hired him to find the person. And now she was rescuing joggers in the park. His heart thudded as he kept his attention tuned to the area around him.
No more shots sounded. He hoped that meant the shooter was on the run and not aiming at any more innocent people.
Brandon rounded the back of the fountain and found Sonya doing CPR on the woman she’d pulled out of harm’s way. He dropped beside her. “What can I do?”
Surprise and relief flickered across her face when she saw him. “She needs an ambulance. Her heart’s stopped.” Sonya did more compressions. “Feel for a pulse.”
Brandon did as ordered. He looked up and shook his head.
Sonya gave a growl of frustration and slammed a fist onto the woman’s chest. “Beat!” She pressed and released, pressed and released, unrelenting and breathless, with determination etched on her features.
Brandon felt a faint flutter under his fingers. “Keep going. I think I felt something.”
Hope blazed in her eyes as she continued her efforts. “Come on, please. Please.” An ambulance pulled up next to the fountain and two paramedics rushed over. Sonya looked up. “I think she has a pulse now. She coded about thirty seconds ago.”
“You have medical training?” the first paramedic asked as she dropped beside Sonya.
“Yes. One semester short of being a doctor.”
Brandon shot her a look. He hadn’t known that.
He moved aside as the other paramedic joined them. Sonya fell back out of the way and let them take over. He grasped her arm. More medical help surrounded the other woman. “She’s dead,” Sonya whispered to him. “The bullet went straight through her head.” Grief coated her words. “The one I was helping was shot in the back. Please let her make it, God.” Brandon wondered if she even realized she’d whispered her prayer aloud. He hoped God listened to her more than He seemed to hear Brandon’s prayers.
He watched the officers doing their job and knew Sonya needed to give a statement, but for now, he needed to get her someplace where she could sit and let the adrenaline ebb. He cupped her elbow and started to lead her away. She resisted. “No, I want to watch them.”
Finally, one of the EMTs looked up, caught Sonya’s eye and nodded. They moved the woman to the gurney and slid her in the back of the ambulance. The female paramedic looked back and gave a thumbs-up.
Sonya blew out a breath and leaned back against the bench.
An officer approached them. “Has anyone talked to you two yet?”
“No,” Brandon said. “I heard the shots from my office window across the street and ran over to see if I could help.”
Sonya looked up, then pointed to the hole in the bench. “That’s the bullet that had my name on it.”
* * *
Two hours later, after giving her statement and reliving the nightmare, Sonya was exhausted. Brandon had disappeared about an hour ago to offer his services to the investigation even though she knew he wasn’t officially on the clock.
The officer next to her flicked a glance behind her and she turned to see Brandon approaching. He touched her arm and she shivered. “Are you all finished?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Why don’t we go over to my office so you—we—can decompress?”
She nodded, noticing the sparks his touch set off. In spite of the terrifying situation they’d just lived through, she was still aware of everything about him. From the moment she’d walked into Finding the Lost last week, every time she was in his presence, her attraction meter spiked. So far she’d been able to ignore it, telling herself she didn’t have the time or energy for a relationship.
Especially not with someone she couldn’t read.
Brandon’s green eyes hadn’t revealed anything to her and she hadn’t figured out how to discern his moods or thoughts. That threw her off kilter. Of course, she’d known the man only a week. “Are you finished helping here?”
“For now.”
They walked across the park toward the office buildings. Sonya averted her gaze from the blood still staining the jogging path. “How long will they keep the park closed?”
“Until a crime-scene cleanup crew gets here and removes all traces of the tragedy.”
She nodded, grateful for his easy manner and unhurried gait. “You hear about these kinds of things on the news almost every day, it seems,” she said. “But you never really expect it to happen to you, to find yourself fighting to survive in the midst of something so awful.”
She wondered if the shooter was gone. Or if he’d managed to avoid detection so he could linger and watch. She wondered if he was reveling in the chaos he’d created. A shiver slithered up her spine and she offered up a silent prayer that he’d be found and unable to hurt anyone else.
Brandon put an arm around her shoulders and she looked up, startled. He dropped his arm. “Sorry. You looked like you needed a friend.”
His gruff voice and averted gaze grabbed her. She touched his arm and gave him a smile. “I do need a friend. Thank you.”
He nodded but kept his distance. Regret filled her and she wished she’d just leaned into him and accepted the comfort he’d been offering. She had a feeling he didn’t do that very often.
“How’s the job going?” he asked as he opened the glass door for her.
She stepped inside the cool interior of the lobby. “It’s going fine.” She’d been at Spartanburg Regional for only three weeks.
“And your mother’s house?”
“Coming along.” Her mother had died a month ago. Sonya had moved to South Carolina to settle her mother’s affairs. She took a seat. She understood what he was doing. Talking about nothing to get her mind off the shooting. She wished it would work. “Did you find anything about the birth certificate?”
In the process of cleaning out her mother’s house, she’d come across a box of baby items. Including a birth certificate for a Heather Bradley.
He nodded. “I did. Interesting enough, Heather Bradley, daughter to Don and Ann Bradley, was kidnapped from a church nursery twenty-eight years ago.”
Sonya processed that bit of information and swallowed hard. “Why would my mother have the birth certificate of a kidnapped baby?”
Brandon leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “That’s a very good question. What do you think?”
She reached up and rubbed her forehead, trying to hold the headache at bay. “I don’t know. Maybe she found it. She was a yard-sale junkie and something of a hoarder. What if she bought the box, stashed it and never thought about it again?” It had been known to happen. Hadn’t it?
“It’s possible.” He looked doubtful.
“Are
