Miss No One by Mark Ayre (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

what kind of cop you want to be, but if the answer you reach means you can't let me tend to Gary, you'll have to shoot me dead cause that's the only thing that'll stop me trying to save his life."

For at least a few seconds, this speech stunned Kilman into silence. Good. Gave Abbie time to think. Gary was lying on his back but had been side on to the door when he had tried to race past the L-block. Not a good position to be in when passing a decent marksman. A shot through your side was much less likely to miss your valuable organs than a shot through your chest.

But Gary had been lucky.

He lay on his back, wheezing but not crying or screaming. His eyes were unfocused. When the bullets had hit, his brain had entered pain overload. His body had gone into shock, which for now was dampening both fear and pain.

"I'm in trouble," he whispered.

"Don't worry about it," she said, already whipping off her jacket. "I think you're going to be okay."

Somehow, he managed a smile. "Is that a lie?"

Abbie shook her head. "Some things I won't lie about."

"What's happening?" Kilman hissed. "What's the damage?"

Abbie was touched to hear actual concern in the cop's voice. Maybe the arsehole act was a front, which was a comforting thought.

Speaking with enough volume to carry to Kilman as well as Gary, but low enough that the shooter wouldn't hear, Abbie said, "You've taken one bullet to the shoulder and another..." she eased Gary forward a little. He winced but didn't cry out. "...in your lower back. No exit wounds, which is probably good in this instance. Stems the bleeding. There's plenty of damage but not loads of blood. We've got some time to get you to a hospital. I see no reason you won't live."

Having taken off her jacket, Abbie placed her second gun on the ground beside Gary. The coat she folded up small before asking Gary to tilt to one side again. She put her jacket beneath the gunshot wound in his back and asked him to press down as hard as he could.

"Got to keep that pesky blood inside."

As Gary did as asked, Abbie turned to Kilman.

"I need your jacket."

Despite the compassion she'd heard in his voice mere moments ago, Abbie half expected Kilman to argue against this directive. If only because he didn't like taking orders.

But he didn't argue. While he jerked his jacket from his back, Abbie raised her gun and pointed it to the building. How patient the shooter was being. She could hear him shifting. Knew he was as close as ever. Was he waiting, plotting? Or had he stopped for a cigarette break?

Kilman chucked over his jacket. As Abbie began folding it, the cop took a step forward, his gun still pointed at the building.

"I'm giving you one chance," he roared. "Armed response teams are seconds away. When they arrive, you're cooked. But if you drop your gun and come out with your hands above your head, we'll go easy on you. We'll take your freedom, but we won't take your life."

Silence fell. After a few seconds spent wondering if Kilman knew he was reversing the famous Braveheart quote, Abbie listened instead to the silence. There was a light breeze. The buildings around them were low. Abbie was sure she could hear cars driving to and fro over a mile away.

Having folded Kilman's jacket and pressed it to Gary's shoulder, she now took the hand of his uninjured arm and pulled it across his body.

"Seconds away," she whispered, loud enough that Kilman could hear. "That's what you said back there as well, but how far is the station? How long does it take these units to mobilise? It's been almost fifteen minutes since you made the call."

There was a pause from behind. Then Kilman said, "They'll be here."

Abbie had pressed Gary's hand to the jacket over his shoulder.

"I know it's difficult," she said. "But hold this as tight as you can." He did as he was told.

Her mind whirring, Abbie removed the almost spent clip from her gun and hit home a spare magazine. The second gun she collected and checked. As expected, it was fully loaded.

"I'm going out on a limb and assuming you're not corrupt, Kilman," said Abbie.

"I'm not corrupt," hissed the detective.

"Good, we're on the same page, which means we agree the uniform who told you they saw me wandering this way, waving my gun around for all to see, is corrupt."

"I'm not saying I agree with anything," said Kilman.

"But you're surprised we can't yet hear the armed response units racing our way. It's been over a quarter of an hour.”

This stumped Kilman. He was frustrated but didn't know what to say. This allowed Abbie to continue, all the time with her reloaded gun aimed towards the grey building, to the spot where she suspected Smoker might any second reappear.

"You won't agree this uniform is corrupt but let's agree they're under suspicion," said Abbie. "Either way, when you radioed, requested armed back-up, tell me the same person who told you I was here didn’t receive that request?"

Kilman's lack of response, that heavy silence, spoke volumes.

"Maybe now you'll agree they're corrupt," said Abbie.

"Armed response teams will be here any minute."

Someone laughed. It wasn't Abbie, Gary or Kilman.

"They want you as well," said Abbie.

"What?"

Taking her second gun, Abbie pressed the handle into Gary's hand, the one at the end of the injured arm. She slid his finger onto the trigger.

"It'll hurt like hell," she said, "but if anyone comes at you except Kilman or me, try to shoot them until their very, very dead. Or at least immobile."

Gary managed to nod but couldn't speak. Abbie still thought there was a good chance he would live if left alone. If someone approached him, she was far from sure he would have the strength to lift his arm, let alone focus on and shoot dead the oncoming threat. He might not even be able