Chapter 12

"That property up on Catfish Lane work for you two?" Mike asked two weeks later.

Cyrus wrinkled his nose. "It's five acres, has to be cleared, and needs a driveway before I can even think of moving a mobile home onto it until we could afford to break ground on building a house. I thought it would be easy to find something already built with a bit of land. Didn't have to be fancy." He raked a hand through his hair. Anything he'd looked at with a house on it, even with a postage-stamp-sized yard, had been listed at over half a million. The property he'd found was just over two-hundred-fifty-thousand, and the realtor had called it a steal.

"You could always stay at the lodge and save the expense of a trailer while you build."

Cyrus shook his head. "We're already sneaking around like teenagers, looking for some privacy when her brother's not around. But to answer your question, I like the property. It needs some trees; it's all brush because it was once part of a ranch, but we can make it work. It's just going to take some time. I think we can get septic and electric installed, the road graded, and the trailer set up in a couple of months. Then we'll be saving hard, maybe doing some of the work ourselves on the place where we want the house to sit."

Mike grinned from his seat beside him. "Look at you, all grown up and planning to move in with a woman."

Cyrus shook his head. "Shut the fuck up, man." But he was smiling, too. Yeah, it was funny how quickly everything had seemed to fall together—the new job, meeting the one-in-a-million woman he could actually see himself wanting to grow old with. Now, if only their offer on the land was accepted…

"What did Milly think about it?"

Cyrus's smile grew. He'd been nervous to take her out there, knowing some people wouldn't be able to see the potential in the undeveloped property. "She walked all five acres and then told me where she thought the best place for the house would be. Just so happened it was the same spot I'd chosen. She also had ideas for what she wanted to do with the land—pasture for a cow or two, a garden, a shed for our boat, four-wheelers, and snow machines. She wanted to make sure we planted some fir trees to block the view of our neighbors on one side. I had to slow her down, she was getting so worked up."

Mike grinned. "Jake's not too happy about her moving out. He thinks it's too soon."

"We get that," Cyrus said. "But it feels right, man. We don't want to slow down." He blew out a breath. "But enough about me. Who's our skip today? Remind me, because I was daydreaming through the morning meeting."

"Caleb Jennings. Damn, this guy's mom gave him up," Mike said, riffling through the folder Liesel had given them for the skip they were heading out to capture. "Said she was tired of him hiding out in her basement, playing video games all day, and him needing meals twenty-four/seven, which she had to cook because he said he didn't want anyone to see him through the windows."

"Remind me again what he was charged with?"

"Possession of schedule two drugs: OxyContin and Fentanyl. He worked in a hospital pharmacy and was caught when they did an inventory and then rolled back camera feeds to see who was accessing the pills."

"Well, let's go talk to Mom. Once she lets us in the door, the hardest part will be dragging him from his gaming console. I'm hoping I can knock off early and catch Milly as she gets home."

"Jake's gonna be off, too," Mike said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Yeah, but I was thinking about taking the boat out for some fishing at dusk. Catch some trout, then cook it under the starlight."

"Man, who'd have thought you'd be such a romantic," Mike said then laughed.

Milly glanced around the parking lot at the Canyon Lodge Bistro. The parking lot was full, but she'd agreed to meet Cecily for lunch, and she'd just radioed into Yellowstone dispatch to let them know she was breaking for lunch.

She found Cecily inside, hugging a single table in the middle of the huge dining room. She waved to get Milly's attention.

When Milly approached, Cecily rose. "How about I go through the line while you stake out our table to make sure no one else gets it."

Milly was happy to give her a ten and then sit for a while. She'd spent hours that morning at a traffic checkpoint, handing out informational brochures and warnings. She slipped off her shoes under the table and sighed. Although tempted to call Cyrus and see how he was doing, she did not want to be caught by Cecily calling her boyfriend. The woman was way too interested in her love life as it was.

While she sat, she eyed the people filling the large dining room—families with children of all ages, old and young married couples, young adults with backpacks. So many from so far away. On any given day, she could pick up the sounds of other languages being spoken. In fact as she sat there, she detected German and Japanese, and of course, Spanish. She loved that the place she worked was known around the world and a favored destination.

Her glance went back to Cecily, who was filling their trays. She was only ten people away from the cashier, so it wouldn't be long now.

Something caught her attention through the windows overlooking the parking lot. A man was walking toward the entrance with a rifle strap over his shoulder. Open carry was allowed in the park, but she was always on the alert when she saw a weapon, and there was something about his expression, so watchful and perhaps nervous, that had the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She slipped her feet back into her shoes.

She kept her seat as he entered and passed the food counter, heading straight toward the kitchen. Something didn't feel right, and she pushed up from her seat, weaving through tables to get to the kitchen door.

Once there, she heard muffled shouts inside, then the sharp report of a weapon.

Instantly, she drew her weapon and then, with her other hand, unclipped her radio and called dispatch. "Dispatch, shots fired at the Canyon Bistro. Repeat, shots fired at Canyon Bistro." She glanced toward the line and saw that Cecily was already waving people toward the exit. "Suspect is male, approximately five-foot-nine, with dark hair, and carrying a long rifle. He's currently inside the kitchen. We're moving people outside the Bistro to the parking lot."

She clipped her radio to her belt and crept closer to the door, bending low to avoid being seen through the glass windows in the swinging doors. Behind her, she heard shouts and screams as people rushed toward the exits. In the distance sirens pierced the air, so help was on the way, but for now, it was just Cecily and her inside the restaurant to try to get enough information to help those scrambling to the scene.

She glanced back to Cecily who was making her way to her now. They both took up positions on either side of the doors leading into the kitchen.

Cecily drew her weapon. "We have to get a look inside," she said quietly, tension in her jaw and tightened voice.

