Page 34 of Wild Fever

Lori's calico cat darted out the door and sprinted down the walkway. The cat’s paws were covered in dried blood.

With weapons drawn, JD and I advanced into the living room. I told Kara to wait at the door.

It was a small studio apartment with a reasonable living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. A futon against the wall doubled as a bed. There was a coffee table, a few plants, and an entertainment center with a flatscreen display. Lori had tried to dress up the place with a few cheap art prints from a big-box furniture store.

A woman lay on the floor in a pool of blood, a gunshot wound to the back of her head. Crimson had stained the carpet.

I figured that was Lori.

"Called in sick, huh?" JD muttered.

"I’m going to go out on a limb and say she didn't die from the flu."

We cleared the studio apartment and surveyed the area.

Kara darted into the apartment as gunshots erupted. She slammed the door and latched the deadbolt.

An instant later, a hail of bullets shattered the window. Molten copper spewed across the apartment as we hit the deck. Shards of glass rained down. Bullets peppered the sheetrock.

22

Ireturned fire, my pistol hammering against my palm, blasting shots at the window.

More bullets pierced the door. There were two shooters outside. They closed in on the apartment from either direction.

Jack pulled Kara into the bathroom, closed the door, and took cover. I backed into the kitchen and held up at the door frame. I did a mag dump on the perps, then dropped the magazine, and slapped in another one.

The whole exchange lasted a few moments, but it seemed like hours. My pulse pounded, throbbing in my ears, and my heart punched against my chest. The smell of gunpowder drifted about the small apartment. Adrenaline sizzled my nerves.

Footsteps pattered away, rumbling the walkway as the assailants took off.

With caution, I advanced across the living room, held up by the front door, then pulled it open. I swung my barrel outside and swept it across the walkway.

The perps were long gone. I didn't see them, but the main gate squealed and clanked. Footsteps slapped against concrete. The other punk must have gone out through the back exit.

A car door opened and closed. Tires screeched.

I took off, sprinting after them. I plunged down the steps, barreled through the courtyard, and pushed out the gate in time to see a black sedan speed out of the lot. Tires squealed as it turned onto the road.

There was no license plate.

The black-tinted windows made it impossible to see inside the vehicle. It was the same car that had followed us before.

The other punk must have taken off on foot. There was no way he could have gotten around the building to the sedan that quickly.

I hustled back up to Lori's apartment and stepped inside. By that time, a few curious neighbors had peered through blinds. Nobody was stupid enough to open their door and poke their head out.

"Is everybody okay?”

"Affirmative," Jack shouted from a bathroom.

He pulled open the door that had a few bullets embedded in it.

Kara climbed out of the shower stall and stepped into the living room with him, looking frazzled.

"I'd say we’re onto something," Jack said.

I called the sheriff, and it wasn't long before first responders swarmed. Dietrich snapped photos, and Brenda examined theremains. Forensic investigators chronicled the scene, marking spent shell casings on the second-floor walkway and in the courtyard.