Chapter 11

“Dee!” she cried, the word scraping against her throat. Before she could do anything other than lie there, stunned, Theo was running back toward her, carrying Dee with an arm around her middle. His other hand clutched Viggy’s leash, holding the dog tight to his side. He used his body as a shield between Dee and the shooter. “Inside! Go!”

His commanding tone had Jules scrambling to her feet even before her brain processed the words. Theo fell in behind her, urging her forward with the fist clutching Viggy’s lead pressing against her back. Although she knew she was running, moving as fast as she could go toward the door, Jules’s legs felt so, so slow—nightmare slow. Her breath caught in her chest as she sprinted toward the school entrance, trusting that Theo would be right behind her, keeping Dee safe.

Hugh slammed through the doors, gun drawn but held low. “Get inside!” he bellowed, his usual good-natured expression sharp and focused. He ran, slightly crouched, toward the stone school sign. Taking cover behind the monument, he scanned the area behind them, squinting against the bright sun.

The entrance grew closer, although it still seemed agonizingly far away. Her breaths clawed their way out of her throat in rough heaves, and Jules couldn’t stop her brain from picturing a bullet tearing through Theo’s broad yet vulnerable back and into Dee—sweet, lovable Dee. Even though she knew, she knew that Theo was wearing a bulletproof vest, the image kept running itself through her frantic brain.

They were only five strides away from the entrance, then four, then three. Hope began to trickle into Jules, even as each gasp for air caught in her lungs like a sob. They were so close. Dee would be all right. She had to be all right. Jules repeated in her mind like a mantra, Dee will be safe. Dee will be safe. Dee will be safe.

Just two steps away now. Jules reached for the door handle, ready to jerk it open, when the glass panel next to the entrance exploded into an opaque cobweb of shattered glass, the safety film the only thing keeping it from spraying them with fragments. Jules automatically jerked away, her back bumping into Dee and Theo.

“Shots fired at the high school,” Hugh’s voice barked from Theo’s radio.

“Inside!” Theo snapped, drowning out a rush of tense radio transmissions. He used his body to propel her forward again. Her hand shook as she fumbled for the handle, jamming her knuckles against it before she managed to grip the metal. Her fingers felt thick, clumsy, as she closed them around the handle and jerked open the door. There was barely enough room for her to fit through the opening before he was shoving her into the entry.

“Take them,” Theo ordered, shoving the end of Viggy’s lead and Dee toward her. Jules automatically grabbed both the dog and the girl. “Go! Get away from the door.” Turning, he reached toward his holster as he sprinted back outside.

Clutching Dee and Viggy’s leash, Jules watched Theo run back into the line of fire. He’d saved them. And it might be the last time she’d see him alive.

* * *

Slightly crouched, Theo ran, his gun up and ready as he scanned for the shooter. He’d never thought Monroe would have a school shooting. They’d trained for an active-shooter situation, but it had seemed like such a remote possibility. An attack like this was something that happened elsewhere, somewhere they didn’t know every kid and parent at least by name.

He rushed toward Hugh. The six-foot-high stone slab bearing the words Monroe High School was the best cover in the area, providing both concealment and fairly good protection from the bullets. Theo just had to cover an open stretch of ground in clear view of the shooter to get there.

Gunshots rang out, so distinctive yet so foreign here, at what should have been a peaceful place. A dart of pain sliced his forearm, and he went faster even before his brain processed that a bullet had grazed him. The sound of gunfire was louder, and the section of his brain that had gone on autopilot—hours and hours and hours of training kicking in and directing his actions—told him Hugh was returning fire, attempting to give Theo the few seconds he needed to reach cover.

It felt as if he were miles away, but suddenly he was there, next to Hugh, and he had to slam on the brakes so he didn’t run full tilt into the stone. Panting, more from adrenaline than from exertion, Theo crouched behind the sign.

“Shooter’s position?” Theo asked as his breathing steadied.

