Page 3 of Secret Stalker

Chapter Two

Bex flattened herself against a cereal box endcap, pressing both of her hands against her mouth to keep from crying out.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

Bam! Bam!

She dropped to the floor, her breaths coming out in short pants. What in the world was happening? Who would fire guns inside a Piggly Wiggly? The answer, of course, was obvious. Someone was holding up the place. But she still couldn’t believe it was happening. Not here. Not in the tiny town of Destiny.

Thank God Max had plenty of time to have left before the gunman or gunmen had shown up.

And wasn’t that a crazy thought, being glad the police officer was out of harm’s way when he was the one person who might have been able to help her and any others trapped inside?

A scream sounded from the front of the store. Someone else shouted. Footsteps pounded down an aisle not too far from where Bex lay on the floor. If someone was holding up the store, wouldn’t they have forced the manager to open the safe in the front office? They wouldn’t be running down aisles and still shooting minutes later, would they?

Bam! Bam!

That sounded like a pistol.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat.

Automatic gunfire.

She pressed a hand to her throat. Was that a gunfight? Whoever had the pistol was at a serious disadvantage.

Another shout sounded. More footsteps.

Bam!

“Where is she?” a man yelled. “She wasn’t with the ones who locked themselves in the cooler.”

“How the hell should I know? Reggie said she was ready to check out. She should have been up front when we got here.”

“Find her. And find that stupid cop. He’s screwing everything up and I’m gonna blow his brains out.”

Oh, no. Please, God, don’t be talking about Max.

But in her gut, she knew they were. He was the only policeman she’d seen in the store just a few minutes before the gunmen came in. No one else could have gotten here this fast. He either hadn’t left when she’d thought he had, or he’d run back into the store when he saw the gunmen go inside.

Footsteps sounded again, much closer this time. If they turned down the back aisle that ran the width of the store, they’d see her. She had to move, hide. Or better yet, find Max and get them both out of the store.

Right, like she was GI Jane or something. The only danger she faced on a typical day was whether she might get a splinter in her finger from one of the pieces of furniture that she sold at her antique store.

Move, Bex. Hurry!

She sent up a quick, silent prayer then pulled herself forward in an army crawl.

* * *

MAXCROUCHEDDOWN, his pistol out in front of him while he whispered into his cell phone and made his way down aisle five toward the front of the store again.

“Searching for remaining three gunmen. What’s your ETA?” he asked his SWAT team lead, Dillon Gray.

He reached the end of the aisle and looked left, then right, before crouching by the endcap. He paused, listening for sounds that might indicate where the gunmen were hiding.

“Roger that,” he whispered in answer to the instructions over the phone. “I’ve got five customers and four employees locked in the cooler from the inside with good cover. There are coats in there, so they’re okay for now. Searching for additional customers. You guys need to get in here ASAP, full SWAT gear. These yahoos may be stupid and disorganized. But that makes them unpredictable and dangerous.”

A noise sounded from the east end of the store. He looked down the next aisle. Clear. He jogged to another endcap, heading east.

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