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Rollo had been to the Breton tower before; luckily they hadn't changed the access code. He punched in the numbers and pushed open the door. Once inside, he propped the gunman in a corner and powered up the radio communications system. He called the forest ranger, who was based out of the same Fire and Rescue compound as the hotshots. He filled the dispatcher in on what had happened, and she called the state troopers, who immediately sent a car. He promised to wait until the deputies arrived. The last thing he wanted was to let the guy slip away.
His knuckles hurt. His shoulder hurt. His heart hurt.
He hadn't struck anyone that hard since the day he'd nearly killed Dougie Berkowitz. He'd vowed not to. Punching bags, sure. Walls, if he couldn't find something better. But not people. Th
