Page 41 of Cold Light of Day

She spotted a form emerging from the woods. Gripping his midsection, he stumbled forward.

Dad!

He was trying to make his way back to the house but collapsed. She rushed forward, panic swallowing her whole.

She crouched next to him. “Dad!”

More gunfire echoed, coupled with discharged flashes. She spotted the silhouette of someone shooting at Grier, then dashing behind a tree.

She aimed her gun at the shooter. “Police! Put your weapon down!”

The figure suddenly disappeared into the night. Autumn wouldn’t give chase and put her gun away. Her heart lurched as she turned on her flashlight and saw the extensive blood coming from Dad’s gut.

An image of Ross flashed in her mind.

She set the flashlight at an angle so it would give light, then decided against it and switched it off. She could do this without the light. She yanked off her jacket and pressed it against the wound to slow the bleeding. Holding back her panic, she steadied her voice to instill hope in her father.

Sometimes hope made the difference between life and death.

“Dad, you’re going to be okay. Just hang on.”

He made a resigned coughing/laughing sound as if he didn’t believe he would make it, and that ripped her heart open.

No...Dad.“Help is on the way. I called as soon as I walked into the dark house.”

As if confirming her statements, sirens echoed through thenight. If only the hospital and ambulance weren’t on the other side of town, which was too far when seconds counted. Autumn was also a trained first responder, although she didn’t lug a medical kit around on her person. But maybe she should. Maybe she should start carrying Celox gunshot wound granules in her pocket if this trend continued. Whatever. She couldn’t leave him to grab the kit. For now, she would keep the pressure on Dad’s gunshot wound and wait for help to arrive.

He gripped her wrist with his bloody hands. “You’re in danger.”

Grier had said the same thing.

“Why am I in any more danger than you?” Because, clearly, her father was in danger of losing his life, a thought she would try not to dwell on or she would fall apart.

“It’s my fault,” he said.

While pressing her jacket against his wound, she used her other hand to check his pulse. It was thready, growing weaker.

“Grier! Somebody! Help me!”

She radioed. “Tanya, someone, Dad needs help now!”

“They’re on the way. I’m praying for you. Tell Miles to hang on. God isn’t done with him yet!”

Sirens grew louder. “It won’t be long now, Dad.”

Her choice of words could be taken a different way than she meant. At the sound of a disturbance behind her, she reached for her gun while still maintaining pressure on the wound.

“It’s me, it’s me.” Grier dropped to his knees next to her. “What can I do to help?”

“Can you get the medical kit for me?” She grabbed her keys and tossed them his way.

Catching the keys, Grier rushed off.

She waited. Prayed.

A mere thirty seconds ticked by. But thirty seconds felt like an eternity in this life-and-death situation.

What’s taking him so long?