Some Like It Hawk by Donna Andrews Read Free Book Online Page B

and flattened himself against the wall on the right side of the door.
    Kate and her photographer were busily snapping and scribbling away. They seemed startled when Randall shoved them down behind the pillar to the right of the door. Randall took up a position on the other side of the pillar, where he could see what was going on and still have some cover. I followed his example on the left, then pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911. I saw Randall glance at me, nod approvingly, and shove his own cell phone back in his pocket.
    Officer Wilt raced over to flatten himself against the wall to the left of the door. Like Reilly, he didn’t even glance at us.
    “Go!” he snapped. Reilly sprang into the doorway, head and gun moving rapidly left and right as he scanned the courthouse lobby.
    “Clear!” he said.
    He and Wilt darted into the lobby. Kate leaped up and began inching closer to the door to peer in.
    “I’d stay back if I were you,” Randall said. But he looked as if he were on the verge of ignoring his own advice.
    Debbie Anne, the police dispatcher, answered.
    “Meg, what’s going on! My lines are lighting up like a Christmas tree. If this isn’t urgent—”
    “Someone just fired five or six shots inside the courthouse,” I said. “Two armed guards from the lender’s security service have gone inside to investigate. Randall Shiffley and I are here on the veranda, along with two reporters.”
    “And I’m going in to investigate,” Randall said. “Tell Chief Burke to get over here with everything he’s got.” With that, he launched himself from behind the pillar and ran through the courthouse door. Kate followed.
    Rob was in the courthouse. I almost said it aloud.
    “Randall and the reporter are going in,” I said instead. “Randall says—”
    “Yes, I heard him,” Debbie Anne said. “Already happening.”
    “I’m going to follow, at a distance,” I said.
    “Stay safe,” Debbie Anne replied. “Help is on the way.”
    In fact, help, in the form of Deputy Sammy Wendell, was already loping up the street toward the courthouse. I took a tentative step toward the door.
    The photographer, who’d been peering warily through the doorway, stepped inside.
    Randall had served in the Marines and Kate was a reporter, which to me meant that neither of them was a good role model for a sane person to follow in a dangerous situation. But the photographer had looked a great deal less gung-ho when the shooting started, so if he thought the courthouse lobby was safe to enter, I could at least peek through the door.
    Inside, I could see half a dozen of the armed guards milling around the lobby.
    “—go upstairs and protect the corporate offices,” Wilt was saying. Two of the guards saluted and began running up the curved marble stairway that led to the upper levels. Another two stood by the elevators.
    “But the shots came from the basement,” one of the guards racing up the stairway called back over his shoulder. It spoke volumes about their discipline that he didn’t let this protest slow him down.
    The basement? Wasn’t Rob still in the basement?
    “Reilly and I will check the basement,” Wilt replied.
    “If I were you,” Randall put in, “I’d just stay put until the police get here.”
    Nobody even looked his way. The elevator arrived, and two more guards leaped in, weapons drawn, as if storming an enemy position.
    “We’re capable of handling the situation, thank you,” Wilt said. He strode over to a small doorway, flung it open, and dashed in, followed by Reilly and the reporter.
    “What’s going on?” Deputy Sammy stumbled into the lobby, a little winded from all the stairs.
    “I don’t trust those clowns,” Randall said. “Follow me.”
    Maybe he was talking to Sammy, but I decided to assume he meant me, too. And even if he didn’t mean me—my baby brother could be down there in that basement.
    I glanced at Sammy and saw him suddenly topple over, clutching his leg.
    “Sammy!