The man whirled and fired a round at them. Stella answered with a burst from the AR-15. The shooter stumbled. She’d hit him. He recovered, though his pace was slower as he limped toward the barn. A few seconds later, a Camry roared out of the barn and over the field on the other side of the house. The vehicle fishtailed as it made a high-speed turn onto the road and sped away.

Sweat dripped into Brody’s eye, blurring his vision. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Did you get the plate number?”

“No. Too far.” Moving toward him, Stella used the radio on her collar to update dispatch and give a basic description of the vehicle and suspect.

“How’s Lance?” she asked without taking her eyes off the house.

“Hanging in,” Brody said.

Lance’s eyes were closed, but he was still breathing.

Brody’s heartbeat ran in triple time. His lungs heaved, and sweat poured down his spine as he turned his attention back to Lance.

“I think the bleeding is slowing,” Brody said, mostly for Lance’s benefit. Stella returned to the car for a blanket. She covered Lance’s shivering body.

“I’m dying,” he wheezed.

“No, you’re not.” Stella took his hand.

“We got this,” a voice said over Brody’s shoulder. An EMT. Brody turned. A paramedic unit and two state troopers were parked next to his vehicle. When had they arrived?

Brody and Stella stepped back and let the EMTs take over. A sudden wave of weakness swept over Brody as his adrenaline plummeted. He leaned on his thighs and waited for his vision to clear. Stella stumbled to the side of the road and heaved into the weeds. When his head settled, he moved back to his vehicle and sat on the front bumper. Stella joined him a few minutes later.

“You OK?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her voice lacked conviction. She stared at him. “You’re bleeding.”

Brody looked down. His hands were coated in blood. More red stained his clothes. “It’s not mine.”

“You have a cut on your forehead.”

“I can’t feel it.” Brody’s whole body was numb.

More police cars and an ambulance arrived. An EMT taped a piece of gauze over Brody’s cut. Emergency personnel loaded Lance into the back of the ambulance and drove away. He heard the whump-whump of helicopter blades. He covered his eyes and squinted at the sky. A news helicopter hovered overhead.

“Think he’s going to make it?” Stella asked.

“Lance?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know.” Brody turned to look at her. “You did good.”