“No fucking clue.” Dropping his magazine, Hugh reloaded his Glock. “Second floor of Tornado Block, maybe?”

“Not the second.” Theo brought up a mental image of the dilapidated apartment building that looked like it was a strong wind away from collapsing completely—hence the nickname. “No openable windows on this side. Unless he’s on the roof. Or behind the dumpsters at the southeast corner.”

“Angle’s wrong for him to be ground level.” Hugh shifted slightly, which was the equivalent of a jiggling knee for most people. The man knew how to be still.

“Roof then.” Theo’s gaze scanned the area, as much as he could see with the stone barrier blocking his view to the north. A flicker of movement behind the school doors caught his attention. Jules and Dee had run through those doors. Panic darted through his gut at the thought that they might be coming back through them.

Hugh’s grunt was affirmative.

“What’s the… Shit.” One of the doors swung open, and someone charged outside. It was Jules’s oldest brother—Sam. The teenager’s gaze darted around, his face drawn with fear. Theo’s muscles tightened as he crouched, ready to run out to get Sam to safety. A bullet struck the corner of the sign they hid behind, and Theo ducked automatically. Hugh was going to have to give him some cover so Theo didn’t get picked off the second he took a step toward Sam.

“What’s the shit?”

Shit, shit, shit! “Check it out. At your four.” The person had quit firing, and Theo risked a glance toward Tornado Block, ready to sprint into the open.

“Shit!” Hugh echoed Theo’s thoughts. “Cover me.” Then he was running toward Sam.

The voice in his head had changed to fuck, fuck, fuck! “Hugh, you asshole,” Theo hissed even as he crouched, getting into position. Leaning out just far enough to see Tornado Block, Theo scanned for any movement, any sign of the gunman, while mentally swearing at Hugh. Theo was the one who should’ve gone to get the boy to safety. It would’ve been easier to run across that open space than to watch his partner do it. If anything happened to Hugh… Theo had to cut off that line of thinking before it completely destroyed his focus.

The seconds ticked past, horribly slowly. Theo kept his gaze and his weapon aimed at the top of Tornado Block. The mechanical equipment scattered over the flat roof offered too many hiding places. He paused, catching the slightest flash of light reflecting off metal. Was that the shooter? He stared at the spot until his vision blurred.

At the sound of swearing, Theo risked a quick glance toward his partner. Although Hugh had reached Sam, the teen shied out of his reach.

“They’re inside!” Hugh yelled, giving Sam a push toward the front entrance. His words must have convinced Sam, because he started running in that direction. Hugh followed, trying to provide some cover for the kid.

The snap of a gun caught Theo’s attention, and he immediately began returning fire. He aimed where he’d seen the reflected light and pulled the trigger. There was a slight movement on the other side of the rooftop condensing unit, and Theo lined up his sights on the new spot before shooting again.

A quick glance showed that Sam had reached the entrance and was ducking through the door. The glass above him shattered as a bullet connected with the pane. Theo expected Hugh to follow the boy inside, but he didn’t. Instead, Hugh turned and ran back toward Theo.

“Hugh, you dumbass!” Theo hissed as he pulled the trigger again and again, trying to provide whatever cover he could for his partner—his partner who should’ve stayed in the safety of the school rather than risk returning to Theo.

In his peripheral vision, Theo could see Hugh getting closer, could hear his rough breathing and running steps hitting the ground. Theo’s attention was focused on the shooter, however, and he pulled out another magazine from the holder on his belt and did a tactical reload. It took barely three seconds before Theo was shooting again.

Just a few steps away, Hugh gave a startled grunt. Theo turned and saw his partner fall, a surprised expression on his face. It felt like all the air had been punched out of Theo’s lungs—as if the bullet had slammed into him, right along with Hugh.

Without thinking, before he could even regain his breath, Theo was there. Jamming his pistol back in its holster, Theo grabbed fistfuls of Hugh’s uniform shirt and pulled. The heavy form didn’t want to budge, but it finally, grudgingly, started sliding across the grass.

