of light from the abandoned spot had illuminated the attacker’s path out of the tunnel but nothing about his identity. Definitely a man, a slender, wiry one, but otherwise Ray had seen only shadows among the flashing dots in his eyes.
He pressed his left hand against his wound and took two deep breaths, holding each for several seconds before releasing them slowly. His right hand still held his pistol in a crushing grip, but both hands now shook furiously. Adrenaline seared through him, and anger that he had not been able to follow the intruder made his stomach roil. But blinded, deafened by gunshots and bleeding, Ray knew he’d be more of a target than aggressor. He tried to radio Daniel, but the signal wouldn’t penetrate the earth and wood overhead.
Ray squeezed his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the blue and white sparks to dissipate and his ears to clear. As they did, he could hear the frantic thuds of shoes on the narrow ladder leading from the parsonage’s second floor. Hidden behind a sliding panel in one of the hallway closets, the solid wooden ladder had been built into one side of a thin shaft between the walls, exiting into the tunnel through the home’s foundation.
One by one, five of his officers cleared the ladder and rushed in his direction, led by Daniel Rivers. The streams of gold from their flashlights bounced around the tunnel like out-of-control basketballs. “Slow down!” Ray commanded.
Daniel reached him first, shining his light on Ray’s head. “What happened?” he asked, digging a handkerchief out of his pocket. He peeled Ray’s hand away from the wound and pressed the cloth tightly against it.
Ray filled them in, then instructed Gage and the others to continue the search down the tunnel. He pointed at the big handheld spot, which still shined its penetrating light down the tunnel. “Use gloves. Take that with you. He’s long gone now, but go slow. Look for any sign that I hit the guy.”
As they moved away and the light dimmed, Ray took the cloth from Daniel, folded it into a neater square and pressed it to his head again. Daniel watched his boss’s face a moment, then said quietly, “What are you thinking?”
Ray holstered his gun, then pushed himself to his feet with his free hand. Daniel steadied his off-balance sheriff with a hand on one arm.
Ray nodded his thanks, then checked the handkerchief to see if his bleeding had stopped. His head still throbbed from the blow, and he squinted from the pain. His mind, however, spun furiously with his recall of the past few minutes.
Demonstrating his attacker’s actions, he held his right hand at shoulder level. “He held the light here, out to the side and pointed down. If I hadn’t ducked, the shots would have hit me square in the chest. A fraction more to the right, and this one would have knocked me out, at the very least. I don’t think he expected me to survive, much less return fire. I fired to the left of the light and hit nothing. When I fired right at it, he dropped it and ran, probably realizing that the shots would bring you guys running.”
“So you think he’s a pro?”
“Or a former cop. At least he’s someone who’s pretty good at his job. And there’s a good chance he’s left-handed.”
Daniel nodded. “The knife entered the right side of David’s body, low, an upward thrust.”
Ray pressed his fingers to his skull again, and they came away only slightly sticky. “That’s a combat move. Misses the ribs and goes straight to the heart.”
“But to complete that move, wouldn’t he have twisted the knife and pulled it back out? Why didn’t he take the knife?”
Ray shook his head. “I thought about that. Not sure. But I bet we don’t find any prints.” He gestured down the tunnel. “My guess is that’s our killer.”
“So David lets him in—or maybe them—in the back door because he knows them. They kill him, but then they hear June drive up. You know that old Corvette of hers needs a new muffler.”
“And a transmission.”
Ray went on, his words picking up speed. “One takes off across the yard, while the other one heads down here, giving himself more time to get away. If a pro had to run, he may have not wanted to take a chance of getting caught with the knife.”
“So you’re convinced this wasn’t a botched robbery or home invasion.”
Ray shook his head. “Whoever it was came specifically to kill David Gallagher.”
“He just didn’t expect June to show up.”
Ray nodded. “She made him get sloppy.” He paused. “You did send someone to the other end of the tunnel?”
“The minute we heard the shots. June told us the tunnel came out at the spring house. I sent the rest of the crew there. Carter was already out in the crowd out front, so I put him on point.”
Ray scowled. “Who’s watching June? She’s still officially a suspect.”
Daniel glanced down, his lips twitching slightly. “The coroner was there, but I…uh…I handcuffed her to the kitchen cabinet in case the coroner needed to leave.”
Ray’s eyebrows arched as an image of exactly how well that idea must have gone over flashed through his mind. “I’m glad you’re the one married to her sister.”
“Well…”
“Well, what?”
“The handcuffs weren’t just to keep her away from the evidence. They were to keep her from coming down here. She heard the shots and took off for that ladder. I almost had to tackle her to keep her out of here.”
Ray stared at his young deputy. His racing thoughts stalled for the first time as conflicting emotions and images swirled through his head and heart. June, his suspect—his lovely, brown-haired, blue-eyed suspect—had stood terrified and trembling over David’s body. Yet when gunshots rang out, her instinct had been to run toward him…and into potential danger. What is going on with her?
Ray wrestled his thoughts about June aside, his mouth tightening into a thin line. “Let’s go upstairs and soothe the ruffled feathers.”
“You need a doctor for that wound.”
Ray turned and headed toward the ladder. “I’m not dying. First things first. Let’s clear the crime scene, then I’ll go over and have them stitch this up.”
They headed upstairs to find that the kitchen held only the coroner and her assistant. A pair of handcuffs dangled from one cabinet’s door handle. Ray glared at Daniel, who said weakly, “We have her car blocked in. She couldn’t have gone very far.”
“June!” Ray bellowed suddenly, almost amused at how Daniel jumped.
“What?”
The quiet question came from behind them, and they turned to see June, wiping her hands on a small towel.
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “How did you—”
“Why are you bleeding?” June stared at the side of his head. “Did you get shot?”
“I’m fine. Answer my question.”
“You’re not fine.
