Tennessee Takedown Page 7

  “Back side of the island, about a hundred yards due west, by the old Cub Scout campground.”

  “You guys go ahead. Miss Parrish and I will catch up in a few minutes. I need to ask her a question.”

  The men filed out and Dillon squatted down beside Ashley. “Can you walk?”

  She nodded and started to push herself up. But the moment she put her weight on her feet, she gasped and fell back.

  Dillon caught her and scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. “That’s what I thought. We’ll get you to a doctor first thing.” He carried her out of the cave and set her down on a boulder near some bushes.

  She glanced up, her eyes questioning. “I thought we were going to a boat.”

  “I figured your bladder might be suffering the same as mine after spending the night sleeping in a cave. And I didn’t think you’d want to bump around in a boat without taking a quick break first. These bushes should offer you some privacy.”

  Her face turned a light shade of pink. “You’re right. Thank you.”

  He bent down at eye level with her. “Do you need me to hold you up? I promise I won’t look.”

  She shook her head back and forth, her face turning a darker shade of red. “No, thank you. I’ll manage, somehow. Just give me a few minutes. Please.”

  “All right. I won’t be far. Call out if you need me.” He watched her hobble over behind the bushes, her face a mask of pain every time she took a step. When he was satisfied she wasn’t going to fall on her face, he hurried off to give her the promised privacy, and to answer nature’s call himself.

  A few minutes later, he found Ashley sitting back on the boulder, her face still flushed a delightful shade of pink.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded, and he scooped her up in his arms again.

  When they reached the boat, Chris gave them a curious glance but didn’t say anything. Dillon set Ashley in the forward seat on the port side, a few feet from Chris’s position at the wheel, while he and Randy took up positions on the benches that ran along the port and starboard sides. Max untied the mooring line from the back of the boat and Chris eased it out into the river.

  Noting Ashley’s curious glance at the fishing poles lying in the middle bottom of the boat, Dillon explained, “Destiny’s residents don’t figure their tiny police force needs a fancy speedboat like some of the bigger cities have. This old fishing boat might not be fast or fancy, but it’s sturdy, and generally suits our needs.”

  “Understandable, but why the fishing poles?”

  Chris half turned and grinned. “Those are mine. I like to be prepared for emergencies.”

  “Is there such thing as a fishing emergency?”

  “Of course. You never know when the fish will be biting.” He turned the boat upriver, the glassy, smooth surface nothing like the roiling, raging death trap from last night.

  “I can see that accountant’s mind whirling now,” Dillon teased. “You’re wondering if Chris compensates the department for use of the boat, and the fuel.”

  “I was doing nothing of the sort.”

  “Sure you were.”

  She narrowed her eyes and turned to face the front as Chris steered the boat around a curve in the river.

  Damage from the storm was far worse than Dillon had expected. White birch and oak trees had given up their fight and lay on their sides in several areas along the bank, broken branches trailing in the water, causing little eddies as the current swirled around them.

  The guttural sound of a powerful engine roaring to life had Dillon whirling around.

  “Look out,” Ashley shouted. She lunged toward Chris and knocked him to the floor of the boat just as a shot rang out. The windshield in front of the pilot’s chair exploded into a spiderweb, right where Chris’s head had been seconds ago.

  He blinked in shock at Ashley.

  “Keep her down,” Dillon ordered. Chris immediately covered Ashley with his body.

  Dillon fired three quick shots at the gunman aiming at them from the speedboat on the other side of the river. It was coming up fast, directly toward them. Baldy was at the wheel. Iceman was beside him, taking potshots at the police boat.

  “Grab the wheel, Randy,” Dillon ordered as he and Max fired several more shots at the speedboat.

  Randy ducked down and made his way around Chris and Ashley to steer the boat.

  The speedboat accelerated.

  Dillon cursed. “Make this thing move! Max, lay down cover fire. I’m going to try to pick off Baldy.”

  Max pulled the trigger, but the gun was empty. He tossed it to the floor. “Chris, gun!”

  Chris tossed his pistol to Max, who caught it and whirled back around, shooting round after round.

  Iceman dove to the floor of the speedboat, leaving the driver vulnerable.

  “Who’s Baldy?” Max yelled.

  Dillon steadied his gun and took one very careful shot. Boom!

  “He’s history,” Dillon gritted out.

  Baldy slumped over the wheel and the speedboat turned hard to the port side, spinning out of control without someone to steer it. His body slid off the seat and the engine choked, then stopped. The boat bounced on its own wake and started drifting on the current.

  “Cease fire,” Dillon ordered. “Randy, bring the boat around. Max, stay alert.”

  Max stayed on his knees, aiming his gun toward the side of the speedboat, waiting for the other shooter to emerge again.

  Dillon glanced at Chris, still covering Ashley. “Both of you okay?”

  Ashley’s wide-eyed gaze peeked out from beneath Chris’s shoulder. She gave Dillon a tentative nod.

  “Thanks to Miss Parrish, I didn’t get my head blown off,” Chris responded, his voice sounding raw.

  Dillon tightened his hold on his gun and focused on the speedboat. Randy shut off the engine and let the fishing boat drift up to the side.