Theo took one backward step and then a second, dragging his partner toward the safety of the sign. A bullet hit the ground just inches from Theo’s foot, debris showering his pant leg. Another clipped the sign, digging a chunk from the stone.

There was a tearing sound as a seam in Hugh’s shirt gave way, and Theo shifted his grip, hooking his hands under Hugh’s arms instead. Hugh was using his right leg to help, pushing it against the ground. Another bullet hit the ground close—too close—to Hugh’s leg, and Theo took several rushing steps back, not stopping until all of Hugh was behind the sign.

Dropping Hugh’s shoulders, Theo scanned his partner’s sprawled shape, looking for where the bullet had hit. It didn’t take long to find. The navy material over his thigh was soaked with blood, and a small hole punctured the center. Theo pulled out his pocketknife and lifted the wet fabric away from Hugh’s skin before slicing through his uniform pants, cutting and ripping until the wound was exposed through the enlarged hole.

Blood flowed from the wound, and Theo felt a familiar pressure in his chest that stopped him from breathing. He pressed a hand firmly against Hugh’s thigh as he grabbed his portable radio from his belt.

“Officer down!” There was too much blood. It leaked out around Theo’s palm as his other hand fumbled to manage his radio with fingers that felt clumsy and thick. Had the bullet struck the femoral artery? Jesus. He prayed it hadn’t.

“Copy, officer down.” There was the slightest of quavers underneath the dispatcher’s calm tone, and his words came a little too quickly. “Unit number?”

“Fifty-six seventy-four.” Theo’s thumb, slippery from blood and sweat, slid off the “talk” button, cutting him off in the middle of his transmission. “Goddammit!”

He adjusted his fingers around the radio, unintentionally pressing down harder on the wound with his other hand. Hugh groaned, and Theo immediately lightened the pressure. “Sorry, buddy.” He’d pulled back too much, though, and a gush of blood poured from the wound. His teeth clenched so tightly that his molars squeaked together, Theo pushed his palm hard against Hugh’s leg again, forcing himself to ignore his partner’s yelp of pain.

Turning back to the radio, he repeated his unit number before saying, “Fifty-six thirty-three has been shot in the thigh. He’s bleeding heavily and needs Medical.”

“Copy.”

“Negative.” Lieutenant Blessard’s sharp voice broke in before the dispatcher could say anything further. “Med’s staging until we get word from the Emergency Response Unit that the scene is secure.”

Glancing down at the blood coating everything—way too much blood—Theo swallowed a growl. The shooter had been silent since Hugh’d gone down with a startled grunt. The stone sign offered some cover, but it also blocked Theo’s view of anything except a chalk-white-and-blood-red Hugh. “Negative on that negative. He needs Med here now.”

“We’re not sending medics in to get shot at, Bosco.” Blessard dropped all attempts at radio etiquette. “Keep pressure on the wound, and I’ll kick some ERU ass into high gear. They’ll send out the Beast for you. We need to secure the scene before anyone else can get out there.”

Clenching his teeth to hold back a profanity-heavy retort, Theo gripped the portable so tightly his fingers turned white.

“It’s okay, Theo.” Hugh’s voice was rough and breathy and didn’t even sound like him. “They’re moving as fast as they can.” He paused to suck a breath in through his teeth. “LT’s right.”

“Fuck that.”

“Bosco!” Blessard growled, but Theo had already reclipped the portable to his belt. He’d need both hands for this. “Bosco!”

“Dude.” Hugh gave a gasping laugh as his eyes started to close. “You’re in so much trouble.”

“Wake up!” Theo barked. “C’mon, you lazy ass. I need you to do some of the work.”

Although Hugh forced his eyes to open with obvious effort, he was so pale there was a green undertone to his tan skin. “What…are you…talking about? You’re the…lazy one.”

