CHAPTER THREE

Rachel blinked sand from her eyes, trying to focus through the haze of pain. Her shoulder throbbed in time with her racing heart, hot blood soaking her shirt. The two of them hunkered down behind the shrubbery and north-facing sand dune.

Rachel breathed slowly, keeping her heartbeat slow.

"Let me see." Ethan's voice was tight with worry as he carefully peeled back the fabric.

Rachel gritted her teeth against a groan. "Just a graze," she managed. "I'm fine. Bullet didn’t connect with meat.”

Ethan didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue. His eyes scanned the surrounding dunes, searching for any sign of the sniper. "We can't stay here. That brush won't hide us for long."

Rachel knew he was right. The sniper had them pinned down, exposed. It was only a matter of time before he found the perfect angle to finish the job.

She pushed herself up on her good arm, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over her. "We need to get to those rocks." She nodded toward a cluster of boulders jutting from the base of a nearby dune. "Better cover."

Ethan helped her to her feet, his hand firm on her uninjured arm. Together, they half-ran, half-stumbled toward the rocks, flinching at every crack of the rifle.

The boulders weren't much, but they were better than nothing. Rachel collapsed against the rough stone, her breath coming in harsh pants. Ethan crouched beside her, his eyes still scanning the dunes.

The sprint to the rocks served a second purpose, though. The gunshots were warning signals to the cops at the crime scene. The killer was on a timer—all the backup was on Rachel and Ethan’s side.

"What now?" he asked, his voice low.

A flash of movement caught her eye, and she froze. But it was just a hawk, wheeling high overhead, its wings spread wide against the cloudless sky.

Rachel let out a slow breath, forcing herself to relax. She glanced at her shoulder, confirming her instincts.

The bullet had grazed her, leaving a trail of blood but not hitting anything vital. She'd live. For now.

"We wait," she replied, staring at the dune where the sniper lay hidden. "Backup's on its way. We just have to stay alive until they get here."

Ethan kept glancing in concern at her shoulder.

"Stay down," she ordered, her eyes never leaving the dune ahead as she reached for her radio.

"Blackwood to dispatch," she said, her voice steady despite the pain in her shoulder.

"Dispatch here," came the crackling response.

"We're pinned down," Rachel said, keeping her voice low. "Sniper fire at our location."

"Acknowledged, Blackwood," dispatch replied. "Backup is en route. We heard the shots. How many assailants?"

“One confirmed shooter. Possibly more.”

Rachel slumped back against the rocks, the adrenaline rush slowly wearing off. She felt raw and exposed under the glaring sun, like a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

“The gunshots have stopped,” she murmured.

Ethan was still watching her, his gun clutched tightly where he kept cover.

"Rachel, you sure you're okay?" he asked. Rachel nodded without taking her eyes off their surroundings, her fingers feeling for her own firearm.

"I'm good," she said again, mirroring the lie from earlier. She wasn't fine. Pain throbbed in her shoulder with every beat of her heart.

Ethan's lips thinned, but he didn't respond. Instead, he shifted so his back pressed against hers, creating a watch on all sides.

In the quiet that followed, even the desert seemed to hold its breath. The sharp chirp of a distant bird, the whisper of wind through the scrub-bushes...it was hard to imagine anything so mundane in this deadly game of hide and seek.

She could hear shouts and radios behind them now as backup came closer. But no more gunshots.

“Just stay tight. They’ll be here in a couple minutes.”

But she tensed at Ethan’s words. “He’s not shooting,” she whispered.

“Rachel, just stay put.”

“He’s moving,” she said. “He’s going to get away.”

“Rachel…” Ethan’s voice increased in volume, a warning in his tone.

But she just shook her head, frustration mounting. It was a gamble. If he was still out there, peering down his scope, she’d catch a bullet if she emerged.

But if he was running… then by staying put, she was only letting him get away.

“Rachel!” Ethan said, louder, clearly sensing her intentions.

She made her decision.

Rachel pushed off against the rock, her body coiling like a spring. Her shoulder protested with sharp jabs of pain, but she ignored it. She was done with sitting and waiting.

Before Ethan could stop her or even say anything more, she was already up and running across the open desert, her boots kicking up clouds of dust as she headed straight for the sand dune where the sniper had been hiding.

“Rachel!” She heard Ethan shout after her, his voice full of both anger and fear. But she kept running, her breath harsh in her ears, her heart pounding like a drum.

She knew she was making herself an easy target; that if the sniper chose to take another shot, there would be practically nothing stopping him from doing so. But he didn't. There were no more gunshots ringing out across the desert.

She’d been right.

He was running.

Her teeth flashed like a wolf’s on the hunt.

Rachel risked a glance over her shoulder to see the backup vehicles just arriving, their blue and red lights flashing in stark contrast to the golden browns and yellows of the desert terrain.

She reached the top of the dune just in time to see a figure dressed in dark clothes scrambling aboard an all-terrain vehicle parked on the other side. The engine roared to life before Rachel had a chance to shout for him to halt.

“Stop!” Her voice echoed across the dunes but it was drowned out by the ATV’s engine as it revved louder before shooting off into the distance, kicking up plumes of dust and sand behind.

