man turned to face her. Nina used a hand signal to allow Sam to bark, hoping to distract the man so the girl could run. The dog did his job, his ferocious bark echoing loudly out over the winter woods. Since she didn’t have her weapon, Sam was Nina’s only hope right now in stopping the girl from getting shot. That could give her time to call for help.
The man stared at Nina, giving her a good view of his face in the eerie white light from the moon. He shot at her and just missed, and then pivoted back toward the girl, weapon in hand. Sam kept barking. The man looked panicked, so Nina motioned the rottweiler forward, all the while taking in the assailant’s appearance.
The big dog growled, but stopped when she signaled him. “My dog is trained to attack,” she said. “You should drop that gun now.”
The man shook his head and raised the gun, but Nina signaled Sam again. The animal danced and barked, causing a panicked expression on the man’s face. He started backing away, but in a lightning-fast move, pivoted and took one quick shot at the girl.
She screamed, grabbed at her shoulder and fell into the open pit behind her as the gunman disappeared into the woods.
Sam kept barking, eager for some action.
Nina pulled out her phone and hurriedly called in the crime, describing the scene and her location. “Suspect somewhere in the Iris Rock woods just off the Eastern trail.”
Jumping down into the pit, she breathed a sigh of relief. The girl was still alive, though her pulse was weak. Nina almost sent Sam after the man, but instead ordered him to guard in case the killer came back. Because Nina knew in her gut that he would return. She hoped by then she’d have backup.
She’d need it, and she’d need to pray for protection. He’d left his victim alive, and the girl had seen his face. So had Nina. She and Sam had surprised the man and thrown him off guard long enough to defuse the situation. And because of that, he’d probably come back for all of them.
* * *
US Deputy Marshal Thomas Grant brought his big Chevy pickup to a halt just off the edge of the woods. Something was certainly going on. Several police cars and a few big black SUVs sat caddy-cornered off the narrow road ahead, lights flashing to warn any passersby. Official-looking people milled around, some dressed in black and wearing FBI vests. A couple officers had K-9s with them, sniffing here and there.
He decided to investigate, because his gut told him this was more than a traffic stop or an accident. This looked like an all-out manhunt in progress.
Dressed in civilian clothes as he was, he pulled out his ID as soon as he climbed from the truck, and flashed it at the first officer he came into contact with.
“What are you doing here?” the young patrolman asked with a skeptical tone.
“Looking for a wanted man,” Thomas replied on a droll note. “He could be in these parts.”
The cop nodded and let him through.
Then Thomas spotted her.
A female wearing heavy jogging clothes and a bright purple wool hat hopped up out of a dark, six-foot-long hole in the snow-speckled ground. A big, fierce-looking dog met her and wagged his tail, while she held up her hands to show the crime scene techs what looked like dirt and blood.
Thomas watched as the woman talked to an officer, her hands lifted in the air. Then he glanced to where an ambulance had backed up into the woods. Two EMTs pushed a stretcher carrying a young woman hooked up to an IV toward the waiting bus.
Before he could announce his presence, the jogger glanced over at Thomas and stalked toward him. “May I ask what you’re doing here, Deputy Marshal?”
He took in the light blond hair underneath the wool hat and the big brown eyes full of distrust. He had to look down at her, but she stood straight and didn’t flinch.
He showed her his credentials even though he’d given the officer his name already. “US Deputy Marshal Thomas Grant. I was passing by and saw the ruckus. I’m looking for a man—.”
“Hey, Nina, can you come over here?”
“Hold that thought,” she told Thomas with a puzzled glare, before she turned back to a man wearing an official FBI jacket.
“Coming,” she said, scooting toward where a group of FBI agents gathered by the open earth. They stood in a cluster and talked among themselves, the woman right in the middle.
Thomas waited and listened, two things he was good at. Soon enough, he’d stitched together the details. The cute blonde had been out jogging and had stumbled across a crime in progress. A man holding a gun on a young girl. The jogger must have called it in.
So the young woman was on the way to the ER and the man was long gone. And from the way the blonde was calling out information and discussing details with the K-9 agents, he’d guess she had to be someone official, too. That and the big dog shadowing her summed it up.
She was an FBI agent. And the dog was obviously her K-9 partner. Off duty and on a run, but now on full speed ahead to find the man who’d tried to kill that girl. A girl she’d obviously tried to save, from what he’d seen.
Before Thomas could corner her, someone shouted out, “Nina, we’ve found another body. That makes two.”
“Coming, Tim.” She whirled like a little cyclone and took off.
Thomas’s gut burned even hotter. Two bodies and one girl shot?
Could the man who’d done this be the assassin he’d come to Montana to find?
* * *
Nina did a final sweep of the scene and then turned to leave for headquarters. She needed to file her report and meet with a sketch artist so they could get an image of the shooter to put out to the local media. The team also now had the gruesome task of helping the medical examiner to identify the two female bodies. They’d already sent out the necessary warnings and alerts to be on the lookout, and she’d talked to SAC Max West a few minutes ago to give him an update. The few agents on holiday duty had come through on doing what needed to be done, and the local sheriff’s department was on it, too.
Now if she could factor in why a US Deputy Marshal had suddenly shown up, she might be able to get home and have a good night’s sleep. No, that wouldn’t happen. She’d seen that gunman’s cold black eyes and heard that poor girl screaming. She should probably stay at headquarters and work tonight.
“Okay, Deputy Marshal Grant,” she said, marching up to the tall, big-boned man wearing the suede jacket and worn jeans. “I’m Agent Nina Atkins from the FBI Tactical K-9 Unit in Billings. What’s your interest in this crime scene? Did you just happen to be in the neighborhood?”
He stared her in the face with a calm scrutiny that made her shiver inside her wicking outerwear. “I happen to be here on a case. Looking for a man who could allegedly be a hired assassin, reported to possibly be last seen in Montana, near Billings. The MO mentioned here tonight sounds like his. I’d hoped you could fill me in so we can compare notes.”
Suspicious, Nina gave him a long once-over while she tried to sum him up. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“I
