What We Find (Sullivan's Crossing, #1)(35)

It was completely dark but with a nice, big moon lighting up the property. And boy, were the police pissed at Maggie. She had specifically defied Stan’s orders.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Stan raged. “You could’ve killed somebody! You could’ve hurt that little girl!”

“I took that into consideration,” she said. “If she’d gotten hurt I could still do some damage to them and get her out. But no one was gonna die from Sully’s old shotgun. Noisiest piece of gun in the West, I think,” she said. “Scared ’em. That’s what I wanted.”

“You could’ve been killed! Those big old bad boys could’ve walked right through that shot and killed you dead!”

“While I was doing my best, at least,” she said.

“Leave her be now. She did what she had to do,” Sully said. “You gonna sit outside and listen to a little girl scream?”

“It’s okay, Dad,” she said. “Let ’em get it off their chest. You can go to the house and rest. This has been a strain on you.”

“You think I’m likely to miss any of this?” he said.

“You could’a been killed, Maggie!” Stan persisted.

“Yeah, but I thought there was a better chance they’d never anticipate me coming at them with a shotgun. So...look, I shot the ceiling, hoping to scare them and hold a gun on them until police arrived, but they were going for their weapons and I was without a choice.”

From there she had to sit at one of the tables on the porch with her dad and Cal and police detectives, her interview recorded, while crime scene people examined the cabin where the shooting took place. They confiscated all the weapons, including Sully’s, the truck and everything else that belonged to the men.

While the police made it very clear they did not approve of the action she’d taken, they also conceded that with one holding a knife and the other reaching for his gun, it was self-defense. They weren’t inclined to arrest her, but they did tell her to stay at the camp and not to leave without notifying Stan.

“Are there any charges pending?” Cal asked the detective.

“The file is not closed,” he answered. “But so far I haven’t seen any evidence that would warrant arrest. Still, the investigation is not quite over.”

A while later a paramedic she’d known for about ten years, Conrad Boyle, Connie for short, came up on the porch. He grinned at her. “Nothing to worry about, Maggie,” he said. “Except the one that got hit? He says he’s gonna sue you.”

“Tell him to get in line,” she answered somewhat bitterly. No good deed ever goes unpunished.

“He’s gonna be fine. They’re twins, you know that? Burt and Bud. From the Wet Mountain Valley area, back in the hills. I’m just guessing, but I bet they’re pretty well-known back in those trees.”

“Thanks, Connie.”

“You need anything before we haul outta here?”

“Got a Valium?” she asked.

“I’ll have to check you, call ER, write it up. You don’t have one?”

“Forget it, Connie,” she said. “After everyone gets out of here, maybe I’ll have a drink or something.”

He grinned at her. “I don’t care what anyone says. Good on ya, Maggie. You probably saved that girl’s life.”

“Thanks, Connie.”

An hour and a half later, the grounds finally quiet, law enforcement and rescue gone, Maggie had a nice, hearty whiskey blend over a couple of ice cubes, out on the porch with Cal. Sully had gone to bed but she was still way too wired and spooked. She could tell that while the grounds were quiet, people were still awake. She could see the glow of fires in the dark night; she heard the gentle murmurs of talking. She wasn’t the only one afraid to close her eyes on the night.

“Just one question,” Cal said. “What made you storm that cabin? Without help? Without backup of any kind?”

She took a sip of her drink. “There was an emergency case I remembered. Years ago, when I was a senior resident in trauma...”

It was a victim the police couldn’t get to. The apartment was surrounded by SWAT, uniforms, dogs, negotiators and medical. There was only one entry and it took hours while the suspect held the victim with a gun. After hours of trying, in an act of life-threatening heroism, one officer breached the apartment through a hole in the wall and eliminated the suspect. He was a young SWAT officer with a family who braved death to save an innocent. And he was too late.

“Not only had the victim been assaulted for hours, she was critical from a gunshot wound to the head when they finally got in. She was pregnant. It was a tragedy of huge proportions and we couldn’t save her. I thought, maybe stupidly, that I had a chance in this case. I thought I might have to kill them to get Chelsea out but I also thought if I fired one round and they gave up, I wouldn’t have to kill them and maybe could save her before any more damage was done.”

“You weren’t scared?” he asked.

“Of course, I must have been.”

“Don’t you even know?” he asked.

She smiled contritely. “If I let being scared stop me from doing what I think I have to do, I wouldn’t get far. Would I?”

He shook his head and laughed. “You were lucky,” he said. “You might be an ace in the operating room but in this, you were lucky. Let’s not do that again, all right?”