“Give me your hand.” Theo was almost snarling by this point. He’d lost so much this past year. He knew, just knew, that he couldn’t survive losing Hugh. If Theo let another partner die, that would be the end of him. “Hugh, you fucking asshole! Give me your goddamned hand!”

There was a pause, just a single second of stillness, but long enough to make Theo’s heart stop.

“Such language.” Hugh tsked, his voice weak but present, the hint of a teasing smile on his face. He slowly raised a visibly shaking arm.

Relief flooded Theo, making his heart thud with such force it felt like it was pounding against his rib cage. He grabbed Hugh’s hand and positioned it over his own where he was futilely trying to stanch the bleeding. “Press here. Hard as you can. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Theo slid his hand free and pushed Hugh’s palm against the gushing hole. He didn’t think it was possible for Hugh to blanch any paler, but somehow he managed it. Theo hardened his heart against the grimace on his partner’s face. “Harder. Don’t be a baby.”

That got a pained chuckle, but Hugh’s shaking hand obediently pushed more firmly against his leg. After a final glance at Hugh’s face to determine exactly how close he was to passing out, Theo yanked his uniform shirt over his head. Without bothering to remove his badge or nametag or even the pen in his chest pocket, Theo hurriedly folded the shirt into a rough bandage and wrapped it around Hugh’s thigh.

“Move your hand,” he ordered, and Hugh did, his arm dropping like a dead weight to his side. Theo pulled the shirt tight and then tied it on the side of Hugh’s leg. The improvised bandage immediately became stained with blood. “Think you can run with help?”

There was no answer, except for the continuous chatter on the radio. Glancing at Hugh’s face, Theo saw his partner’s eyes were closed and his head lolled to the side, looking so lifeless that Theo’s stomach twisted hard.

“No,” he said, although no sound emerged. It felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. Shaking off his terror that Hugh wasn’t just unconscious, Theo gritted his teeth and rolled his partner onto his stomach. Kneeling by his head, Theo hooked his arms under Hugh’s and stood, grunting with the effort.

“You’re a big bastard,” Theo muttered, his voice gritty with effort. All that bulk was dead weight, too, making him feel even heavier.

Theo winced at the term “dead.”

“Knock it off,” he muttered as he bent, taking Hugh over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. As he straightened, Theo took a second to steady his burden before blowing out a hard breath.

“Ready, buddy?” Hugh didn’t answer. “Me, neither.” Despite that, Theo stepped out from behind the safety of the sign.

He couldn’t run, not while wearing his two-hundred-plus-pound partner like a cape, but he moved as fast as he could. Each step felt exposed, every foot he covered in the seemingly endless space between him and the cluster of emergency vehicles made him want to duck back behind their stone cover. Why had he thought this would be a good idea?

Theo wasn’t worried about his own unprotected parts. It was Hugh. His partner’s vest seemed too small and useless. Sure, it covered some vital organs, but what about his head or his neck or that femoral artery Theo worried was already nicked?

He expected the lieutenant to be screeching at him, but his portable had gone silent. Blessard had probably ordered the radio silence, so as not to draw the shooter’s attention. There were no shouts coming from the first-responders’ camp, either—just an expectant, waiting silence.

His boots hitting the ground sounded too loud, as did each breath as it tore in and out of his lungs. The space between them and the police staging area was still too far—hopelessly far.

Clenching his jaw and tightening his grip on Hugh’s limp form, Theo kept moving, one step after the other, braced for the bullet that would bring him down, or worse, hit Hugh, ending Theo just as surely.

The thought pushed him to move faster, despite the unconscious man weighing him down. His feet shuffled forward in an attempt at a run. The vehicles were getting closer, near enough to see Otto’s distinctive form running toward them. Other cops grabbed at him, but he shook them off like they were pesky mosquitoes and kept running.

Stay back, Otto! Theo shouted in his head, but he didn’t have the breath for anything except taking one step at a time. He tried to hurry, tried to get Hugh to safety before Otto could get hurt as well, but his body would not obey, would not go any faster, and they were still much too exposed when Otto reached them.

