St Kilda Consulting 04 - Blue Smoke and Murder

think the gas tank will go?” she asked.
    “Depends on how soon the fire truck gets here. How’s Frost?”
    “Alive.”
    Zach didn’t ask any other questions. The strain in her voice said more than her words.
    “When will the ambulance be here?” Jill asked the operator. “The patient is in shock. We don’t have much time.”
    “Are you a doctor?” the dispatcher asked.
    “I’m a professional river guide. I’ve been trained as a first responder.”
    “Tell them to send the fire truck to the front gate,” Zach said, his voice loud enough to carry to the dispatcher. “That gas tank could blow any second. There’s a pedestrian gate on the north side. It will be shielded from any blast. Send the med-techs in that way.”
    “Copy,” the dispatcher said. “Gate, north side. Fire truck is less than a mile away. Police officers and med-techs will use north entrance.”
    “Last I saw of the shooter he was running south,” Zach said. “I thought I heard a vehicle start up, but can’t be certain. I didn’t see any taillights or headlights.”
    “Copy,” the dispatcher said. “Will inform the officers.”
    Zach put the revolver on the hall stand and looked at Jill. “I’ll go open the north gate. Be back in less than a minute.”
    “Bring more blankets. What happened to the shooter?”
    “I’m pretty sure I winged him, but he still flew. He’s gone.”
    And then Zach was gone, too, running through the house barefoot, making no sound.

51
    TAOS
SEPTEMBER 16
1:18 A.M.
    O ne police unit stood off from the front gate and down the block. The siren was silent, but the blue-and-red light bar flashed a message of urgency. An officer with a bullhorn sent curious neighbors back inside their houses the instant they appeared.
    A fire truck’s big diesel engine revved as the driver switched power to the internal pumps. Behind a starburst of water from the hose, two firemen in turnout jackets and helmets advanced on the burning car. Water hissed on hot steel and vaporized, adding white steam to the roiling black smoke. Another fireman dashed forward with an axe and swung, shattering the safety glass in the side windows.
    The flames began to die back, quenched by water. Very quickly the rental car became a sullen, hissing wreck. The air stank of chemicals and steam. Part of the fire still smoldered stubbornly.
    Jill heard Zach leading med-techs through the house at a run. Since she had been working by the dying firelight, she flipped on the hall lights. Without the flames to give his skin color, Frost looked almost transparent. She stood and got out of the way of the med-techs.
    The first tech, a woman, kneeled beside Frost to examine him. The second tech established a radio link with the hospital and began relaying vital signs as the first tech called them out.
    For an instant Jill felt light-headed. Smoke, adrenaline, fear, or all three. Zach’s arm came around her waist, steadying her.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    “Just taking a deep breath.”
    “You’ve got blood on you.”
    She looked at her hands and rubbed them absently against her jeans. “Frost has a lot more on him.”
    Zach led her down the hall and into the parlor. “The cops who are chasing the shooter will give up real quick and come back here to question us. If they’re any good, they’ll separate us to get our stories.”
    “So?”
    “Tell them everything except what we believe about your paintings,” he said softly. “We were just getting an appraisal from Frost. Got it? Just an appraisal. No St. Kilda, no death threat, no suspicions about your great-aunt’s death, nothing but paintings and an expert appraiser.”
    A woman’s voice called from the hall, “Are either of you this man’s family?”
    Zach went back into the hall. “He has a daughter in Santa Fe, last I heard. I’m an old friend. What do you need?”
    “The patient is weak, but he wants to talk to you,” the woman said. “Better do it before we move him.”
    Zach understood what the woman wasn’t saying. This could be his last chance to talk to Garland Frost.
    As Jill came out to the hall, she saw Zach kneel at Frost’s side. The older man reached out with a feeble motion. An oxygen cannula rested beneath his nose and partially covered his mouth. His lips were moving.
    Zach took the shockingly cool fingers between his warm palms. He leaned over and placed his ear close to Frost’s mouth.
    “…stn…um…nt…on…tm.”
    Frost repeated the sounds again