Chapter Seventeen

The bullet slammed into a heap of rocks right next to where Jemma was standing. Mere inches away. And the sound of the blast and Hayes’ shouted warning were more than enough to get her moving.

Jemma dropped to the ground, cursing the pain that jolted through her when her vest rammed into the tender bruise on her collarbone. Still, it was mere pain and not a fatal shot.

More bullets came, thick blasts that tore through the air and smacked into the limestone ground.

Hell.

Was Cordelia doing this?

Jemma had caught just a glimpse of her stepmother just moments earlier, but she hadn’t been able to see if the woman was carrying a weapon. But why else would she be out here if not to kill them?

“Everyone, get into the pit,” Hayes ordered.

She had two horrifying thoughts—that he wanted them to get in there with the rotting bodies and that he was still in the line of fire.

But thankfully he wasn’t.

Hayes had already taken cover behind an outcropping of rocks, too, and he was motioning toward one of the other pits. It was damn close to the edge of the bluff, but it was deep enough that several people could easily fit inside.

Dr. Logan and the CSIs scrambled into the pit, just as more shots continued. Instead of focusing on the potential threat on them or the nightmarish images of the other attacks, Jemma instead concentrated on trying to pinpoint the shooter. There were so many trees and shrubs, but she thought their attacker was in some mountain cedars that were straight ahead.

Hayes must have thought that was the position, too, because he levered himself up from the rocks, and he fired in that exact direction. Jemma rolled to the side enough for her to do the same. Hayes shot her a glance, maybe to warn her to stay down, but, of course, there was no way she could do that. This attack was no doubt aimed at her, and she had to do something to stop it.

Together, Hayes and she returned a volley of gunfire, and it must have been effective since their attacker stopped shooting. Jemma figured that was only temporary, but she had to hope they’d managed to shoot the SOB so he or she couldn’t continue trying to kill them.

With the silence closing in around her, Jemma listened, trying to shut out the sound of her own heartbeat thudding in her ears. Her ragged breathing was loud, too. But even over those sounds, she had no trouble hearing Ruby speak through the earpiece.

“Who’s firing at you?” Ruby blurted.

“Unknown,” Hayes responded.

“Are you hurt?” the woman pressed.

“Not for the time being. But Cordelia’s here in the woods,” Hayes quickly tacked onto that.

“Shit,” Ruby muttered. “No one’s at the Salvetti estate, and there are signs of a struggle,” Ruby paused a heartbeat. “There’s a body”

“A body,” Jemma said on a gasp. “My father?”

“No. My guess is this guy is a bodyguard. We’re looking for your father,” Ruby assured her. “And we’ll head your way now.”

Jemma wondered if Cordelia had done something to him. If she could have even killed him. But those questions were put on hold when she heard the woman in question shout.

“I’m not the one shooting at you,” Cordelia yelled.

Jemma muttered, “Yeah, right.”

However, Cordelia’s voice hadn’t come from near those mountain cedars but rather far to the left of them. And she didn’t sound like someone launching an attack. Her voice was a tangle of fear and nerves. She was sobbing as well, but Jemma reminded herself that it could all be an act. This could be a ploy to try to lure her out so that Cordelia could try to finish her.

“Someone has your father,” Cordelia called out. Her voice cracked. “Oh, God. Someone has him.”

“Who the hell are you talking about?” Hayes shouted back. “Who has Stefano?”

More sobbing from Cordelia. “I don’t know. When I got home, Stefano wasn’t there. I found his bodyguard dead, and he had a note on his chest, saying Stefano was taken because of me.”

“Because of you?” Jemma questioned.

“Yes, because of your mother’s death.” Cordelia’s words were rushed together with those gasps of breath. “But I didn’t kill her, I swear. That was Brooks.”

Jemma believed it was indeed Brooks’ doing. Others might not buy that though, but she couldn’t imagine anyone using her mother’s murder to spur what was going on now.

“The note also warned me not to contact the cops and to bring fifty thousand dollars to these coordinates or Stefano would die. I’ve got the money, and I used a hiking GSP app on my phone to get here,” she added in an even louder voice.

Fifty grand. Considering her father’s financial worth, that wasn’t much, probably about the amount he would keep in his home safe for emergencies. But maybe this wasn’t about money. Perhaps this was about getting Cordelia out here, to this exact spot so she could be framed for the murders.

If Cordelia wasn’t the killer, that is.

But Jemma still hadn’t ruled the woman out.

“Have the other teams reached Duane and Royce yet?” Jemma asked, the question meant for the earpiece.

“Negative on Duane,” Angel responded. “We’re still trying to get through the gates at the school.”

“Negative on Royce as well,” Shaw answered. “We’re about ten minutes out from his place in San Antonio. According to his assistant, Royce is working from home today.”

That was possible. But Royce could also be in the woods. And he might even have been the one to do something horrible to her father.

Jemma couldn’t deal with the thought of her father possibly being dead. No. She couldn’t go there. She just had to hope that he was all right.

“I have the money,” Cordelia shouted again. “Just let Stefano go, and I’ll give it to you.”

That was a good touch, if Cordelia was indeed the killer. It sounded earnest, like a woman pleading for her husband’s life.

“Stefano?” Cordelia called out. “If you can hear me, please let me know you’re safe.”

Her father didn’t respond. No one did. Well, not with words anyway. But a gunshot tore through the air again.

“The shooter changed positions,” Hayes muttered through the earpiece.

Yes, he or she had. This last shot hadn’t come from the mountain cedars but to the left of them. More in the direction of where they’d heard Cordelia’s voice.

“Stefano?” Cordelia shouted. “Please—”

The sound of more gunfire drowned her out. Three more bullets. And these weren’t coming anywhere near Hayes or her. No. They seemed to be landing in Cordelia’s direction.

Cordelia’s blood-curdling scream echoed through the woods, and then the woman made a sound. A gasp of pain. The kind of gasp someone would make if they’d been seriously injured.

Or faking.

There was some movement to the left of the mountain cedars, and Hayes and Jemma automatically took aim there. But it wasn’t the shooter.

Cordelia tumbled out of the trees.

Her face had no color, and there was blood spreading over the right sleeve of her taupe shirt. Groaning in pain, she tumbled into the shrubs.

“Help me,” Cordelia pled through the groans and the sobs.

Jemma could no longer see the woman’s face or her injury, but she appeared to have been shot in the arm. That might or might not be a fatal wound if it was the real deal.

If .

It would be fairly easy to use fake blood to mimic an injury like this. But why? Was Cordelia doing this to lure them out for an easier shot? If so, Jemma hadn’t seen a gun in the woman’s hands.

“What the hell is going on?” Ruby asked through the earpiece.

“To be determined,” Hayes let her know. “Cordelia might have been shot. Moving in for a closer look.”

Jemma was about to tell Hayes to stay put, that this could be a trap, but there was some more movement in the trees. About ten yards to Cordelia’s right, the low-hanging branches twitched on one of the mountain cedar.

Moments later, someone stepped out.

Her father.

And he wasn’t alone.

There was someone standing behind him. Someone wearing a ski mask, and that someone had a gun pressed to her father’s head.