out assurances to the terrified guests.
He kept close to the perimeter wall until he got to the row of the stained glass windows, and then he lowered himself to the floor and proceeded to the doors.
The shots stopped for only a couple of seconds. Not for reloading, Katelyn soon learned. And they didn’t stop because the gunman was finished for the day. The break was so the person could change out rifles. The sound of the new shots told her that much since it was a different calibration. Whoever was doing this had certainly come prepared to kill but wasn’t necessarily an expert marksman. The stray bullets were landing everywhere—which, of course, made the situation all the more dangerous.
Katelyn made her way right along behind Joe Rico. Trying to time it perfectly to coordinate with his efforts, she sheltered her eyes and used the grip of her gun to knock out the glass that formed the image of the archangel, Michael. The glass was solid and held in place by not just strips of lead solder but also a sturdy frame. It took several hard jabs before she managed to dislodge enough of it so she could see into the parking lot.
Pressing her back against the narrow section of wall next to the doors, she rotated her body and did a quick check outside. She had a fairly good view of the building—and the dozen or so windows facing the church. Too many windows, and the reflection of the early afternoon sun didn’t make things easier. She quickly scanned them all as best she could.
No shooter in sight.
Yet, he had to be there.
Somewhere.
Because he was still firing.
While still low on the floor, Rico reached up and turned the old-fashioned brass handle on the door. He opened it a fraction and looked out. Katelyn waited for a signal so she could return fire.
And just like that, the shots stopped.
She felt another surge of adrenaline slam through her. A bad-feeling kind of surge. If the gunman wasn’t shooting, then he was likely making his getaway.
That couldn’t happen.
Because she knew in her heart that he would continue this until someone stopped him.
It was a risk, but Katelyn moved closer to the window so she could check the parking lot and the grounds. Rico did the same to the door. He stood, took position and aimed.
“Think,” she whispered to herself. If she were a killer, what would be her escape plan? Not the parking lot. Too visible. Not the side either since it bumped right against a fairly busy street.
No.
He’d go out the rear of the building and slip into the myriad of old shops and businesses that were crammed into this particular part of the downtown area.
Katelyn heard the sound of sirens the moment that Rico opened the door wider. Mumbling something, he peered out. He’d perhaps come to the same conclusion as she had. The gunman was getting away.
“Stay put,” Rico ordered.
It was a logical order.
Katelyn needed to stay there to protect the guests. Still, part of her wanted to go after the gunman.
“Hold your positions,” Garrett called out from the arched entryway that led into the church. Katelyn glanced at him and saw that he had his phone pressed to his ear. “Backup is in pursuit of a white car that just sped away.”
Katelyn released the breath that she didn’t even know she’d been holding. She glanced at Rico, but he didn’t seem any more eager than she was to let down his guard. So they did the only thing they could do. They waited with their backs literally against the wall and their guns ready.
“Is anyone hurt?” Rico called out to the guests.
The response varied, most still layered with panic, but from what she gathered, no one had actually been shot. Nothing short of a miracle. Katelyn said a quick prayer of thanks for that and then turned to the man who’d given her so much grief about being here.
“Still think I’m the wrong person for this case?” she asked Rico.
“Yes.” No hesitation whatsoever.
The analogy of butting her head against a brick wall came to mind. “But I guessed right about the gunman picking this particular wedding. Even in your book that has to count for something.”
He