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