Free Silent Partner by Stephen Frey Page B

Tucker’s shoulder and saw that they were nearing the end of the narrow section of the trail. Only a hundred yards and they’d be back on safe ground. “What do you mean?”
    “Well, he—”
    She barely heard the bullet as it ricocheted off a ledge a few feet above their heads. It sounded like nothing more than a hornet buzzing past as it caromed off a rock with an angry whine. Tucker pushed her roughly to the ground, jumped down after her, grabbed his rifle from the saddle holster, and dragged her behind a small rock, barking at her to lie as flat as she could.
    A split second later the next bullet came, striking the stallion in its massive black neck, destroying its windpipe and blowing a softball-sized hole out the other side. The huge animal staggered backward and to the left, frothing blood, then collapsed in front of them and tumbled off the side of the cliff.
    “Oh, my God!” Angela shouted, trying to burrow into the snow. “Where are the bullets coming from?”
    “Ahead!” Tucker lay beside her, aiming the rifle in the direction they’d been going. “Whoever’s up there probably wanted us to be on the horse when it went off the cliff.”
    “What are we going to do?”
    “Stay put for now. I don’t think they can get a clean shot at us if we stay low.”
    For five excruciating minutes they waited, pressed to the ground, but there were no more shots. Just the sound of the late afternoon wind wailing eerily through the canyon.
    “Follow me,” Tucker ordered in a low voice.
    “What?”
    “We’re going back the way we came. There’s a cave about fifty yards back. I’m gonna put you in it, then make certain whoever was shooting at us is gone.”
    “It’ll be dark in thirty minutes. Let’s wait until then,” she suggested, still breathing hard.
    “No good. Whoever it is might have night vision capability. We don’t. I’ve got to get you to safety.” Tucker motioned to her as he began crawling along the ground. “Come on.”
    “What am I doing here?” she whispered as she followed him across the snow, wondering if the next moment might be her last. She’d had a front row view of the last bullet tearing out the horse’s neck, and she didn’t want the same view of the next one tearing through John Tucker. Or her. Suddenly Jake Lawrence didn’t seem so paranoid.
    When they reached the cave, they scrambled inside, protected for the moment. The cave stretched thirty feet back into the mountain. It was no more than ten feet wide and six feet high at any point.
    “You’ll be safe in here,” Tucker assured her as they hunched down against the wall.
    “You’re not leaving me,” she said, anticipating what he was about to say.
    “Look, whoever shot at us probably took off, but I’m going to make sure. I don’t want you with me if he didn’t and I run into him,” he replied, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out the long-barreled .22 that had been on the Expedition’s dashboard last night. “Take this. If anybody approaches, shoot them. Don’t ask questions. Just aim and start pulling the trigger.”
    Angela took the revolver. Her father had taught her how to handle a gun when she was young. Before he had run off the road one night on his way home to the trailer park from an Asheville bar and killed himself in the spring of her senior year in high school. “I don’t like this.”
    “You’ll be fine,” Tucker said, checking the ammunition in the rifle. “Stay back in the cave, but keep checking both sides of the path, too. Like I said, you see anybody other than me, you start shooting. Here’s some extra ammo.” He reached into his coat and tossed a box of ammunition on the cave floor in front of her.
    “How will I know if someone on the trail is the person who shot at us?”
    “Believe me, no one else besides you and me ought to be up here right now. Anybody else is fair game.” He stuck his head out of the cave and peered both ways. “I won’t be gone long. If I’m