Stranded

were about twenty feet back, bringing up the rear.
    Again, Maggie noticed there was nothing else but thick forest surrounding the area. No shelters in sight. Although she couldn’t see beyond the dark shadows inside the forest. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the beginning rumble of the brewing storm.
    In fact, the first crack Maggie heard, she thought it was thunder until she saw Trooper Wiley fall to his knees, holding his throat. In a gulp of a breath, a second gunshot followed. Right next to her, Trooper Campos’s head exploded, splattering Maggie in the face.
    She ripped at her windbreaker as Campos fell against her, taking her with him to the ground. Her fingers yanked at her holster.
    Then a third shot. This one hit Tully.

CHAPTER 55

    Maggie belly-crawled to where Tully lay. The tall grass offered little camouflage. But Campos’s body provided a barrier. Weapon drawn, she couldn’t see the shooter. Could he still see her? All she knew was that the shots came from the trees and they came within seconds, easy targets.
    A fourth shot and she heard Demarcus scream.
    She ducked her head, her cheek against the cold, damp earth. Everything had gone quiet except for her heartbeat thumping in her ears. Her body was drenched in sweat.
    She twisted her neck till she could see Tully.
    Blood stained his windbreaker. An entrance wound.
Oh dear God
. Right over his heart.
    “Damn it, Tully. No!”
    She said it under her breath. Angry tears threatened.
    She blinked hard. Pushed up on her elbows. Her pulse raced. She tried to sneak a glimpse over Campos’s body.
    No orange jumpsuit. Where the hell was Otis?
    And where was his buddy Jack? Or Buzz, or whatever the hell his name was.
    It was quiet now. Too quiet.
    And then there was one
.
    The thought sent a fresh panic through her body. Tully had warned her that this guy was obsessed with her. It was
her
, not the scavenger hunt, that he was after. And now she was the only one left because Jack wanted it that way. He wanted her alive.
    She gripped her revolver, trigger finger ready. She pulled herself up against Campos’s body. With her free hand, she rummaged through the cases attached to his three-inch gun belt. She tucked his ASR (aerosol subject restraint) spray canister into the cuff of her left sock. His Taser went into her waistband, under her jacket at the small of her back. He was lying on his holstered service revolver. She couldn’t get to it without rolling him over.
    Something behind her moved. She turned around, ready to take aim.
    A groan from Tully. His eyelids fluttered. He blinked, trying to focus. He looked to be in shock. And in pain.
    A flicker of relief washed over her. It was quickly replaced by urgency. She needed to see how badly he was hit. She needed to stop the bleeding. But there was something else she needed to do and quickly.
    She clawed at the case on Trooper Campos’s belt, yanked it open, and removed two items. One she slid into her other sock, shoving it all the way down. Then she crawled, using her elbows to pull her so she could stay down as low as possible to the ground. Just a few more inches.
    She heard the crunch of footsteps. Close. Too close.
    She reached out and touched Tully. She had to put her revolver down for three seconds. One second—she grabbed his wrist. Two—snapped a handcuff on. Three—snapped the other onto herwrist. Then she reached for her revolver just as a shadow came over her.
    “Leave it, Magpie,” a voice said from above and behind her.
    The use of her nickname made her catch her breath. It was a term of endearment that only her father and mother had used.

CHAPTER 56

    WASHINGTON, D.C.
    Gwen hated hospital gowns. They were always three times too large. Her feet were freezing cold. Why hadn’t she thought to bring socks? She was filling her mind with trivial things to keep it from remembering the biopsy needle sinking into her flesh. She had had the procedure explained to her three or four times now. They gave her a local anesthesia and used an ultrasound-guided needle instead of a freehand needle biopsy because the mass couldn’t be easily felt. There’d be no scars or bruising. It was much less invasive than an open surgical biopsy. She’d be able to return to work or go home right away.
    She had been assured that it had “gone very well.” But they wanted her to “lie here for a short time.” All simple and fine, and yet the nurse seemed surprised that she was alone, that no one