drew in a deep breath and exchanged an incredulous look with Jordan. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. His napkin fluttered to the floor. He and Katie bent at the same time to retrieve it.
A crack sounded. Betty screamed as the sugar jar in front of Jordan exploded.
* * *
Jordan spun, grabbed his weapon even as he ducked for cover. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Katie doing the same. Another blast came from outside the diner and hit the mirror over the bar. Katie screamed, “Get down! Get down! Call nine-one-one!”
The deafening chaos surrounding him, Jordan hit the floor, then scrambled to one of the unoccupied booths. Betty yelled into her cell phone as she crouched behind the bar.
A squeal of tires, a burst of horns and one sickening crunch followed by two more sent Jordan racing for the door of the diner. Katie followed. Outside, he saw the wreckage on the busy road. Katie turned to the patrons and hollered, “Everyone stay back and stay away from the windows!”
“You see him?” Jordan asked, scanning the area even as he moved toward the pileup. A car peeled away.
“There he goes!” Katie yelled.
“He’ll just have to go,” Jordan said between clenched teeth. “We’ve got to make sure no one’s hurt. Come on.” He got on the phone and called in the direction the shooter was heading.
A woman stumbled from the three-car wreck, holding her bleeding head. “He stole my car!” Katie bolted over. She gripped the young woman by her upper arms and led her away from the vehicles. “He had a gun and he hit me with it.”
The woman’s tears flowed while Jordan called back to let them know the vehicle was stolen. “I need CSU here, too.”
Kate settled the distraught woman on the curb. She looked to be in her early twenties. Petite and soft. Defenseless. An easy target. “What’s your name?” Katie asked.
“Miranda.”
“Did you get a good look at him, Miranda?”
“No. He came from behind and pulled me out. I never saw his face. But he had a rifle strapped to his back and a pistol in his right hand. I saw those real clear.”
“Stay here.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Jordan left Katie with Miranda and went to see who else needed help. He asked a young woman with a toddler strapped into a car seat in the back of her minivan, “Are you all right? Your child?”
Oh, Lord, please, not a child.
But the woman nodded as she unbuckled the crying little one, her scared, pinched features doubling his determination to catch the person who’d caused this.
An older gentleman in a gray Taurus held his neck. Jordan jogged over to him. “Sir? Don’t move, help’s on the way.”
“I’m all right. Did you see that idiot? Pulled right out of the parking lot and wrecked his car, then stole another one.”
“You saw him?”
“Clear as day.”
“What’s your name?”
“Bobby Young.”
“We’ll get you checked out and then I’ll need to get a statement from you, all right? We’ll want you to meet with a sketch artist, too.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever I can do to help catch that maniac.”
Four police cruisers pulled into the area, blue lights flashing. Two officers made their way to him, and Jordan flashed his badge then gave them a rundown on what he’d done.
“We’ll take it from here. Thanks.”
Three ambulances arrived, and the paramedics got to work.
Jordan found Katie taking statements and keeping people clear of the wreck. She glanced at him. “CSU on the way?”
“Yes, along with everyone else.”
Three fire trucks screamed onto the scene. Katie nodded. “Good.”
Jordan knew he might be overstepping his bounds. Technically, while he was employed with the FBI, the FBI didn’t handle car wrecks or local shootings, but he figured since one of those bullets came mighty close to having his name on it, he’d just work as though he belonged there. At least until someone told him otherwise.
Katie grabbed his arm to get his attention in all the chaos. She held up her phone. “Just got a call. He got away. They can’t find any sign of him anywhere.”
Jordan nodded. He wasn’t surprised.
The crime scene unit van pulled into the diner parking lot. Jordan followed Katie and waited as the vehicle parked on the edge of the lot.
* * *
Katie watched Faith Nelson climb from the van. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“What happened?”
Katie filled her in as the woman grabbed her gear from the back of the van. To help process the scene, Faith had brought three of her team. Two headed for the diner; Faith and her other coworker started in the parking lot. “Where was he parked?”
“I’m not sure.” She pointed to the street where Jordan directed traffic around the crunched vehicles. “But he ended up in that wreck before he stole another car that wasn’t involved in the accident.”
Faith delegated assignments to her team and headed over to the shooter’s vehicle. Katie followed. Jordan tucked his phone in his pocket and looked at her. “The car’s stolen.”
“Naturally.”
Faith shrugged. “I’ll do the best I can do here. Will be able to do more once we get it to the lab.” She glanced at Katie. “I’ll have Mariah work on it.”
Katie nodded. “Thanks.”
The crime scene photographer had his work cut out for him between the wreck and the diner. She noticed he had someone with him to help. For the next two hours, Katie worked the scene and listened as Jordan offered his opinion and expertise. He kept a low profile and didn’t try to take over, although he might have wanted to. That bullet had come awfully close to his head. If she hadn’t dropped her napkin—
“You ready to get out of here?”
Jordan’s low voice cut into her thoughts.
“I’m ready.”
Katie looked back at where the wreck had been. Broken bits of glass that had escaped the sweep-up were the only sign of the chaos from just a few hours earlier. The diner was another matter—crime scene tape and broken windows were evidence of the reality of what had happened.
She climbed into Jordan’s truck and put on her seat belt. He said, “The car that the shooter was driving
