Nothing moved. Nobody shot at him.
“Maybe he left,” Shane muttered.
That notion helped him decide what to do next. Crouching, he grabbed Jamie’s arm and shook it vigorously. She stirred. Blinked rapidly, as if awaking from a nightmare, then tried to pull away.
“That’s it. Come on, honey. Get it together.”
He rechecked their getaway path. It seemed clear.
“What...what happened?” she murmured.
“You were in shock. Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
With Shane’s help, she managed to rise, although she swayed against him. “Keep your head down.”
“Why? I...”
Her sharp intake of breath told him she was remembering and he saw her begin to stare at the color spattered and smeared on her hands and clothing.
Shane shouted, “Hey!” and gave her a quick shake to jar her. It worked. Her wide gaze met his, and she seemed to understand enough to listen to him when he ordered, “Run!”
Gun in one hand, her fingers grasped tightly in the other, he lunged forward. One pace. Two. Three. Almost there.
He jerked open the truck door and threw her inside, then circled the rear in a crouch and slid behind the wheel, keeping low.
The engine roared. Its tires throwing up rooster tails of dirt, the truck slewed 180 degrees and was engulfed in a cloud of powdery yellow dust.
Shane straightened the wheels. Floored the gas. His hands were welded to the steering wheel. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached. Beads of sweat broke loose and traced his temples.
Jamie started to sit up.
He stopped her with a shout. “Keep your head down.”
“Was Max...? Did he...?”
“Yeah,” Shane shouted. “Max won’t have to worry about being discovered from now on. He’s dead.”
The noises Jamie began to make sounded like a cross between sobs and gagging. He didn’t blame her. If he’d let himself dwell on his last glimpse of the attorney’s face he’d have lost his supper, too.
Crime scene photos were bad, but seeing a victim firsthand was far worse. No wonder his dad had always locked his desk whenever he’d brought those kinds of pictures and evidence home with him. The cruelty and evil Sam saw all around him must have been a terrible burden for any man to bear, particularly a gentle soul like his father.
Yes, a small portion of justice had been meted out tonight. That didn’t make it right. Shane still believed in the judicial system. With the right men at the helm, the guilty would be punished. At least that was the way it was supposed to work.
He grimaced. Right now, he’d be satisfied with mere survival.
FIFTEEN
“Where are we going? What about poor Max?” Jamie was still sniffling but at least Shane had finally allowed her to sit up, brace herself against the tight curves of the mountain road and roll down the window to get some much-needed fresh air.
“To the closest fire station. I hope they’re waiting for a police escort before they respond.”
“What if they’re...? Suppose they...? Oh, dear. They could get hurt!” She knew she was jabbering incomprehensibly. Judging by the way her head was spinning and her thoughts zigzagging all over the place, she figured she’d do well to complete a sentence, let alone a coherent one.
Flashing red and white beacons atop impressive trucks greeted them as Shane wheeled into a wide driveway.
A firefighter, wearing a dirty yellow turnout coat with reflective silver strips and carrying a walkie-talkie type radio, waved him away. “Clear the exit.”
Shane leaned out his truck window. “We just came from the shooting at the campground. I can lead you in.”
“No need. We’ve got it. If you’re a witness you shouldn’t have left.”
“I didn’t want to stick around and become another victim,” Shane told him. “Are the police on scene?”
Jamie could hear a scratchy transmission coming over the radio. Most of the words sounded garbled. “What did he say? Are they there?”
The firefighter nodded. He seemed to be studying both Shane and her. “You follow my first responders. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay.”
Glancing at Shane as he pulled out, Jamie Lynn frowned. “Did he sound funny to you all of a sudden?”
“Yeah. I wonder what else they found when they got to Max. I sure wish we’d had a tape recorder running while we were talking to him.”
“He might not have said a word if we had,” she countered. “At least we know who all was involved in the hit-and-run and which kids were innocent bystanders.”
“We still don’t know for sure who the homicide driver was.”
“No, but we’re making progress.”