Free Ancient Echoes by Joanne Pence

him—he had tried to kill her in
Jerusalem!
    He noticed her. Several shots rang out in rapid succession.
Bonnetieu fell.
    Charlotte spun around a corner as a bullet slammed into the
wall where she stood moments before. She pulled the Glock from her handbag and
blindly fired back. Ahead of her narrow steps led to the ground floor. She ran
down.
    Guards shouted about the gunfire and the need to secure the
building. Immediately, a terrified tour group tried to push through an
emergency side exit, but a guard beat them to it and locked the door to prevent
the shooters from escaping. The public panicked.
    The museum rang with alarms, cries and shouts. People pushed
and shoved against the emergency exit. A man lifted a young girl into his arms
to prevent her from being smothered. A woman screamed when the crowd ripped her
son’s hand from hers. Several fainted from being pressed against the door
unable to breathe.
    When the guards re-opened the front entrance, the group
turned and ran toward it. One woman fell and was nearly trampled. Charlotte
watched, the gun hidden under her jacket. She didn’t see the shooter. She
suspected he had gone toward the main doorway and waited for her there.
    She broke away from the crowd and started down a different
corridor. Her mind replayed all that had passed. Al-Dajani. Bonnetieu. Her. Why?
    At the end of the hall, a man stood looking off to one side.
She noticed a wire from his ear to his jacket.
    She quietly backed up.
    Another alarm shrieked in the distance. The man turned and
saw her. His hand whipped under his jacket and came out holding a 9 mm
automatic. She whirled back to the crowd, pushing her way deep into it, bending
low, trying to hide. The human wave carried her
through the front gardens and out onto the street.
    The chisel-faced blond man, taller than most, remained in
the garden. Their eyes met and he knocked aside others as he strode toward her.
Part of her, cold and deadly, wanted to stay and fight. To
kill this killer. But too many innocent people stood between them.
    He didn’t care. To her horror, he raised his gun. She tried
to duck, to hide, as he fired. Beside her, a young man fell. Only then did she
feel a painful, burning sensation on her arm.

Chapter 13
     
    Idaho
    “WE CAN MOVE anytime,” Big Kyle
Barnes announced. The guides pulled the orange rafts away from bushes of
red-tinged sumac and bulrushes, and shoved them into the water. “Three students
and one teacher in each raft should work.”
    Rempart scowled at the ignorant guide's mistaken impression
of Melisse's position, then turned to his assistant
with a smile. “I can scarcely believe our good fortune at finding these rafts.
I can taste success already. If this works out, Melisse, it'll make big news
when we publish the find. You may be able to publish it with me. We'll see how
things go,” he announced with all the arrogance of a full professor holding a
graduate student’s future in the palm of his hand.
    “I appreciate that, Professor.” As she spoke, Melisse didn’t
look at Rempart, but watched Big Kyle and Skinny Buck check over the rafts.
    “You look nervous,” Rempart said. “Didn’t you grow up in
Montana? You should know about rafting. Besides, the guides said this is a creek.
It’s nothing to worry about.”
    She eyed the clear waters. “This so-called creek is already
wide and we don’t know how much wider it’ll become downstream. We’re close to
the Salmon River. The trip could turn treacherous very quickly.”
    “You must learn to be adventurous, Melisse!” Rempart said
with a laugh. “Let’s get going.”
    Melisse knew much more about the Salmon River than Rempart
ever imagined. It was known as “the river of no return” for a reason. It
meandered from its source near Sun Valley, northeast toward Montana and the
Bitterroot Mountains. There, it angled sharply westward and began a wild,
tumultuous 420 mile journey that slashed directly across the entire width and
heart of