High in Trial - By Donna Ball Page 0,62

was probably what saved my life, because it was at that very moment that the ground exploded in a pop of dust less than six inches from where I was standing.

People say at first you don’t know what’s happening. I’ve been around gunfire all my life and there was a part of my brain that knew exactly what was happening. And there was a part of my brain that was saying, No, no, not here, it can’t be, while yet another part registered screaming and running and people falling on the ground. Milliseconds, only milliseconds passed while dirt exploded all around me and people fell and dogs barked and legs ran and voices screamed. Agent Ledbetter reached for his gun but spun to the ground before he could draw it. Somewhere close a siren screeched and then another. I heard a name—my name—and suddenly Miles barreled into me, not just pushing me, but throwing me toward the shelter of the bleachers with such force that I thudded into a support post and lost my breath. I lay gasping like a beached whale and everything was in slow motion, slow desperate motion because Cisco was no longer with me. His leash had been torn from my hand and now I could see him standing in the middle of the pavilion looking confused and uncertain, looking for me. Inside, I screamed, Cisco! But I had no breath to make words. Miles pushed away from me and rushed toward Cisco.

He went down in a rain of gunfire, and that was when I found the breath to scream, “Noooo!”

But it was too late.

~*~

EIGHTEEN

The Aftermath

I remember the wail of sirens was like the howl of coyotes, drawing closer and closer and louder and louder in those endless seconds of death-quiet before the world started spinning again. Suddenly no more gunfire. Suddenly only broken sobs in the stillness, the thin high bark of a small-breed dog. The smell of cordite and dust and spicy nachos. The drone of a distant RV generator. And then somewhere above my head was a sharp command that had the word “Secure!” in it. I remember that, even though before it was spoken I was already half-running, half-crawling, stumbling and falling, heaving great big choking, horrified gasping breaths, and then I was in Miles’s arms.

I remember that it was like being squeezed by a boulder. I remember the taste of his jacket and the salt of my own tears in my mouth, the rock-hard pressure of his chest and arms, and whispers in my ear, something like, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. It is.” And Cisco, my big golden guy, worming his way between us, his hot breath on my face, his thick silky fur clasped in my fist. The sound of my ragged breath filled my ears. My face, slick with mucous and tears and mud, pressed first against Cisco’s fur and then against Miles’s chest. My throat was thick with sobs and I clung to them both, hard. I banged one fist feebly against Miles’s chest.

“You went back for him, you idiot.” The words were a muffled string of slobber and sobs. “You went back for my dog. You saved him. You went back for my dog.”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You scared me so much! You idiot!” I tried to hit his chest again, but my fist went flat against it, pressing deep into his heartbeat instead. “You scared me so much.”

I felt his fingers threading through my hair, cupping my scalp. His voice was husky. “Now you know the feeling.”

“It’s not just something people say,” I whispered wetly. “It’s not!”

Miles took my face in his hands and he kissed me, there in the dust in the middle of an AKC trial, mud, mucous, tears, and all, and he said, “I know.”

I clung to them, the two guys I loved, until the noise and the shuddering and the terror subsided. We were okay.

We were all okay.

* * *

Four people were taken to the hospital, most with minor injuries from falls or shrapnel. A bullet had grazed Agent Ledbetter’s shoulder, but he considered the injury minor and was back on the scene with his arm in a dark sling long before the questioning of the witnesses was complete. No dogs were hurt, although some escaped their handlers and were so agitated it took hours to find them. The timely intervention of the SWAT team, who were on site only minutes after Berman arrived, could be thanked for the