Catherine Coulter - Blindside

Miles said to Savich once he’d trotted back, Sean under one arm, “I sure like the sound of your Porsche engine. You get it tuned up recently?”

“Oh yeah. God’s creation gets checked if it hiccups once. Sounds really good, huh?”

“You know it does. Sherlock was telling me that Sean loves that car, that you’ve promised to give it to him when he’s eighteen.”

“Yep, I did.”

“By that time the Porsche will be in a museum.”

Savich grinned. “How about that? Hey, all you’ve got left from McCamy is just a faint line down your cheek. It looks like it just might stay with you.”

Miles touched his face. “A good thing. It’ll fit my image.”

Savich smiled. “How’s Cracker dealing with your marriage?”

“Oh, she’s fine with it. She’s always a brick. No problem at all.”

Savich wondered if Miles really didn’t have a clue as to his sister-in-law’s feelings for him, or if he was just in denial. He sincerely doubted that Cracker was a happy camper with another woman in the house and this one Miles’s wife.

Suddenly, they heard a shot, sharp and clear in the still air, not at all close. It was up ahead, near Katie and Sherlock.

For a brief instant they both froze, then Miles whirled about. “Oh, damn! What’s happening?”

Savich yelled, “Sherlock, Katie, gunfire! Hurry, get down!”

“Savich, get Sean behind that tree! I’ll get the kids!”

There were two more shots in rapid succession, closer to them.

Savich would swear that he felt the heat of that second bullet as it tunneled past his head before he dropped to his knees behind a huge oak tree, Sean clutched against his chest. Sean was crying and his father was shaking so badly he couldn’t do anything except rock his boy, holding him close, trying to cover every bit of him with his body.

He saw Sherlock crouched down behind a square garbage receptacle some thirty feet beyond them, looking all around, waiting. Katie was on her hands and knees, her cell phone out.

He heard a car door slam, but couldn’t see where. He whispered nonsense to Sean, heard his boy sob, felt his small body heave, pressed very tightly against his father’s body.

God, that bastard could have shot his son. He called out, “Miles?”

Miles’s voice was out of breath. “I’ve got Keely and Sam. We’re down, about twelve feet behind you. Is Sean all right?”

“Yes, just scared to his bones, like I am.”

Savich heard voices, lots of them, some screams. Not all that many people in the park, thank God, but enough.

Savich was sitting on the ground, his back against the oak tree, rocking Sean back and forth in his arms, holding him as close as he could.

Not thirty seconds later, Sherlock was in his arms, Sean sandwiched between them, and she was whispering against his chin, “Thank God you’re all right.”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” He sounded all calm again, but he didn’t let her go.

Savich heard Katie say, even as she clutched Keely tightly against her, “Hey, Sam, that was the sort of excitement I’d hoped we’d seen the last of in Jessborough, wasn’t it? Did you dive behind a garbage can?”

“There sure are lots of bad guys, Katie,” said Sam, who was plastered against his father’s side, and blinked at her. He shook his head, “There wasn’t a garbage can close. Papa grabbed up me and Keely. We were over behind that big tree.” He paused a moment, his forehead wrinkled. “Who’s after me this time?”

“Someone who heard you were bad,” Keely said, and, bless her heart, she reached out and punched him.

“Sam, I don’t think anyone was after you this time,” Miles said. “You guys okay? Really?”

“You promise, Papa?” said Sam.

Smiling, Miles picked both of them up, then reached out his hand to Katie. Like Sherlock and Savich, they stood close for a very long time, at least until their hearts slowed.

Katie said, “I called nine-one-one. They’ll be here any minute now.”

Sherlock said, “I spotted a late-model white Camry screech out of here. I got four numbers off the license plate: WT twenty-seven-that’s it.”

Miles and Savich looked at each other. Savich said, “Looks like the women took care of things.”

As for Katie, she needed to get to a bathroom, fast.

N early three hours later Katie and Miles tucked the kids into their beds. It was only seven o’clock at night, but both Sam and Keely had just folded down, an adrenaline crash.

As they walked back down the long corridor to their bedroom, Miles said, “They’re out like lights, thank God. Amazing.”

“Yeah. Keely was gone before I read the first page of her story. She only talked a little bit about the shooting in the park.”

“Same with Sam, thank God. Did you see Sean fall asleep in his father’s arms? A good thing, since Savich wasn’t about to let him go. And the worry in Sherlock’s face, damn, this isn’t good. Why did this happen? For God’s sake, we were in the park with the children.”

“Miles-”

“Dear God, I know the kids seem okay right now, but what about tomorrow, the next day? I think it’s smart to use a real light touch, making it all seem like an adventure, getting the spotlight off Sam. I sure hope it works. Sam didn’t act like he was freaked out again, not like he was in Jessborough. And Keely seemed all right, too.” He shuddered. “Somebody after Savich or Sherlock, I guess.” He began emptying his pants pockets on the dresser top. “Since they weren’t after Sam, it’s just got to shove away at least some of the fear, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I think you’re right. Miles-”

“You know, Katie, I’ve never seen Savich freak like this before. He was white as a sheet and didn’t even want to give Sean over to Sherlock. This asshole trying to shoot him right there in the middle of a park, Jesus, he could have killed Sean. He could have killed any of us, even Sam and Keely.”

“Miles-”

He set his wallet on the dresser, looked over at Katie who was standing by the bathroom door. “Yes?”

“Maybe the asshole wasn’t necessarily just after Savich or Sherlock.”

“What do you mean?”

Katie slowly slid her arms out of her leather jacket, pulled it down, and let it slide to the floor. She lifted up her long gray sweatshirt and he saw the blood covering her upper thigh. “It could be that the asshole was after me.”

He couldn’t take it in, just couldn’t. He stood there like a block of wood, staring at all that blood. Then his breath whooshed out. “Oh Jesus, oh God, you’re hurt.” He was at her side in a moment, his face flushed red, his hands shaking. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t say a single word! I’m getting you to the emergency room. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, that you sat through all the questioning with the cops, and didn’t say a thing. No, just keep quiet and don’t faint on me.”

“I won’t faint. It’s not bad, the bullet just grazed me, on the side of my hip. If you could just help me off with my jeans we could take a look.”

“Shut up. So that’s why you excused yourself to that public bathroom in the park, that’s why you left Keely with me, oh damn.” He came down on his hands and knees in front of her and unzipped her jeans. He eased them down real slow and easy. She’d ripped off the bottom of her sweatshirt and wrapped it around her upper thigh. It was bloody, but not fresh blood, he didn’t think. “I’m not going to undo it, it might start bleeding again.” He got to his feet, helped her pull up her jeans again. “I’ll tell Cracker that we’re leaving the house for a bit. Stay put, Katie.”

While he was gone, Katie took a couple more Tylenol. When Miles got back to her, looked at her white face in the bathroom mirror and saw the Tylenol bottle, he didn’t say a word, just picked her up in his arms and carried her out to the car. “It’s funny how it hurts more now that I’ve told you about it. Isn’t that strange?”