Rachel pulled up her weapon, bracing it against her good shoulder. She only had one shot at this

She took in a deep breath to steady her aim, her heartbeat pounding rhythmically in her ears. She squeezed the trigger once...twice. Her bullets whistled through the arid air, striking the terrain around her mark.

A flinch from the fleeing figure told her she'd been close. But not close enough. The ATV sped into an expanse of dusty haze, disappearing from her line of sight.

Cursing under her breath, Rachel holstered her gun and keyed the radio at her shoulder again. "Blackwood to dispatch," she panted, "Suspect on an ATV fleeing west."

"Understood, Blackwood," came the prompt reply. "Assets are en route. APB issued. Describe vehicle.”

"Green, mid-sized model, heavy terrain tires," she replied, her gaze fixed on the fading dust cloud the escapee had left behind. "No visible plates."

"Copy that, Blackwood. Stay where you are, medical team is en route to your location."

Rachel cut the connection, dropping her hand to her side as she watched the cops swarm the area. Her shoulder throbbed, a stark reminder of her near miss.

Ethan jogged over to her then, his face etched with relief and worry.

"Thought I told you to stay put," he said gruffly.

"I did think about it," she responded dryly, wincing as a jolt of pain shot through her shoulder. The adrenaline was wearing off, and every movement was becoming a chore.

He didn’t seem satisfied with her answer but held off from further chiding. His focus was on her injury now, his brow furrowing at the sight of blood that had soaked through part of her uniform shirt.

“Medic’s almost here,” he said quietly.

Rachel nodded, but her attention was elsewhere. She scanned the expanse before them and felt a twinge of disappointment. Their perp was gone, and all they had were tire tracks and bullet shells.

The ATV’s engine echoed in the distance–a taunting reminder that their quarry had slipped through their fingers. But Rachel wasn't one to easily admit defeat.

“He won’t get far,” she muttered more to herself than Ethan.

A gust of hot desert wind blew sand into Rachel's eyes as she surveyed the deserted dunes around her. Glancing back toward the direction they had come from, Rachel spotted cops in full sprint.

"Should've waited for backup," Ethan muttered, sending a concerned glance towards Rachel's bloodied arm.

“I winged him,” she said.

“He winged you.”

“I repaid the favor.”

Ethan stared after the dust trail in the desert. “You sure you hit him?”

She nodded once. “Positive. I hit him.”

“Just the one?”

“Only spotted one.”

“Looked like a cartel guy?”

“Couldn’t tell from this distance.”

Ethan sighed, waving over one of the medics.

"Are you okay?" a young officer called as he approached them, worry etched on his face.

She managed to muster up a small smile for him. "Just a scratch, rookie."

Ethan rolled his eyes but didn't comment, clearly allowing Rachel her tough act despite the rising concern in his own eyes.

As the medics started to rush over, Rachel's gaze moved back onto the empty expanse of desert. She could feel her blood pumping through her veins, an odd mix of frustration and determination fueling her. Their perp was gone, but they had left tracks. And she intended to follow them.

"Just hang tight," Ethan murmured, helping her sit down on the sand dune as the medical team finally reached them.

The medic, a stocky man with graying hair, hurried over to them, his eyes immediately drawn to the blood staining Rachel's shirt. His brows furrowed in a grimace as he began to examine her, applying gentle pressure around her injury.

Rachel winced but refused to show any further signs of discomfort as she held Ethan's gaze.

Ethan gave a curt nod as he stepped aside to let the medic do his work. His gaze drifted off to the west, towards the trail of dust hanging heavy in the Texas heat.

The medic worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning Rachel's wound and wrapping it in thick bandages. He advised her not to move it much and promised that an ambulance was on its way. Rachel thanked him but dismissed him quickly, turning back to look out at the desert.

There wasn’t a chance in hell she would get into an ambulance.

“He’s wounded,” she said. “He’ll need help soon.”

He frowned. “You think he has contacts nearby?”

She shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Her shoulder throbbed, but she paid it no mind

. The heat was unrelenting, pouring over them like hot oil. She looked back at Ethan, who was now walking through the crime scene with the officers, picking up spent shells and bagging them. Steely resolve settled in her gut. Whoever this sniper was, they weren’t going to get away. Not on her watch.

She brought up her binoculars and scanned the horizon once more for any sign of movement. Nothing but swirling sand and the shimmering heat of the desert.

"Rachel," Ethan called out as he walked over, an evidence bag in hand, "You need to let the medics take you in."

She ignored his concern, her gaze still fixated on the distant horizon where she thought she saw a blip of movement.

"I need you to head back," she said curtly, handing him the binoculars without looking at him.

Ethan didn't miss a beat. "And let you chase after some phantom all by yourself? I don't think so," he countered.

Rachel finally tore her eyes away from the horizon to give him a pointed look. “I know this terrain. I know how to move through the desert.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t?”

She sighed.

“We’ve got police helicopters inbound,” Ethan said. “We’ll catch him.”

Rachel just scowled, her shoulder still throbbing as the bandage was tied off.

She gave a quick, frustrated shake of her head. The desert was big. And the sniper had the advantage of an ATV.

“They better find him,” Rachel muttered under her breath. “They better.”