4
It wasn’t until I was on the ground that I realized I’d also heard the passing bullet, something I’d almost attributed to the wind and thought nothing more about. The bark of the gunshot echoed in my head.
The sound came several more times as bullets impacted the mesa behind us.
I wanted to go back into the cave for cover because the surrounding sagebrush and trees wouldn’t stop bullets. Going down like we had might temporarily keep us out of view of the sniper, but we didn’t have long before he’d move to a better location where he could take us out.
But just as I was about to suggest this, Rikter went in the other direction, crawling on his belly toward a large boulder I hadn’t paid attention to on our way past a few moments before. But it was now our lifeline.
I belatedly realized as I followed that heading into the cave would’ve been the wrong decision because that would’ve enabled the shooter to pin us down.
While this wasn’t the first time I’d been shot at, I’d never come under fire in a situation quite like this. I was out of my depth, not unlike how Rikter felt he was out of his when he found the place crawling with cops.
If I’m going to get shot at, better with Rikter than not, I thought, but then I repressed a snort. Of course, it’s probably happening because of him.
I stayed as close to the ground as I could manage. The red dirt dug into my skin as prickles from the sagebrush, rocky ground, and other things scraped me in passing.
As soon as Rikter had his back against a large rock, he pulled out his phone.
Shouldn’t he go for his gun?
A bullet sped by overhead as he typed in his code, but he didn’t look the slightest bit concerned that the shooter was trying to keep us pinned down.
I envied this.
My blood raced. I’d been perspiring profusely the entire time we’d been out in the miserable heat, but I was suddenly not as sweaty and figured that I was at risk of becoming dehydrated. My heart fluttered with every slight gust, afraid the killer had gotten a bead on us.
The drone, I realized as I put my back against the rock right beside Mike, trying to make myself as small as I could. It was barely big enough for both of us, assuming the shooter was directly behind and not too far to either side. If he was, he’d already be shooting at us.
Rikter handed me his pistol.
“Fire a shot, doesn’t matter where—” He considered it. “On second thought, make sure it hits the ground fifty feet from here.” He looked like he was about to add something else but shook his head.
At another time, I might’ve been amused he was concerned about me shooting without considering where the bullet would go. I had enough sense to ensure my shot had a backstop.
Holding the pistol with two hands while staying completely behind the boulder as I controlled my breathing, I fired while aiming at the base of a sagebrush grouping fifty feet away. Obviously, the idea was to make the killer move in response to the gunshot so that Rikter could find him with the drone.
Rikter frowned as he peered at his overhead view on the phone. “Nothing. Do it again, twice more. Try a couple different directions. Maybe you’ll get lucky and one will come close.”
I aimed for another bunch of sagebrush further out and fired before turning by twenty degrees and doing the same thing.
“Still nothing. That wasn’t likely to work anyway.” Rikter zoomed in on his phone and stared. Seconds passed. “There he is, crawling.” Rikter pointed at the screen, looking at the map and zooming it out further to see where he was in relation to us.
“What’s he doing?” I asked.
“Running now.” Rikter grabbed his pistol from me and crouched on his feet as he looked around the side of the boulder.
I expected him to open fire. And it looked for a moment like he might as he sighted in on the shooter, finger flicking to the trigger before removing it. Instead, he took off at a sprint, leaving behind his bag. I considered waiting, but the last thing I wanted was for something to happen to Rikter while I was left with nowhere to go.
I grabbed his bag and made a beeline for the Jeep while ducking and keeping under cover as best I could. As I moved I kept Rikter in my peripheral vision. I caught a glimpse of him holding his phone, and then when I saw him right after that, he only had his pistol in hand.
When a shot rang out, I went for cover. As I did I realized Rikter had opened fire. I’d seen another glimpse of him through the brush as I’d gone down. He probably wanted to make the killer go to ground to give him time to catch up. I couldn’t tell if it worked, but Rikter didn’t stop for a second in his relentless pursuit of the man.
I took a deep breath and sprinted toward the twisted heap of automobile metal with Mike’s bag bouncing off my side. As soon as I arrived, I crouched for cover.
A bullet put a hole through the rusted metal above my head as I did. The pinging noise drew my attention. I hadn’t even heard the gunshot.
You don’t hear the bullet that gets you.
It would’ve gone straight through my chest if I’d still been standing.
I gasped, looking at the hole. A gnarled sagebrush branch dug into my side. I was on top of an uncomfortable jagged rock but didn’t dare stand.
Had the killer gotten Rikter?
I pulled out my phone and called Troy Jackson, the man on my investigatory team in charge of security. My main thought was that I wanted somebody to know what happened so my family wasn’t left with unanswered questions. It wasn’t until after the phone rang that I realized I should’ve just called my wife.
Can’t think like that. Must fight!
I sifted through Mike’s bag, looking for a backup pistol or maybe one of his homemade flash-bangs. I couldn’t imagine him leaving home without a backup, but it was probably on him, not here in his bag. All I had was a pocketknife.
“What is it, Hoffman?” Troy asked. I belatedly realized he’d answered on the first ring and said “Hello” but that I hadn’t processed it until now.
“I’m taking fire at a mesa outside Hurricane, Utah. This name won’t mean anything, but it’s also where Scott Edgar’s body was found. If I don’t make it, there’s a cave in the mesa that’s covered by a canvas flap.”
I took my bearings and opened another pocket in the bag while holding my phone with my shoulder. How many pockets did this thing have? Twenty? Fifty? It seemed like a hundred.
“It’s on the northeast side,” I continued. “In that cave you might find evidence about who did this.”
“This is about that call you got from Rikter?”
I’d forgotten Troy had called me while on my way to meet Rikter and that I’d told him what I was doing.
“Yes. Rikter is chasing the shooter. I’m on my way back to the Jeep and just got pinned down.”
“Describe your surroundings.”
In short sentences, I told him about the car, trees, sagebrush, road, and Jeep as I tore through the bag.
“What do you have?”
“My phone. Rikter’s bag which I’m searching for a gun. A pocketknife. That’s it. My plan was to get to the car where I have a pistol.”
Troy didn’t say anything for several long seconds. He was doing something in the background, but I couldn’t tell what. “Going for the Jeep is your best option. Get there as fast as possible. Once you do, just go, don’t waste time looking for your gun.”
This was all pretty obvious, but I was having difficulty thinking straight, so it was helpful.
A gunshot rang out, but thankfully, the bullet didn’t appear to hit anywhere near me. If it did, I didn’t hear where it landed.
“Could you tell where he was aiming?” Troy asked.
“No, it sounded like—”
I realized why he asked.
It indicated Rikter was alive. The shooter was focused on Rikter again. If I was quick, I might have an opportunity to get to the Jeep before the shooter noticed.
I opened another pocket. “Nothing again.”
Troy didn’t hesitate. “Go for the Jeep; keep your head down. Don’t give them time to figure things out. Keep moving and under cover to stay safe! Go now, now, now!” I slung Rikter’s bag over my shoulder before I dashed toward the Jeep.
