Laurel concentrated on the road. Her ears rang as she took the exit, zipping through a red light and weaving between vehicles toward the subdivision. The gate was open, so she drove through and caught sight of emergency vehicles down the road to the right, on the opposite side from where Abigail lived. She lurched to a stop behind two police cars and jumped out, rushing toward the melee.

Two paramedics were lifting Walter into the ambulance. Blood covered his shirt, and an oxygen mask had been placed over his nose. His eyes were closed and his body unresponsive. Another woman was shouting orders. The second he was loaded, the paramedics continued compressions with one squeezing in breaths on an Ambu bag. His shirt was open so they could monitor his heart.

Huck grasped Laurel’s arm and she halted.

Tears welled in her eyes and she sucked in the frigid air, forcing her brain to take control.

Aeneas barked and ran toward them with Monty right behind the dog.

“Status?” Huck asked.

Monty shook his head. “One FBI agent down and no signs of the shooter. I brought your rig and your dog.”

“Good.” Huck accepted the keys and whistled for the dog. Aeneas immediately calmed and followed Huck toward his truck, nestled against the curb.

The paramedics shut the ambulance doors and it drove off, siren screaming.

Time felt like it slowed. It was shock and adrenaline flooding her body, so she took them in, keeping her mind alert. They had to find Christine Franklin. Laurel’s gaze skimmed the two-story white home with its dark blue door. The porch was wide with a swing. A thick puddle of blood showed inside the open doorway on what looked like white tile.

Her senses of sound and smell came rushing back. The cold pierced her skin.

She yanked her phone to her ear.

“Agent Snow. This is my personal phone,” Deputy Director McCromby said.

“We have an officer down. Special Agent Walter Smudgeon,” she said, her voice crisp even though the blood was rushing through her ears so loudly she could hear it.

Two beats of silence echoed back. “What do you need?”

“I want the FBI crime technicians from the Seattle office here now. I don’t care what they have to drop. Get them here. Now.” She rattled off the address and then clicked off, striding toward uniformed officers who were securing the scene with crime tape. A quick glance at them confirmed they were Genesis Valley officers.

She paused at seeing Officer Zello. His handlebar mustache looked frozen. “You found the agent?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Zello said, his jaw set in a hard line. His partner handed him a wipe, and he tried to remove the blood from his hands. “Found the agent, searched the residence, and then administered first aid until the paramedics got here. Your agent was out the whole time and didn’t give us anything.”

Laurel nodded. “Thank you for helping him.”