With that thought he shoved all personal considerations aside. People were depending on him. Besides, he’d heard her whisper Gunnar’s name in the wake of the mess that had just gone down outside.
That snapped him back to attention. There’d been no more sounds after that first outburst. No more shouts or even barking from Lily. WTF was happening outside?
He released Yardley. “Go.”
Her fingers curled into his parka. “Don’t leave me behind this time.”
“I won’t.” One of the first things he learned in police academy was how to lie convincingly. He was just sorry he had to use it on her.
As she slipped sideways away from him, he turned toward the cafeteria area that led to the front of the building. Across the room slices of light from the security lamp cut through the glass panes of the double doors with push bars, illuminating twin wedges of wall and floor.
He stayed in shadow as he approached those slats of light, not wanting anyone looking to see him cross the windows. He heard a door open behind him. Good, Yard would be busy trying to locate things by touch alone. That would make her slow and methodical, her senses totally concentrated on the task before her.
He hunkered down and moved forward in a squat position to slip free the bottom door latch. Now he needed to free the top one. Above waist height, the closed doors provided only about eight inches of door frame between the glass inserts. He doubted even sideways he was a slim eight inches thick. His coat made him even bulkier.
He slipped off his jacket and then rose up just enough to peer over the bottom edge of one narrow glass panel and froze. Behind him he heard Yard opening a cabinet. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have noticed so slight a sound. But with his every sense online and straining for information, it sounded like she was prying up floorboards with a crowbar. He needed to move, and quickly, before she realized he’d left.
He went back to surveillance of the world beyond the door. The security lamp threw its bright-white light in an arc around the parking lot, making the snow a brilliant carpet embedded with diamonds. His vehicle and Yard’s were thrown into high relief, with stark sharp shadows angled behind them. In one of those shadows something moved.
Kye held his breath. Something or someone was on the ground. It looked like a big sack. But he suspected it was a living being. No way to tell if it was man or dog. The noises they’d heard earlier had had consequences.
Time to act.
He extended an arm straight up over his head and then inched his body up the door, trying to keep himself inside the protective span of the frame. The effort to move slowly and keep his body perfectly erect had his calves burning by the time his fingers touched the bottom of the latch. He pulled down hard and twisted.
The sound echoed through the cafeteria but he didn’t have time to worry about that. Gun in hand he pushed through the door to the outside. If he didn’t move now, Yard would try to follow him. If he wasn’t there, instinct would force her to be more careful and go back the way they’d come. By then, with any kind of luck, he could have a read on whatever the hell was going on.
He skittered along the wall, in full sight of anyone who happened to be looking toward the classrooms. He hoped against holy hell that whoever had fired that shot was riveted on the house. Not looking for phantoms in the snow.
He’d never moved faster in his life with the gun out in front of him, fisted in both hands as his boots churned up the ankle-deep snow. His goal was the back of the bunkhouse that lay between the classrooms and Yard’s home. If he made it that far, he could duck into the shadows again, with the relative safety of the building to shield him.
It struck him as he made the nearby wall of the bunkhouse that he’d forgotten something. His SAR parka lay on the floor in the cafeteria. No wonder he’d moved so easily. And now he felt the wind and snow in every part of his upper body. He was wearing nothing but boots, a pair of cargoes, and a sleeveless undershirt.
Way to go, Honolulu Boy.
At least he’d lost the big fat white cross marking the back of his bright-red coat.
Small mercies.
A bigger issue was getting his breath back when he had to gulp air through his mouth. If he got a chance he might go back and break Purdy’s nose, just to even things up. It slowed him down to have to breathe this way. Any exertion made his face throb.
He reached halfway for the tape before he changed his mind. Bleeding all over himself wasn’t a better solution. And the cold would make his sinuses burn like a sumbitch. Acknowledge then disregard. He dropped his hand.