Saving Faith By: David Baldacci

who was fast sinking to the floor, his body twitching uncontrollably.

The movement was fast. It seemed too fast for a man in his fifties,

but then again, desperation could mix with adrenaline in a flash.

Connie’s hand dipped to his ankle. A compact pistol was in a holster

there. The gun was out and aimed before anyone could react. Connie

had multiple targets, but he chose Danny Buchanan and fired.

The only one who reacted as fast as Connie did was Faith Lockhart.

From where she was standing next to Buchanan, she saw the pistol come

out before anyone else. She saw the barrel pointed at her friend. In

her mind she could hear the explosion that would launch the bullet that

would kill Buchanan. How she moved that fast was inexplicable.

The bullet hit Faith in the chest; she gasped once and then dropped at

Buchanan’s feet.

“Faith!” Lee screamed. Instead of tackling Connie, he lunged for her.

Reynolds’s gun was trained on Connie. As he swung the pistol around in

her direction, the image of the palm reader flashed through her mind.

That all-too-short life line. MOTHER OF Two, FEDERAL AGENT DEAD. She

saw the headline fully and boldly in her mind. The whole thing was

almost paralyzing. Almost.

She and Connie locked gazes. He was bringing up his pistol, lining it

up with her. He would pull the trigger, she had no doubt. He clearly

had the nerve, the balls to kill. Did she? Her finger tightened on

her own trigger as the entire world seemed to slow to the pace of an

underwater world, where gravity was either suspended or magnified. Her

partner. An FBI agent. A traitor. Her children. Her own life. Now

or never.

Reynolds pulled the trigger once and then a second time. The recoil

was short, her aim perfect. As the bullets entered Connie’s body, his

bulk quivered, his mind perhaps still sending messages, not yet

realizing that it was dead.

Reynolds thought she saw Connie stare searchingly at her as he started

to go down, the gun falling from his hand. That image would haunt her

forever. Only when Agent Howard Constantinople hit the floor and

didn’t move again did Brooke Reynolds take a breath.

“Faith, Faith!” Lee was tearing at her shirt, exposing the horribly

bloody wound in her chest. “Oh my God. Faith.” She was unconscious,

her breathing barely detectable.

Buchanan stared down in blank horror.

Reynolds knelt beside Lee. “How bad?”

Lee looked up in anguish. He couldn’t speak.

Reynolds assessed the wound. “Bad,” she said. “Slug’s still in her.

The hole’s right near her heart.”

Lee looked at Faith. Her skin was already beginning to pale. He could

feel the warmth of life spilling out from her with each shallow breath

she took. “Oh, God. No. Please!” he cried out.

“We’ve got to get her to a hospital. Fast,” Reynolds said. She had no

idea where the closest hospital was, let alone a trauma center, which

was what Faith really needed. And searching the local area by car

would be akin to signing the woman’s death warrant. She could call the

paramedics, but who knew how long it would take for them to get here?

The roar of the plane engine outside made Reynolds glance at the

window. The plan formed in her head within seconds. She raced back to

Connie and lifted his FBI credentials from his body. For one brief

moment she gazed at her former colleague. She shouldn’t feel bad for

what she had done. He had been well prepared to kill her. So why did

she feel crushed by remorse? But Connie was dead. Faith Lockhart

wasn’t. At least not yet. Reynolds hustled back over to where Faith

lay. “Lee, were taking the plane. Hurry!”

The group raced outside, Reynolds in the lead. They could hear the

plane’s engines revving up as it prepared to take off. Reynolds

sprinted ahead. She headed for the wall of brush until Lee screamed at

her and pointed toward the access road. She raced in that direction

and a minute later found herself on the runway. She looked down at the

opposite end. The plane was turning, getting ready to roar down the

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