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She’d planned to circle the building to look for activity, perhaps a strange car in the lot. Not expecting anything, she tried a few doors at the various entrances.
When she found an unlocked door at the main entrance to the plant she hesitated, then cautiously stepped inside with Harold at her heels. Had the door been left open on purpose?
She waited for several minutes, listening for any sounds coming from the darkened hallway leading to the offices or from the other side of the door leading into the plant itself.
With the warrant in her pocket, she could legally justify her presence, but this would be only a quick reconnaissance.
If the shipment was here, she’d wait for backup before kicking in doors. But if it hadn’t arrived, an ill-timed raid would ruin every chance for success later on. The shipments would be quietly routed elsewhere. It might take months to find the new pipeline. And everything she’d done here would be for nothing.
Reassured by the tomblike silence, she slipped into the factory itself. Harold was right beside her, his nails clicking on the cement floor.
The cavernous building was dark save for several red EXIT signs and a subdued glow coming from an area to the right. A security light, maybe. Massive production equipment towered above her like prehistoric creatures, casting ominous shadows in her path as she crept along the wall, maintaining her cover behind the machinery and high-stacked pallets.
She intended to check out the storage area where she’d seen deliveries arrive late at night. Then she’d go back to the warehouse. Maybe the driver coming from the West Coast had raced the storm and had parked his vehicle inside.
If so, she had it made. No one could head out into this storm and get very far, and strangers in a small town stood out like clowns at a funeral. Once she knew the suspects were here, she’d alert the County Sheriff’s Department for backup.
Harold growled. From behind her came a single, muted sound of a metal shoe cleat against the floor. Then the quiet click of a gun safety’s release.
Harold erupted into a frenzy of barking. Dragging him behind her, she dove behind a row of pallets stacked high with boxes. A single shot rang out as she rolled under a conveyor belt still laden with bottles. Harold yelped. Glass shattered. The whine of the bullet echoed as it ricocheted.
Sara lunged forward, jerked her Beretta from the holster at the small of her back and ran, keeping the dog at her side. Another shot burst through the darkened building as she arrived at the exit, and the door to the hallway flew open.
A burning sensation torched through her right arm. Something clattered at her feet and spun away. The Beretta. There wasn’t time to go after it.
I need cover. She darted through the door. Slammed it shut the moment Harold was through it. Then she pushed one of the tall display cases to block the door.
Her pursuer rammed it from the other side, shouting angrily. Sara hurried down the hallway leading to the offices.
The doors were all locked, but just ahead, the human resources door stood slightly ajar.
She slipped inside. Shut and locked it behind her, then dropped to her knees to examine her dog. Harold seemed fine, yet there was blood...
She stared down at her hand, where blood dripped in a steady stream from a wound at the side of her palm, but she’d been too dazed to feel the full extent of the wound. Reaching into her pocket with her left hand, she pulled out her cell phone and hit speed dial for 911, then raised the phone to her ear.
The extra weapon at her waist might help, but she was going to need help, and fast. The guy in the warehouse could be here any second.
At a faint whimper, she lifted her gaze and turned slowly.
Jane edged forward from the door to the small supply storeroom in the corner, her face pale as the snow and her eyes filled with fear.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Sara said quietly. “Everything’s okay, I promise.”
Jane turned even paler. “P-please—”
She lurched forward, and Robert Hanson appeared from behind her, a gun in his hand and his face a twisted mask of anger. “Put that phone down!” he snapped. “Now! On that cabinet by the door. If your dog makes a move, he’s dead.”
Sara slowly lowered the phone, silently praying the Aspen County dispatch had picked up her call by now. “Take it easy. No one wants to get hurt.”
“I should have known you two were in this together. The first time your friend showed up around here—” he gave Jane another shove and she staggered, then caught herself with both hands at the corner of her desk “—I saw trouble. I tried to make it clear that you had to keep quiet. And now it’s too late.”
Sara raised her voice enough to be heard over her cell phone. “Don’t be frightened, Jane. No one is going to get hurt. Not right here at Sanderson—not right in your own office.”
“B-but I didn’t... I don’t know what you’re all talking about.” Tears slid down Jane’s cheeks. “What could I tell? Who?”
Robert jerked his gun toward Jane. “Why were you here this late?”
“R-reports. I was doing your reports.”