  Max and Dillon aimed their guns into the floor of the boat.

  Empty.

  They glanced at each other in surprise, then both jumped into the boat.

  “Where the heck did he go?” Max asked. He hurried over to the driver’s body and felt his neck for a pulse, then shook his head.

  Dillon stared out over the smooth, dark surface of the river. “My guess, he went into the water and swam to shore.” He looked back at the police boat, a slow, lumbering beast. “Start making calls. Get the state police to put a chopper in the air and get another boat out here. Make sure they know a shooter might be in the woods. They’ll need to stop short of this location and hike the rest of the way in. Have the Blount County coroner meet me at Cooper’s Bluff Bridge, or what’s left of it. And get a BOLO out on our missing shooter.”

  He gave Max a quick, detailed description for the be-on-the-lookout announcement that would go out to every law enforcement agency in the county, from Cades Cove to Rockford, as well as neighboring counties. “Max, put a personal call out to Chief Massey at Bitterwood P.D. over in Ridge County, too. Bitterwood’s small enough and close enough to appeal to a gunman on foot trying to evade police.”

  Max nodded and grabbed his cell phone.

  Dillon hopped back into the police boat. “I’ve got her now,” he told Chris.

  As soon as Chris moved out of the way, Dillon scooped Ashley up again and hurried with her to the speedboat. He set her on the floor. “Lie down. Don’t sit up. Iceman’s still out there.”

  She didn’t answer. She was too busy staring at Baldy lying lifeless a few feet away.

  “Don’t look at him. Close your eyes.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Chris, get over here. You’re coming with us,” Dillon called out.

  Chris was standing with Randy at the wheel of the polic
e boat. He gave Randy a puzzled look then hurried to the speedboat and got in.

  “What are you doing?” Chris asked.

  “Getting the shooter’s main target out of here. Once we get back to the bridge to Cooper’s Bluff, you’ll need to stay with the boat to wait for the coroner to pick up our dead friend here. I’ll drive Miss Parrish back to town to get her medical attention.”

  Max put his cell phone away. “State police are on the way. And Chief Massey offered to send reinforcements if you need them.”

  “Good to know. Thanks, Max. Get back on the other boat. You guys get to shore and hunker down in the woods until the state police get here. If our guy’s got some dry weapons stashed nearby, he’ll start taking shots again. I don’t want you in the middle of the river when he does.”

  Max frowned with obvious disappointment. “We don’t need to wait. If the shooter’s in those woods, Randy and I can find him.”

  “Wait for backup. That’s an order.”

  Max gave him a curt nod and joined Randy.

  Dillon restarted the engine, and turned the speedboat back toward the bridge.

  * * *

  WHEN DILLON CARRIED Ashley into the one-story offices of the Destiny Police Department, it only took a quick turn of her head to get the layout of the entire police station. One unisex bathroom to her left. Fifteen cheap laminate desks lined up in three rows in the middle of the rectangular room. A snack machine and tiny kitchenette on the right beside a door labeled Chief of Police, William Thornton. And along the back wall, two currently unoccupied cells with floor-to-ceiling iron bars.

  Take away the computers and phones, sprinkle in a few cowboy hats, and the place could be the setting of an old TV Western.

  “I’m sure I can walk,” she whispered, feeling silly in his arms as he strode past the handful of police officers working at their desks.

  “Doesn’t mean you should.” When he reached the first jail cell, he hooked one of the nearby desk chairs with his foot and dragged it over, then carefully set Ashley on the chair. “Give me a sec.”

  He crossed to a small cabinet built into the wall and unlocked it, then pulled out a big brass key.

  Ashley watched in stunned amazement as he used the key to unlock the first cell and swung the door open.

  He caught her watching him and raised a brow. “What?”

  “You do realize what century we’re in, right? You don’t have electronic locks on the cells?”

  He smiled and tossed the key in the air, easily catching it. “The city council wouldn’t approve more than a cheap, used fishing boat for the police department. Do you really think they’d approve an expensive electronic locking system for our jail?”

  She shrugged and eyed the cell. “Please tell me you’re not thinking about locking me in there.”

  “You need to be protected. Makes sense to lock you up, don’t you think?”

  “I’m going home.” She shot up out of her chair but immediately fell back to sitting when pain shot through her feet.

  Dillon crouched down in front of her and took her hand in his. “That was a really bad joke. I promise I’m not going to lock you up. However, the cot in the cell is the most comfortable place with your feet the way they are. I figured you could lie down and elevate your feet while I call Doc Brookes. He still makes house calls and the nearest hospital is a long drive from here.”

  She bit her lip in indecision. “Promise you won’t lock the door?”

  He crossed his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

  “All right then. Putting my feet up does sound good. I guess you get to carry me one more time.”

  He squeezed her hand and let go. “Trust me. Carrying you is not a burden.”

  He scooped her up before she could think too hard about that comment. She couldn’t imagine he’d meant it the way it sounded, as if he was flirting with her. Because after being in a rainstorm, spending all night in a cave and wearing the same muddy, dirty clothes without being able to even wash her face, there was nothing about her that could be even remotely attractive.