Otto was a monster of a man—four inches taller than Theo’s six feet and with an extra fifty pounds of muscle. Between the two of them, they quickly shifted Hugh so his arms were over their shoulders, his weight divided between them. With enormous relief, Theo realized he could run that way, and he picked up speed. The staging area grew closer and closer, and a faint tendril of hope worked its way through Theo’s dread.

Theo felt the punch to his ribs before he heard the shot. He lurched sideways, only Otto and Theo’s grip on Hugh keeping him from falling. Otto visibly braced, supporting all three of them for a moment until Theo regained his balance.

“I’m fine,” Theo barked in answer to Otto’s concerned look. “Let’s go!”

They resumed their dash to safety, but every breath sent fire through Theo’s side. The distance between them and the staging area suddenly looked impossibly huge. His toe caught, making him stumble, and agony shot from his side through his whole body.

“You good?” Otto asked.

“Fine.” The word was a grunt. Theo needed all his air, all his energy, everything he had inside of him to keep going without dropping Hugh’s dead weight. No, he thought fiercely. Not dead. He had to believe Hugh would live, or Theo wouldn’t be able to make it.

“Stay with me, Theo,” Otto said.

Digging for his last reserves of strength, Theo plowed forward. The gap between them and safety narrowed with each painful, dragging step, and then they were surrounded, helping hands reaching for them, taking Hugh away, tugging on Theo’s arm in an attempt to get him to sit down.

Theo shook off the EMTs. “Help Hugh. I’m fine.”

“I’m concerned with how you’re breathing,” Claire, a serious-faced EMT in her forties told him.

“Bosco!” Lieutenant Blessard snapped, elbowing through the surrounding crowd. Theo braced himself for a lecture about ignoring orders and dragging Hugh into danger. “Sit your ass down and let them check you out.”

Surprised into compliance, Theo sat on the back bumper of a fire rescue truck. When an EMT—this one a redhead named Scott—reached toward the front of his vest, scissors in one hand, Theo waved him off and pulled at the Velcro fastenings, holding back a frustrated sound when his fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. “How’s Hugh?”

“Alive.” Although the LT’s tone was as gruff as always, the pat he gave Theo’s shoulder was almost gentle. An ambulance siren started to wail, making Theo jump and then wince as pain shot through his chest. Claire and the lieutenant exchanged a concerned look, and Theo held back an annoyed snarl, mentally cursing himself for showing his discomfort.

“That him?” Theo asked when the ambulance had gotten far enough away that the siren wasn’t deafening anymore. Frustrated by his fumbling fingers, he yanked at the vest, but all he achieved was an agonizing jolt through his ribs.

The lieutenant made an affirmative sound as he reached to help remove Theo’s protective vest. Theo started to protest, but swallowed his words as another shock of pain made all his muscles tighten. He wanted to skip the exam and go right to the get-to-the-hospital part, so he could find out the latest on Hugh’s condition.

“Where the hell is ERU?” Even as Theo growled the question, he spotted a convoy that included the Emergency Response Unit’s armored vehicle snaking its way toward their staging area.

Lieutenant Blessard pulled the last Velcro strap free so the vest opened like a clamshell, freeing Theo. Although the cool air felt great with just a sweat-soaked T-shirt covering his chest and back, his ribs gave a vengeful throb, as if the vest had been containing some of the pain. Theo bit the inside of his cheek as he struggled to keep his face expressionless. When Scott reached toward his T-shirt with scissors, this time Theo allowed him to cut the fabric. Putting his arms above his head to finish undressing seemed next to impossible.

“Better go debrief,” the LT muttered, but he didn’t move as the T-shirt was stripped away. Instead, Blessard kept his gaze dispassionately fixed on Theo’s side. A downward glance showed Theo that it was already bruising, the immediate red mottled with black. Claire pressed around the injured area, and Theo sunk his teeth into his inner cheek so hard that he tasted blood. He’d always gotten along with Claire, but he hadn’t realized she had such a sadistic streak. “Broken?”

