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“Jax?” She heard movement but kept her focus on the SUV moving.
Then he said, “I don’t see them behind us yet. But it won’t take long.”
Pilsborough said, “Everyone, guns ready. We get out, and we run over that hill.”
“I know the residents.” Kenna hoped they’d be amenable to what was about to happen—or they could get some kind of compensation from the federal government for it. She pulled the wool hat off the dash and tugged it on, along with her gloves. “Let’s go.”
One glance back at Jax, and she caught his nod.
They pushed open the doors.
Kenna led the way, shielding Destain against anyone coming up behind them. He told Jim, “Let’s go. Get moving.” They’d have to deal with the body in the trunk later.
Free of the car, they ran up the hill through snow now a foot deep. Her face numbed, pounded by falling snow. Behind them she spotted flashlights in the dim light. With no lights of their own, they could disappear into the dark and the fog.
She angled closer to Jax, intentionally or not. And somehow, she nearly collided with him as they stumbled up the hill. “Higher than I thought.” Her words disappeared against the wind. She doubted he heard it, but she had to say something. Let the worry out somehow.
We need that peace, God.
She stumbled, planting a hand in the snow, she grunted and clambered back to her feet. Jax grabbed her elbow and helped. She had the wherewithal to give him a reassuring smile before she glanced back. Then gaped. “Run!”
She caught up to Jim.
Gunfire echoed behind them. A shotgun, by the sound of it. They crested the hill, and Destain stumbled. His fall dragged Jim down with him, and the two rolled through the snow.
The house at the bottom of the hill was lit up like a beacon of safety in the night.
Please, Lord.
It was far. They’d have to run all the way down the hill to that sanctuary.
Jax grabbed Jim and hauled him up while Destain scrambled out of the snow.
“Come on!” Pilsborough’s yell was barely audible.
Another light came down at the bottom of the hill. Kenna pumped her arms and legs as hard as she could, wondering if God had been thinking about this moment with that future-knowledge awareness when she was running just a week or so ago and came back to the house to find Kobrinsky.
So much had changed since then. She could barely keep track of everything she had going on right now.
And yet, at the same time, there was a desperate kind of clarity with every heartbeat. Every breath she inhaled, laced with ice particles. Every warmer exhale.
The rhythmic swish of her arms and legs.
She found herself out in front. Down the hill she spotted a couple of dark shapes heading up toward them. People emerged from the house and barn. She didn’t want them being shot at along with her, the marshals, Jax, and their prisoner. They all needed to get in and hunker down behind cover. Protect themselves from the incoming attack.
Pilsborough broke out in front of her and waved his arms. “Hey!” The word drifted away on the wind. He kept waving.
Kenna waved a little, but they already had these people’s attention. Hers was on the two shapes coming up fast. “Dogs.”
But what kind of dogs were these?
They looked like missiles hurtling through the snow.
If they were trained to protect their property and the lives on it, they would attack anything they perceived to be an incoming threat. She didn’t know how they’d been trained, so she couldn’t give a command. Most of the time it was tone anyway, rather than the word.
Kenna eyeballed the one closest to her, coming up fast.
She pulled her fuzzy hood around her neck, holding the sides of the collar at the front, then tucking it close to her neck. As the dog raced up to her, she slowed. Knelt. Turned her head to the side and gave the dog her shoulder.