Free Without Warning by David Rosenfelt Page A

he said.
    “What a gentleman,” were the last words she would ever speak, as the forty-five caliber magnum shell exploded into her chest.

 
     
    After the shot rang out, there was only silence. Matt crouched to the side of the open door, hearing and seeing nothing. The house was dark, but the porch light was on, and someone inside could have seen him.
    He looked over at Rachel, who had been blown back by the force of the bullet. The entire front of her body was covered in blood, and she was silent and unmoving. While he was not an expert on gunshot wounds, he couldn’t imagine that she was still alive.
    He couldn’t go in the house, not knowing who was in there waiting for him, so he ran to his closest neighbor, crouching low as he did so. That neighbor, Laura Rickman, had come out after hearing the deafening noise, thinking it was an explosion of some kind.
    When she saw Matt, and the way he was running, she grew scared. “Matt? Are you okay?”
    “Call 9-1-1,” he said, gasping the words out. “Tell them someone has been shot. We need an ambulance.”
    She ran into the house to make the call, and Matt positioned himself behind a bush, so he could see the front door of his own house. He could still see Rachel lying there in the dim light, but there was no movement from her or anyone else.
    Within minutes, the area was filled with arriving police cars, as well as an ambulance. Matt went out to meet them, and saw that Jake Robbins was among the first to get there. He quickly took them behind the cars, and then laid out the story as it happened.
    “And you’re sure the shooter didn’t leave?” Jake asked.
    Matt shook his head. “He didn’t leave through the front, but I can’t speak for the back.”
    “Is she alive?”
    “I don’t know,” Matt said. “It’s hard to believe that she could be. She got hit right in the chest. It was horrible.”
    Jake instructed two officers to train a spotlight on the front door of the house. Rachel was, of course, still lying there, but they couldn’t see any movement in the house.
    At that point Hank’s car pulled up, and he jumped out and came over to them. “We need a state SWAT team,” Jake said.
    Hank nodded. “I’m on it.”
    “And we have to get that woman out of there.”
    Hank looked over and took in the scene, then said, “Let’s do it.”
    He made the call about the SWAT team, and then he and Jake quickly decided how they would approach the house. One of them would angle toward the front door from each side, with Jake carrying a stretcher. Other officers, guns trained, would be watching the interior through the door, to detect any movement. In order for someone to shoot Jake or Hank, they would have to be visible to those officers.
    But there was definitely going to be a few moments while they put Rachel on the stretcher that they would be exposed. There was simply nothing to do about that; waiting for the SWAT team to arrive and neutralize anyone inside was simply not an option, since there was always the chance that Rachel was still alive.
    They headed for the house, and when they were in position, they looked back at the other officers, to make sure there was no reason to hold up.
    Then Jake gave the signal, and they jumped out to where Rachel was lying, which was in the potential line of fire. Within just a few seconds, they had her on the stretcher and were carrying her off to the waiting medics.
    Jake had no doubt that the effort had been in vain. He had gotten a look at the horrible wounds Rachel had suffered and knew that they were too late. He was sure that had they gotten there ten seconds after she was shot, it would have been too late.
    The dire diagnosis was confirmed by the paramedics a few moments later. There were no vital signs at all, and though they quickly rushed her to the hospital and started resuscitation efforts, everyone knew it was going to be a futile effort.
    The state police SWAT team arrived, and, as per protocol, Jake