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Chapter Five
Carolina took off like a shot, running into the apartment. First she headed for the poor bastard writhing in a pool of blood near the door. At a glance, she knew his superficial shoulder wound wouldn’t end his life.
Ignoring the pungent coppery smell that threatened to bring her to her knees, she pulled a sweater off the back of a chair, bundled it and settled it over the injury. “The police are coming, sir. Hold onto this like a bandage and put pressure on it.”
“That’s m-my wife’s favorite sweater. She’ll be m-mad if I get blood on it.”
“She’ll get over it. You need it more than she does now.”
“Oh? Did he shoot her?”
Did he sound wishful?
Sorry to dampen his optimistic contemplation, she answered, “No, she’s in the corridor stairway, sir. She’s upset, but fine.”
“Oh, good.”Yep, now there was a distinct sound of sorrow.She’d have to share this one with her gramps. He’d love the irony.
Back on the chase, she ran through the living room to the balcony to see if the assassin lay injured at the bottom after his crazy jump or if he’d made it safely and completely disappeared.
Within seconds, she knew he’d survived the leap and had left the scene. Being that they were on the side of the building, nowhere near the front where the police might have stopped him from escaping, she had no choice. Sighing, she leapt over the railing and prayed he wasn’t waiting to put a bullet in her for her trouble.
Landing like a cat on the ground, perched low, she listened carefully. She heard groans and stumbling footsteps. It sounded as if he might have hurt himself when he landed. Figuring she’d have a chance to catch up with him, she gave chase.
In her mind, debating his choices, she decided he’d use the bushes for cover rather than stay in the open. Carolina followed. By the time she cleared the path and hit the front sidewalk, there wasn’t another person nearby.
Most likely, he’d parked his vehicle closer to the opposite building where his first kill took place. He’d have made his way in that direction. Or at least, it’s what she would have done. Damn, she should have thought of that instead of circling to the right.
“Stop right there. Drop your weapon and put your hands up where I can see them.” The squeaky, shaky voice of a young cop came through loud and clear. She heard the fearful belligerence behind the order. Aware that nowadays cops shot first and asked questions later, especially untrained younger guys who didn’t have the proper experience to deal with a perp holding a gun, she followed his instructions.
She dropped to her knees and laid the gun on the ground, then put both hands over her head where they would be seen. “I’m Special Agent Carolina Madison. Don’t shoot.”
