In A Killer's Sights. Sandra Robbins

who’d said his name was Joe was there. “Settle down, Miss Anderson. Don’t get upset.”

      She tried to peer past him, to determine if she had really seen Dean’s face or just imagined it, but Joe’s body blocked her view. Her lips felt as if they were made of sandpaper when she licked them. “Dean?” Her voice wobbled as if she was begging the young man to assure her he was the only one with her.

      Instead he smiled and nodded. “Yes, Dean’s here. He says he’s your husband. Is that right?”

      “Ex-husband. Why is he here?”

      Joe glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “I think you might need to answer that.”

      The paramedic stepped back from the gurney, and Gwen’s stomach clenched when Dean maneuvered next to where she lay. “It’s really you!” she said weakly. “I thought I was dreaming.”

      “No, you weren’t dreaming.”

      He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. The muscles in his throat constricted as he swallowed, his gaze raking her face.

      He looked the same as he always had, yet different. Healthier. His face wasn’t as bloated, nor was his complexion as red as the last time she’d seen him. His lips quirked up at the corners in a smile she remembered so well.

      “I was leading a trail ride when I saw a man about to shoot you. Of course, I didn’t know it was you at first. But he...but he—” Dean’s voice cracked as if the words were lodged in his throat.

      Her heart pricked at the way his eyes darkened. “I know. I remember him pointing the gun and firing. How could he have missed? He was so close to me.”

      “He didn’t miss,” Dean said. “There was a metal clip holding your hair back. The bullet hit it and bounced off. It saved your life.”

      She closed her eyes and shuddered. “I’m alive just because I put it in before I left the motel this morning?” She raised her hand and ran her fingers through her hair. When she didn’t feel the clip, she frowned. “Where is it now?”

      “The police took it for evidence.” Dean leaned closer. “Had you ever seen this man before? Had he been following you, or did you just happen across him on the trail?”

      She shook her head. “He was wearing a mask, so I can’t be sure, but I don’t think I’ve ever laid eyes on him before I saw him dumping a body in the river. When he spotted me, he chased me back to the parking lot.”

      Dean’s eyes grew wide with shock. “Dumping a body?”

      “Yes. I took a picture of it, but then dropped my camera when I fell in the parking lot. Did the police find it?”

      “No. It wasn’t there.”

      She sighed. “That’s too bad. I had a clear angle from where I was standing on the cliff above the stream.”

      Dean gasped. “Did this guy see you take the picture? Is that why he followed you?”

      “Yes.”

      Dean raked his hand through his hair and gritted his teeth. “Gwen, you should have gotten out of there right away. You were married to a police officer long enough to know what happens when someone is witness to a crime.”

      She stared at him for a moment, the memory of how scared she’d been as she ran through the forest welling up in her mind. Her nostrils flared, and she tried again to push herself up from the gurney. “I think I learned a lot during that time,” she spit out. “Maybe we should just say I was married to you long enough, and leave it at that.”

      Joe reached out and grasped Dean’s shoulder. “Take it easy, man. She doesn’t need to get upset.”

      Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I wasn’t criticizing you, Gwen. It scares me to think what almost happened to you. I’m sorry.”

      She blinked to keep tears from rolling down her cheeks and pressed her palm against her forehead. “I’m sorry, too, Dean. I shouldn’t have reacted as I did.”

      Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then he sighed. “So, what are you doing in the Smokies?”

      “I work for a television network in New York. We’re going to do a documentary that features the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I had hiked up to the stream to take some pictures for research.”

      He smiled. “New York, huh? You finally made the big time like you wanted.”

      “It’s a good job,” she said. “But what about you? I didn’t think you’d ever come back to the Smokies.”

      He sighed and a sad smile curled his lips. “After the divorce, I decided I had to change something about my life. It was either get sober or die, and I chose to get sober. I turned my life over to God and got in a program for alcoholics. I haven’t had a drink in four years.”

      Her mouth fell open in surprise. “That’s wonderful, Dean! I’m so happy for you.”

      “I’m happy, too,” he said. “I decided to come back where I grew up. My grandfather needed some help with his farm, and I found I missed the mountains. And it felt great to be sober. So I moved in with Granddad, and we decided to turn the farm into a dude ranch. It’s doing very well.”

      She smiled. “It sounds like life has been good for you.”

      A sad expression darkened his eyes again. “My one regret was that you didn’t know about it. But now you do.”

      “Now I do,” she whispered.

      Dean opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a loud pop exploded outside the ambulance. The driver gave a startled cry as the vehicle swerved to the right, hit the loose gravel on the shoulder and veered back across the road.

      “Wilson!” Joe yelled. “What’s the matter?”

      “I think we’ve been shot at!” he shouted, just as a second pop sounded.

      Dean jumped to his feet and stared through the window that divided the back of the ambulance from the cab. “Are you hit?” he yelled.

      “No, but I think a tire was. I’m losing control!”

      The ambulance careened across the pavement, reached the other shoulder and plunged down the mountainside. Joe fell to the floor as compartments flew open and medical supplies tumbled out. Gwen screamed, and Dean grabbed her as she rolled from the gurney. They both dropped to the floor as the vehicle, picking up speed, bounced past trees and low-hanging limbs on its journey down the slope.

      Gwen felt Dean’s arms tighten around her as they crouched there, his body shielding hers. Then, without warning, the ambulance came to a jarring halt as it collided with something solid, most likely a tree or a rock.

      The impact shook the vehicle with such force that she, Dean and Joe flew as if they’d been shot from a cannon into the walls and then back to the floor. She could hear the paramedic moaning near the panel at the front, but Dean lay next to her unmoving.

      Frantic, she grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Dean! Are you okay?” When he didn’t answer, she shook him again. “Dean! Dean! Wake up.”

      A low moan came from Joe’s direction. She tried to raise her head to see if he was conscious, but Dean’s body blocked her view. “Joe! Are you okay?”

      No answer. She tried calling out to the driver, too, but there was no response.

      She pushed Dean’s body off her and knelt next to him. A cell phone lay beside him, probably knocked from his pocket when he was thrown against the wall. She scooped it up and punched in the necessary numbers.

      An operator answered right away. “This is 911. What is your emergency?”

      “I need help!” Gwen screamed. “The ambulance that answered the call to White Oak Creek has crashed down the mountain. There are three others