With a Vengeance by Annette Dashofy Page A

rendition of “I Fought the Law and the Law Won.” Her pulse quickened.
    “Hey, Pete,” she answered.
    “How’s Yancy?”
    She glanced toward the cubicle where she’d left the fire chief. “Bullet went through his right arm. Shattered his humerus and he lost a lot of blood. Not life-threatening, but I don’t know about nerve damage.”
    There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Pete was probably wondering the same thing she was. How would big rough and tough Bruce Yancy handle losing the use of his arm? After a moment, Pete asked, “What about the other fireman?”
    “I haven’t heard.” Earl and the others from Medic Three had pulled in a few minutes after she had, but considering she still hadn’t seen any of them, she knew it was bad. Real bad. Most of the time when they arrived at the ER with a patient, the hospital’s staff took over, and the paramedics changed sheets on their gurney, restocked their supplies, and got back in service. Only when it was dire did the doctors enlist their help. “Please tell me you’ve caught the guy.”
    A sigh came through the line. “I wish I could. Are you all right?”
    The truth or a lie? The truth being hell no . But that would lead to choking tears, and this was not the time or place. “I’m hanging in there. Pete…what’s going on? Who’s shooting at us?”
    “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it? We have every law enforcement officer in three counties looking for him.”
    But would they find him before or after anyone else died? She knew better than to ask the question, though. Movement at the end of the hallway drew her attention. The three paramedics stepped out of the cubicle where they’d been working on the young firefighter. “Hang on a second,” she told Pete. “Here comes Earl.” She lowered the phone and waited.
    Her partner spotted her and shuffled toward her, shoulders sagging, hands stuffed in his pockets. She knew without asking.
    Earl met her gaze, his eyes damp. He shook his head.
    Zoe took a raspy breath. Blew it out. And again lifted the phone to her ear.
    “Pete? Jason didn’t make it.”

      
    “You look like shit.” Sylvia had never been one to pull punches.
    But at least she thrust a cup of coffee into Pete’s hands as he dragged into the station after a second long night at a shooting scene. He inhaled the aroma and sipped. “You, on the other hand, are beautiful.”
    She blew a raspberry and then grew serious. “You find anything?”
    He shuffled down the hallway to his office, Sylvia trailing behind. “They pinpointed where the shots came from. Mostly we were trying to cover the area with tarps to protect what we could from the rain. Now that it’s stopped and the sun’s coming up, they’re starting to do a more thorough search.” He sagged into his chair. “Thanks for manning the station all night.”
    A sad smile crossed her face. “It almost felt like old times.” The smile faded. “I can’t believe Jason Dyer’s gone. He was such a sweet kid. Ted was the one who got him interested in firefighting, you know.”
    “No, I didn’t know.” Sylvia’s son, Ted Bassi, had been a pillar of the Vance Township VFD prior to his tragic death last winter. “So you knew Jason?”
    She took a seat opposite Pete. “He spent a lot of time at Ted and Rose’s house. He and Logan were great pals. Have you talked to Jason’s folks yet?”
    “Last night.” Death notifications. One of the worst parts of his job—telling a parent his child won’t be coming home again. “They didn’t take it well.”
    Sylvia stared into space, her eyes glazed. Pete had given her the same news less than a year ago.
    He knew full well she was reliving that moment right now. “You should stop in and talk to them.”
    “I intend to. As soon as Nancy gets here.” Sylvia checked her watch. “Which should be any time now.”
    He sipped his coffee and shook his head. “It’s Saturday. She’s off