Silent Sabotage. Susan Sleeman

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СКАЧАТЬ man, the one standing here, was filled with rage. His gaze connected with hers. Sharpened for a second, then narrowed into snakelike slits.

      Emily’s heart stuttered and nearly stopped beating.

      “Emily Graves,” he said, cocking his rifle, a sick smile sliding across his mouth. “Imagine finding you here...”

      * * *

      Boom. Boom. Boom.

      Gunshots sounded from inside the mall as Deputy Archer Reed sneaked up on the main entrance. He might be alone, but as the first officer on scene, he had to take action, as it would be quite some time until reinforcements arrived. Twenty or so minutes outside the Portland metro area, deputies were spread thin. Even a rapid response team like his team wouldn’t get there quickly enough. If he hadn’t been driving back to Portland from doing a community outreach event when the active shooter call came over his radio, he wouldn’t be here either. No law enforcement officer would be.

      But he was here and it was up to him and him alone to stop the shooter.

      He muted his radio so it didn’t alert the shooter to his presence, then grabbed his rifle from the trunk of the squad car. Thankfully he’d come off patrol to go straight to the event so he was armed and ready to roll.

      Strapping on his vest and grabbing extra ammo, he raced for the door, offering a prayer for the injured, the potential victims inside and for his ability to apprehend the shooter without loss of life.

      He paused at the doorway to evaluate. The shooting had stopped, people had taken cover and it felt like a desert in the middle of summer. Jet engine–sized fans blew from above, stirring the muggy air. Loud and whiny, they would cover any sound he might make as he eased inside.

      Muffled sounds, perhaps voices, came from a booth on the far side of the space. Archer raised his rifle and moved on the balls of his feet. Silently. Stealthily forward. Keeping to the edge of the booths.

      Nearing the backside of the building, he saw movement in a shop with all-natural products made in Oregon.

      A large man shot across the opening. Archer made him at five-ten, 180 pounds. Dark, ugly eyes. Holding a high-powered semiautomatic rifle in his hands and attired in a combat vest, the pockets holding fresh ammo clips.

      Odd. Most active shooters wanted to die, but the vest, especially one with steel plates like the body armor he’d put on, said something else.

      This guy was here to inflict damage—serious damage—and would not be easily taken out.

      Sirens sounded in the distance. Good. Backup was almost there.

      “I said do it. Now!” the shooter suddenly shouted. “Before the cops arrive.”

      Archer heard a woman respond. He couldn’t make out her words, but she pled with the gunman as if he was holding her hostage.

      A good sign, actually. If the shooter was taking hostages instead of opening fire, Archer could use his skills as a negotiator to talk him down. But first, Archer had to get close enough to evaluate the situation without alerting the gunman to his presence.

      He dropped to the ground. Belly-crawled along the floor sticky with soda until he could see inside the booth. He forced himself to ignore the grime and focus on the action.

      A woman with curly gray hair stood staring into the distance. A younger woman dressed in cutoff jean shorts and a bright yellow T-shirt stood tall in front of the older woman. A slight man wearing a brown shop apron huddled in the corner, his face slack, his mouth hanging open.

      The shooter approached the young woman. Pressed the rifle barrel to her heart.

      “Do as I ask or I’ll shoot you right now.”

      “Delmar, please. I can’t...”

      Delmar. Something about that name rang a bell. Archer couldn’t place it, but the woman knew the shooter’s name.

      Was she involved with him?

      “My aunt.” She turned to point at the older woman. “She’s not well. Alzheimer’s. She’s afraid. Needs me by her side.”

      “Boo-hoo. I don’t care. In front of me. Now!” He ground the rifle deeper into her chest.

      After a lingering look at her aunt, the young woman complied and he clamped his arm around her neck, then backed away from the other people before releasing her. “Don’t move.”

      Archer wanted the chance to use his negotiation skills to end this without loss of life, but right now, the situation still fell under an active shooter scenario and protocol called for an armed intervention.

      He sighted his rifle on the gunman. Held his breath. Focused. No clear shot.

      Weapon still trained on the woman, Delmar reached into a duffel bag sitting on a table and pulled out a bright red vest with pocketed explosives and long wires running from his backpack.

      A suicide vest.

      “Father, no,” Archer whispered and drew in a breath.

      “Put it on, Emily.” Delmar’s mouth split in a twisted smile. “I can think of no one better than you to wear this.”

      Emily. Her name was Emily, and she obviously knew the shooter but was terrified of him, and his piercing glare said he hated her.

      What was going on here?

      Large brown eyes flashing with strength and determination, she slipped her hands through the vest armholes. She stood five-six, and the vest hung to her thighs. The wires trailed along the floor to the backpack connecting her to Delmar.

      Anger choked off Archer’s breath, and he fought to draw in the sweltering air. How dare this shooter come in here, gun down innocent people and terrify this woman. How dare he!

      He wasn’t going to get away with it. Not today. Not on Archer’s watch.

      “Hurry it up. The cops are on the way just like I planned.” Delmar grinned arrogantly. “But be careful. Wouldn’t want to blow you to pieces...yet.”

      So he wanted the cops on scene and seemed as if he wanted to take Emily out, too. Maybe he was one of those guys who couldn’t end his own life, and he needed the police to do it for him. Or...maybe this was designed as an ambush for responding officers.

      Archer rolled to his side and scanned the building. Then to his back and other side, looking for a sniper waiting to kill the first responders. Archer didn’t see anyone, but then if the shooter was a trained killer, Archer wouldn’t see him.

      “Why are you doing this, Delmar? Why me?” Emily’s hand stilled over a Velcro loop and she looked up at Delmar. Her chin rose and her determination doubled when Archer expected her to fall apart or at the very least burst into tears.

      A sardonic smile played on the man’s face. “Why not you?”

      “We once worked well together. Remember all the group meetings where we championed the same issues?”

      Group? СКАЧАТЬ