Cold Pursuit - Carla Neggers [110]
“We’re getting shot at.” Jo shoved the backpacks toward them. Devin stirred, white-faced as he caught the strap of Nora’s pack and pushed it at her. “Use the packs for cover. Stay behind the woodstove. Understood?”
Devin barely reacted, the pain of his injuries evident in every breath he took. Nora nodded, recoiling as a third round hit the same window, and the report of the heavy-caliber weapon boomed and echoed on their quiet hillside.
Elijah pulled the slide on his .45. He’d already raced to the front of the cabin and was positioned in the corner by the shot-out window.
He aimed and fired one round.
Crouched down, Jo ran to him, ignoring the glass shards as Elijah fired again.
Two more shots in quick succession smacked into the sturdy wood door.
Jo knew she didn’t need to tell Elijah it was a heavy-caliber weapon firing at them: an assault rifle. And she didn’t have to tell him it was Kyle Rigby.
He probably had a thirty-round clip. A lot of bullets.
When he used them up, he’d reload.
“He’s using the trees my father cut down as cover. Right by the spruce trees.” Elijah didn’t take his eyes off the spot. “I’m going after him.”
“I’ll keep him from moving,” Jo said. “He wants us all dead, Elijah.”
“I can tell from the bullets.” He looked at her, his gaze steady. “We’re past negotiations, Jo.”
“Yeah. Go.” Her breath caught. “Stay safe.”
He winked at her. “Be good, sweet pea.”
Moving fast, he crossed to the back of the cabin. Snow blew in as he went out the back door, shutting it silently behind him.
Nora and Devin stayed quiet and still behind the woodstove, huddled among the backpacks, as protected as possible with a madman shooting at them.
Not a madman, Jo thought. Rigby had examined his options and picked the one he’d considered most likely to get the job done. He knew what he was up against. He’d counted on Nora and Devin freezing to death up here, and when he’d realized that wasn’t going to happen, he’d come up with a new plan.
The all-or-nothing approach.
She fired toward the fallen trees before he could get off another shot, ducked low and fired again from another angle. She wanted to provide cover fire and keep Rigby pinned down and guessing. He was aware he was dealing with two shooters. Let him think both she and Elijah were still in the cabin.
“Rigby, I know it’s you out there,” she yelled. “Let’s talk.”
“No talking. You’re all dead.”
“Let’s figure something out.” She moved to another spot on the window and fired again. “You’re not in a good situation. I’m armed, I’ve got food and water and I’m warm. Bet you’re frostbitten.”
Another shot.
Not frostbitten enough not to be able to shoot.
Then she heard three quick shots of a .45.
Elijah.
She waited, poised to shoot again if necessary.
But there was silence. Finally Elijah called to her. “He’s down, Jo. No sign of another shooter.”
She turned to Nora and Devin, who still hadn’t moved. “I have to go out there. I’ll be back in two minutes. Stay put.”
She raced out the front door and into the snow, wet and deep as it sparkled in the bright rising sun. She pushed through the tiny clearing in front of the cabin and slowed her pace as she ducked behind the felled trees and entered the spruce grove.
Elijah had picked up Rigby’s assault rifle—not that there was any chance Rigby would be able to use it. But it was what Jo would have done.
She knew Elijah had checked Rigby but she felt compelled to do so herself. He was dead.
“I’m sure you gave him a chance to put down his weapon,” she said.
“Ten chances.”
Rigby had fired ten rounds.
“Don’t touch anything. The police need to get here.”
There was just a hint of humor in his very blue eyes. “Sure, Jo.”
She heard a cry of pure anguish up by the cabin and turned just as Nora leaped out the front door into the snow and ran, tearing off back toward the gully where Elijah had found her.
Jo went after her, post-holing her way through the deep snow. “Nora, stop,” she called sharply. “You don’t have the energy or the equipment to go far.