“She’s been shot.” Gavin pressed two fingers to her neck. “I have a pulse. Quick, grab a towel from the kitchen but touch as little as possible getting it.”

Sarah stuck her phone in her pocket and bolted toward the kitchen, ignoring the squawking from the dispatcher and the pain the quick movement sent through her side. She snagged the hand towel hanging on the oven door. When she turned, her elbow knocked into a pill bottle on the counter. The top popped off and pills rolled out.

She darted back to Gavin, and he folded the cloth, then pressed it to the woman’s chest. “Thanks.”

“I knocked over a pill bottle.”

“Just leave them. We’ll tell the officers what happened when they get here. You see any gloves?”

“Not yet. I’ll look.”

Opening and closing the drawers with the hem of her shirt just in case there were prints left by whoever shot the woman, she finally found a box of rubber gloves. She pulled four out and yanked two over her hands, grabbed another hand towel, then rushed back to Gavin and handed him the gloves. “Might as well use them if you have them.”

“Thanks.” He pulled them on. “Stay here with her and press on the wound. She’s lost a lot of blood, but her pulse is steady, and if we can get her to the hospital, I think she’ll be okay. I’m going to check the rest of the house.”

“You think whoever did this is still here?”

“Need to figure that out and see if Brianne’s back there.”

Sarah nodded. “Go, I’ve got this.” She replaced the bloody towel with the clean one and pressed. Prayers whispered from her lips. The sirens in the distance sent relief shooting through her. The woman moaned and her eyelids flickered.

“Hey,” Sarah said, “help is almost here. You’re going to be okay.”

Another soft moan, but the woman’s lashes never lifted.

Belatedly, she remembered the dispatcher and lifted her phone to her ear. “Did you hear all of that?”

“I heard. How’s she doing?”

“She’s still breathing, but I’m not a doctor, so it’s hard for me to—”

A sound behind Sarah snagged her attention, and she glanced over her shoulder to see a man step out of the closet next to the back door. For a moment, her throat froze. His dark eyes locked on hers, his gaze startled, surprised. He backed toward the door, then hesitated. Cursed.

Paralysis fled. “Gavin!”

He lunged at her. Sarah lurched sideways. Her heel caught the edge of the rug and she stumbled, sending her phone flying and her hip crashing onto the hardwood floor. Pain arched through her and she gasped even as she tried to roll.

Hard hands stopped her and yanked her to her feet. A gun pressed against her temple and a forearm jammed against her throat, choking off her scream.