  He propped her feet up on a pillow and pulled a blanket over her. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Wait, please. Do you have a phone I can use? You said Lauren called nine-one-one last night because she was worried about me. I need to let her know I’m okay. Preferably before she calls my family and gets them worried and they descend en masse on Destiny and get all in my business.”

  He grinned. “Big, nosy family, huh?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “My phone is at the bottom of the river somewhere, but I’ll get you one. Give me a minute.”

  While he headed over to a young policewoman sitting at a desk by the window, Ashley self-consciously finger combed her hair. Dillon perched on the edge of the desk and several officers came over to talk to him. Even without a shirt, wearing nothing but his bullet-resistant vest, wrinkled dress pants and boots, he still looked amazing. Ashley was suddenly longing for a hot shower, some fresh clothes and her makeup bag.

  If Lauren could see her now, she’d accuse Ashley of being in lust with Dillon, and she would probably be right. She had a lot of other things she should be worrying about instead of drooling over the tall, dark and handsome man who’d been a part of her life for less than twenty-four hours. In all likelihood, once her feet were finally taken care of, he’d probably take her statement and send her on her way. She’d likely never see him again, unless he caught a suspect and needed her to testify or something. One thing was for sure, as soon as she could she was leaving Destiny way behind in her rearview mirror, never to pass this way again.

  No matter how sexy Detective Dillon Gray was.

  Dillon brought a cell phone and let Ashley make a quick call, reassuring her friend everything was okay. As usual, Lauren’s melodramatic streak made the call take much longer than Ashley wanted, particularly when Dillon was waiting. But at least Lauren hadn’t called her family yet, and Ashley was again able to talk her out of cutting her cruise short. She hung up and gave the phone back to Dillon.

  “Thank you.”

  “Disaster averted?” he teased.

  “Just barely.”

  He motioned back toward the squad room. The policewoman he’d spoken to earlier headed over. At the same time, the main door opened on the far end of the room and Detective Chris Downing stepped inside.

  “Ashley Parrish,” Dillon said when the policewoman stepped into the cell, “this is Officer Donna Waters.”

  “Pleasure,” Donna said, shaking Ashley’s hand.

  “Donna’s going to go to your house and pack you a bag so you can change into fresh clothes. I’ll leave you two here to discuss what you need. I’m still trying to locate Doc Brookes.”

  He headed back to one of the desks and grabbed the phone. Chris stopped beside him and spoke to him while Dillon dialed the number.

  “So,” Donna said, drawing Ashley’s attention to her. “Looks like you’re going to be our prisoner until we catch whoever’s after you.”

  Ashley blinked in surprise. “Dillon... I mean, Detective Gray said he wasn’t going to lock me up in here. Scout’s honor.”

  Donna burst out laughing. “Dillon was never a scout. Trust me on that. Honestly, I assumed he was going to keep you here for your own protection. Maybe he’s got other plans.” She pulled a small notebook and pen from her front shirt pocket. “Now, tell me exactly what you want from your house and I’ll be happy to get it. I’ve already got the address. Since I don’t see a purse with you, I’m assuming you don’t have your keys. Is there a spare somewhere?”

  “My landlord has a key. He lives a few miles down from my house, Mr. Hartley.”

  “I know him. No problem. I’ll stop there first. Now, worst case, assuming you may not be able to go home for a few da
ys, what all do you need?”

  * * *

  DILLON HUNG UP the phone and shot Chris an irritated glance. “Doc Brookes isn’t answering his cell. His assistant said he’s probably out of range, up in the foothills seeing some patient. And from what Donna told me a few minutes ago, there are trees and power lines down all over Destiny. It’ll take hours to get her to a hospital.”

  Chris grinned. “No reason she should wait.” He clapped Dillon on the shoulder. “Not when we’ve got our own doctor.” He headed toward the cell.

  “Chris, get your butt back here,” Dillon ordered, but Chris ignored him and hurried into the cell.

  Dillon chased after him, hoping to head off a disaster.

  “Miss Parrish, good to see you again,” Chris said. “Looks like with the storm and all, we’re down to only one doctor anywhere nearby who can take care of you.”

  Dillon strode into the cell and aimed a murderous glare at Chris.

  “And here he is,” Chris announced, waving toward Dillon.

  Donna coughed as if she was trying not to laugh.

  Ashley stared up at Dillon, her eyes wide with surprise. “You’re a doctor?”

  “No,” Dillon said.

  “Yes,” Donna and Chris both said at the same time.

  “Knock it off,” Dillon ordered. “Miss Parrish, I did go to medical school, but not the kind of—”

  “I’ll get your bag,” Chris announced. “I assume it’s in the Jeep? You never go anywhere without it.” He hurried out of the cell, steering well clear of Dillon’s reach.

  “Now everything makes sense,” Ashley said. “You seemed to know what you were doing when you wrapped my cuts last night.”

  He closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

  Donna laughed. “He’s definitely good at doctoring. Did his schooling in Nashville.”

  He opened his eyes again and glared at her, not that it did any good.

  “Really?” Ashley asked. “That’s where I’m from. Did you go to TSU? I graduated from there.”