The Wrong Bones (Widow's Island #10)(22)

A few minutes later, she turned onto Bishopton Road and headed toward the Dooley residence. Outside town, the landscape opened to rolling hills.

The radio crackled, and Kurt’s voice sounded through the speaker. “Disabled vehicle on Bishopton Road, between the winery and the harbor.” Kurt was on his way to the ferry to deliver the box of bones and Dwyer to the sheriff’s department on the mainland. Knowing Kurt, he wouldn’t want to drive past anyone in need. But if he stopped to help, he might miss the ferry.

Tessa grabbed her mic. “I’m four minutes away. Responding.”

“Roger that.” Kurt’s voice slowed, and Tessa imagined him easing off the accelerator as he approached the vehicle. “It’s a white F-250.” Kurt read off a license plate number. “I don’t see anyone in the vehicle—” Three popping sounds, at one-second intervals, interrupted Kurt’s response.

Tessa’s heart rate spiked. She glanced at Logan.

“Gunshots.” Logan’s hand curled around the armrest.

Kurt’s voice, breathless and rushed, echoed in the vehicle. “Shots fired! I’m shot!”

Shock floored Tessa for a single breath; then she shook her head and shouted into the mic, “ETA three minutes.” Tessa pressed the gas pedal to the floor. “Kurt? Kurt? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

An ominous silence fell over the radio. Then the dispatcher repeatedly requested a status, but Kurt didn’t answer him either. The road passed in a rush of lights and sirens. There was no hospital on Widow’s, and the closest thing to an ambulance was, ironically, the funeral home’s hearse. In a life-or-death situation, they would need to call for a medical evacuation and hope an aircraft was available. Deputies were usually the first responders to almost every emergency, medical or criminal. Whatever had happened to Kurt, Tessa and Logan would be the first on scene.

Logan pointed ahead. “There’s Kurt!”

The cruiser was angled across the road. The passenger door stood open. Adrenaline sharpened Tessa’s senses as they approached the vehicle. “I don’t see an F-250.” Tessa slowed her SUV, scanning the surroundings for the shooter.

Logan’s head swiveled. “Me neither.”

She reported her location to dispatch and parked behind Kurt’s cruiser. Weapons drawn, she and Logan stepped out.

Logan assessed the landscape with a practiced eye.

On the west side of the road, the sun sparkled on Widow’s Bay. To the east, a vineyard stretched into the distance. No high ground. No close structures.

“Shooter likely left.” Tessa holstered her gun, but she was glad Logan had her back.

“If I shot a cop, I’d take off.” But Logan kept his sweeping gaze on the fields as Tessa turned to Kurt’s vehicle.

She approached with caution. Behind the wheel, Kurt slumped sideways. The back seat was empty. Dwyer was gone. Tessa opened the driver’s door and pressed two fingers to Kurt’s blood-covered neck. Relief flooded her when she felt his pulse throb against her fingertips. “He’s alive!”

Blood matted his hair, ran down his face, and soaked his uniform shirt. Tessa glanced in the passenger seat. Empty. The box of bones was gone. She turned back to Kurt, looking for the source of bleeding. She found a long furrow in his scalp and another bullet wound high up on his shoulder, at the edge of his body armor vest.

Tessa called Henry and relayed the details of Kurt’s injuries. “He’s unconscious and bleeding heavily from two bullet wounds.”

“Bruce is here. We’re on the way. I’ll call for a medical evac,” the doctor said and then ended the call.

The closest air ambulance was based on San Juan Island, but there were no guarantees that it was available.

Tessa gestured to Kurt. “We need to stop this bleeding.”

Logan helped her pull Kurt from the vehicle. They laid him on the shoulder of the road. Tessa retrieved her first aid kit and a blanket from her vehicle. Logan applied a stack of gauze to the head wound.

Tessa applied pressure to his shoulder. “Kurt, can you hear me?” The older deputy didn’t respond. His breathing seemed shallower, or was that her imagination?

Tessa and Logan applied pressure to Kurt’s wounds until Bruce brought Henry to the scene. The doctor checked under the bandages and started an IV. Then Logan and Bruce loaded Kurt into the back of Bruce’s patrol vehicle. Henry climbed in the back with Kurt. Bruce slid behind the wheel, and the cruiser sped away in the spray of dirt and gravel, headed for the airport to meet the air ambulance plane en route from Friday Harbor.

As Bruce’s vehicle disappeared and the blare of the siren faded, Tessa breathed. She looked down at her hands, covered in Kurt’s blood. Her adrenaline ebbed, leaving her shaky and nauseated.

She looked at Logan, her own feelings reflected back at her. “He’ll be okay.”

“He will.” But Logan’s voice lacked conviction.

If Kurt were a younger man, Tessa would be more optimistic. But the only thing she could do now was find the shooter and solve her case. Kurt’s life would soon be in the hands of the Life Flight crew.

She went to her SUV. After opening the back hatch, she found sanitizing hand wipes. She and Logan cleaned their hands. Tessa wiped at the blood on the sleeve of her uniform but simply made the stain larger. Logan was using a wipe under his nails.