“He’ll need an X-ray,” Claire answered the LT. “But I’m guessing they’re just bruised.”

“Good.” Blessard strode toward the arriving ERU members. “I’ll check in with you later.”

“Enough.” Theo twisted away from an especially vicious poke. Unfortunately, the evasive movement hurt even more than Claire’s examination. “Can we just get to the hospital already?”

“You’re going willingly?” Claire’s eyebrows shot up to hide behind her bangs. “I figured we’d have to strap you down and sedate you like an ill-tempered wild boar.”

Standing up, Theo decided he didn’t really care for jokey Claire. He headed for the only remaining ambulance, the one he assumed would be his ride. “Let’s go.”

Before he climbed in, he sent a glance toward the front of the school. It sat silent and looked as empty as if it were the middle of July. He knew the kids and teachers were huddled inside locked classrooms. Theo wondered about Jules, her little sister, and Viggy. Where had they ended up hiding? Were they scared?

Shaking off his useless preoccupation, he stepped into the back of the ambulance, a breath catching in his lungs as his ribs screamed from the movement. Why was he so concerned about people he barely knew? Theo couldn’t answer that question, any more than he could stop worrying about them the entire ride to the hospital.

* * *

When Theo turned and ran back toward the sign, Jules had to keep herself from lunging after him. He’d been her shield, and now, standing behind fragile glass doors, Jules felt horribly exposed. She shook off the desire to chase him. With Dee and Viggy to think about, Jules needed to be their protector now.

Clutching Dee’s hand and Viggy’s leash, Jules tore through the empty hallway, automatically heading for the office. Theo’s absence made her feel raw and vulnerable, as if she’d had body armor that had been stripped away. Jules had to resist the urge to glance behind her, but focused on her goal instead, Dee and Viggy running on either side of her.

The office door was locked. Jules gave a short sob of fright and frustration, but then forced herself to think. The school must be in lockdown. Jules huddled against the wall for a moment, but the hallway didn’t feel safe. Someone could come at them—the shooter could come at them—from too many directions. Her hunted gaze scanned the area, the sure-to-be-locked doors lining the hall mocking her with their close inaccessibility.

“There!” she cried, hauling Viggy and Dee past the office and down the hall.

“Where?” Dee gasped.

“Here.” Darting into the girls’ bathroom, Jules didn’t stop until they were in the farthest stall, huddled against the wall. It took forever for her breathing to slow enough to hear any sounds other than her oxygen-starved gasps. Finally, she was able to listen. There was only silence. They sat for what seemed like an eternity. Viggy was the first of the three of them to shift, lying down and putting his head in Dee’s lap.

“JuJu?” Her sister’s voice was tiny, despite the echo in the tiled bathroom.

Resisting the urge to hush Dee, Jules looked at her solemn face.

“Viggy shouldn’t be in here,” Dee whispered, massaging the dog’s ears. “He’s a boy.”

For some reason, Dee’s lame joke struck Jules as hysterically funny. Pent-up adrenaline pushed for relief, and she struggled to silence her laughter. It didn’t help when Dee began to giggle, as well. They eventually trailed into silence, and they waited, still and quiet, not even shifting positions on the hard, uncomfortable floor.

After what felt like hours later, a loud tone sounded over the PA system, making all three of them jump. Dee let out a tiny scream, and Viggy lifted his head. A few minutes later, small sounds came from the hallway outside. The noise gradually grew in volume until it sounded like a normal high school between classes, with an added note of anxiety that Jules attributed to the lockdown. Blowing out a shaky breath, she climbed to her feet and offered a hand to Dee.

It was over. They’d survived. As Jules’s brain processed this news, her legs went a little rubbery with relief. Niggling worries remained, though, growing until she couldn’t ignore them.

Were Theo and Hugh okay? And who had just tried to kill them?