Milly nodded and inched up to peek through the glass. She couldn't see any of the kitchen staff inside or the shooter. "He must have herded them into the back. I can't see anyone. I also don't see any blood. I'm going in."

"We should wait."

"Until he hurts someone if he hasn't already?"

Cecily's lips thinned. "I'll cover you. Get inside, then I'll follow."

"Turn your radio down," she said softly. "We don't want it squawking when we get closer to him."

Milly pushed through the door and quickly moved to a covered position next to a large refrigerator. Peering deeper into the kitchen, she could hear crying and muffled curses off to the far left.

Looking back at the swinging doors, she spotted Cecily peering inside and signaled for her to enter.

"They're back that way," she whispered, indicating toward the back of the kitchen where she assumed a large storage closet was and perhaps the exits in the back.

"Stay here and get on the radio with dispatch to let them know where we think he has the hostages," Milly said. "I'm going to get closer to assess what's happening."

Cecily nodded and raised her radio, speaking softly into it while Milly quickly moved along the food prep tables to the rear of the kitchen.

The closer she got, the louder one particular voice became.

"I'll fucking kill you all. Get Shorty on the phone now. I want his ass here, or people are gonna die."

A female voice replied, "We'll get him on the phone to see if he can come, but, Bobby, this isn't the way to solve this."

"He fucking fired me! I'm getting kicked out of my goddamn apartment today. It's his fucking fault."

A low mutter sounded, but she couldn't make out the words.

"What did you say?" Bobby shouted. "What the fuck did you say?"

The sound of a thump was followed by a cry.

"The next one who thinks they can take me will get worse!"

"No one's going to try to take you," the female said, "but you have to know the park rangers have this place surrounded. You're going to have to talk to them."

"I'm so fucked," Bobby said, sounding panicked. " I'm so fucked. I'm not goin' to jail. I'm not. All I wanted was to talk to Shorty. I told him I was coming, and the fucking coward isn't here."

Milly moved closer and edged toward the doorway where their voices were coming from. She drew a deep breath, ducked low, and peered around the corner.

Bobby stood holding his rifle pointed at a group of people who were mostly cowering on the floor, hands covering their heads. One man was bleeding from what she assumed was a blow to his head, and an older woman stood with her hands in front of her.

Milly eased back. There was nothing she could do other than stand by and hope the folks inside, especially the woman he seemed to be listening to, could keep him calm until a negotiator arrived to talk to Bobby.

She moved back, glancing behind her, but her elbow struck an implement on a table and sent it crashing to the floor. She closed her eyes for a second as she silently cursed herself and slid her weapon back into her holster—no need to add to the heat of the situation if he decided to see who was outside. She continued moving backward.

A moment later, Bobby stepped out. His eyes narrowed on her, and his gaze swung between her and the people inside. "May as well come join the party," he said, "but give me your weapon first."

Milly's stomach dove to her toes, but she removed her weapon from its holster and then bent slowly to lay it on the floor. However, instead of pushing it toward him, she kicked it under the food prep tables. His lips parted in a snarl, and he pointed the rifle toward the room behind him. Without speaking, she slipped past him and into the room beyond.

Cyrus and Mike were nearly at the intersection of Norris Canyon Road and Grand Loop Road. Mike had received a group text from the PD asking for all available officers to head into the park to support law enforcement due to a situation with a shooter at the Canyon Bistro. The message had included the little tidbit about a female park ranger being held at gunpoint, and there was no way Cyrus wasn't accompanying Mike into the park.

He knew in his gut that the park ranger was Milly. Of course, it was. They made the turn toward the Bistro and came up to a roadblock. Mike flashed his badge, and they allowed him past.

He stopped his SUV along the road leading into the parking lot. They immediately geared up, and Cyrus followed Mike as he made his way past another barrier into the lot. What had to be patrons were being held a safe distance away from their cars, and more rangers, wearing helmets and Kevlar, were waiting outside the Bistro, looking as though they were ready to storm the building. His heart stuttered, then thudded dully. He could hear the rhythmic whoosh of blood in his ears.

"They aren't going to let either one of us near the building," Mike said beside him.

They made their way around the officers' periphery to a SWAT-like vehicle with a group of people who looked like they were directing the action.

A blond park ranger stood talking to the man who looked to be in charge. From her appearance—tall, mid-thirties, and blonde—Cyrus guessed it was Milly's friend, Cecily.

He kept his gaze on her, waiting for her to finish speaking, and when she walked away from the man in charge, he edged his way around the crowd of officers and park rangers to get to her. "Are you Cecily?" he called out to her.

The woman turned, her gaze going to his Kevlar and his badge, which was pinned to the front. "You Cyrus?"

He nodded. "Is it her in there? The female park ranger?"

Cecily nodded, and his heart did a nosedive. "I saw him take her into the room with the others he's holding. So far, there have been no other shots since the initial one he fired, and I can't be sure, but I don't think he's hurt anyone yet. They're trying to talk him into surrendering."

Cyrus glanced at the men in tactical gear. "How'd she look?" he asked past the knot forming in the back of his throat, making his voice thick.

Her expression softened. "She didn't look scared. She's keeping her head, staying calm."

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out. "It's Milly."

Cecily and Mike moved closer and peered down at the screen. Milly was sending a live video call. He tapped the screen to accept it.

Instantly, he saw her face; then, the phone tilted to the room around her. She was kneeling among six or seven individuals; the man holding a rifle was pacing in front of them, holding a cell phone to his ear.

Cecily reached out and hit the mute button. "We have to get this to the on-scene commander.

As much as he wanted to hold onto his phone and his connection to Milly, he knew she was right.

"Come with me," Cecily said.