CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Bree heard branches snap and metal groan as something huge crashed through the trees. Then the woods went silent.
“Did you hear that?” Bree strained to listen, but she heard nothing except rain falling on foliage. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, though the rain and cloud cover conspired to keep visibility to a minimum.
“Yes,” Juarez said.
She broke into a jog, then a run. She’d always been fast, but keeping up with the much-taller Matt on their morning runs had made her even faster. Tonight, however, her energy flagged. Ten years her junior, Juarez drew ahead. Bree pushed her toes into the mud, willing her legs to go faster.
Greta barked and strained into her harness. Collins could barely control the dog.
They followed the vehicle tracks, which suddenly seemed to be moving sideways.
Greta slammed on the brakes but continued to bark.
“Stop!” Juarez skidded to a halt, grabbing a tree and nearly clotheslining Bree with an arm. It slammed across her collarbones just as the wet ground gave way beneath her feet. For a fraction of a second, she felt nothing but emptiness under her feet. Her boots slid a few feet down the nearly vertical embankment. Her heart vaulted into her throat as she grabbed for a handhold. Her fingers closed on a nearby branch. Her body weight hung suspended, the muscles in her shoulders straining, her heels scrambling for purchase. She looked down and saw swirling, roiling dark water.
She flipped to face the earth and pulled herself toward solid ground. The toe of one boot hooked on a tree root protruding from the soil. She blew out through pursed lips as she pushed upward, reaching for a new handhold. Her back muscles strained. Her fingers closed around another branch. She hauled her body upward. Almost there. Her other toe found a notch. The branch snapped. Bree plunged downward again. Her boots were suspended in midair for what felt like a full second, then she was hauled upward and dragged over the edge, landing on her face in the mud. Juarez was beside her, his fingers still gripping her backpack.
“Thanks,” she wheezed. Her lungs, arms, and legs were on fire.
Nodding, he released her backpack, pressed his hand to the center of his chest, and heaved a deep breath of relief. “Thought I’d lost you.”
They climbed to their feet. Bree anchored herself on a sturdy tree branch and looked over the edge. About thirty feet below, the ass-end of an SUV stuck out of the muddy creek.
Was Grace inside?
Bree pushed backward. She dropped her backpack, yanked open the zipper, and pulled out a rope and a couple of carabiners. She lowered her duty belt to the ground, then fashioned a quick makeshift rappelling harness around her thighs and waist. She took an extra length of rope and wore it cross-body. She loaded her pockets with her weapon, multi-tool, and flashlight.
“I should go down,” Juarez protested. “No offense, but I have more upper-body strength.”
Bree shook her head, then handed him the end of the rope and a couple of carabiners. “I can handle my own weight, but I’m not strong enough to haul you back up here.”
Juarez conceded her point with silence, but his face hardened into an unhappy mask. He anchored the rope around a tree and took up the slack.
Bree stepped off the edge backward and repelled down the nearly vertical slope, following the trail of broken foliage plowed by the SUV. Her boot slipped in the mud, but she slid only a couple of feet before the rope—and Juarez—caught her.
At the bottom, she braced a foot on a rock and shined her light on the vehicle. The creek was swollen well above its normal depth, the bank footing as slick as ice. The SUV sat at a forty-five-degree angle, engine down. The driver’s window was open, the seat empty. Sandy slumped in the passenger seat, her body held in place by the seat belt. The water had reached her ribs and was level with the creek outside the vehicle. If the vehicle stayed where it was, no one would drown.
But that was a big if because the current was wicked.
Metal groaned as the SUV shifted. Pulled by the current and the weight of the engine, it slid farther into the creek. Inside the vehicle, the water rose a few more inches, reaching Sandy’s chest.
Goodbye, if. Hello, when. The SUV was going under. Physics would win. It was just a matter of time.
Bree untied her makeshift harness and left the rope dangling. She tied one end of the second rope to a tree and the other around her waist. After taking up the slack, she shuffled into the water up to her knees. Even in the shallows, the current nearly swept her feet out from under her. She braced herself with a hand on the vehicle and shined her flashlight inside the cargo area. Grace was tied up in the back. Her eyes opened and met Bree’s.
The air rushed out of Bree’s lungs.
Grace was alive.
But Bree had to get her out of the vehicle before it was swept into deeper water. Grace was tied too securely to escape on her own. Bree would have to go in after her.
She motioned for Grace to turn her face away. After Grace obeyed, Bree swung the butt end of her flashlight at the rear window. The first blow cracked the window. She swung harder. The tempered glass shattered. She cleared remaining pieces by sweeping her flashlight around the frame. Then she returned the light to her pocket.
A scraping sound sent a flash of panic straight into Bree’s soul. If the SUV was swept away, Grace was helpless. She’d drown.
The SUV shifted again, sliding another foot into the creek. Bree held her breath and waded deeper, the cold, muddy water swirling at her legs, pushing her sideways, numbing her feet. Heart rate skyrocketing, Bree took hold of the window frame. She let the current lift her legs, then eased herself through the opening. With the vehicle angled down, the water had not reached the cargo area. She knelt, one knee on the back of the rear seats, the other on the cargo bed, and paused for a second. But the vehicle didn’t move any farther into the creek.
She inched forward and peeled the tape off Grace’s mouth. The young woman gasped and sucked in air.
“No sudden movements, OK?” Bree pulled out her multi-tool and selected the knife.
“OK.” Grace’s voice was raspy.
Bree sliced through the ropes binding Grace. Slowly, Grace moved her hands around to the front of her body. She flexed her fingers, rotated her wrists, and moved her feet. She was barefoot and wore only her waitressing uniform of slacks and a Weekends T-shirt.
“Are you ready?” Bree asked.
Grace swallowed, then nodded.
Bree untied the rope from her waist and tied it around Grace’s. “Use this to pull yourself to shore.”
“OK,” Grace said, her voice stronger.
“You go first. Take it steady and slow. The water’s cold. Brace yourself.”
Grace’s hands shook as she pushed off the rear seat and semicrawled toward the broken rear window. With a metallic groan, the vehicle seemed to float. The SUV pivoted, the ass-end creeping toward the center of the creek. Grace froze, but they didn’t have much time.
“Go!” Bree gave her a nudge. “I’m right behind you.”
Grace slid through the open window. The current immediately carried her sideways a yard or so until she got her feet underneath her. Taking up the slack in the rope, she began to pull herself up the bank, hands and feet scrambling.
The vehicle spun a little more. Bree had her feet halfway out the broken window when Sandy screamed.
Fuck.
Bree turned. Sandy had come to. She thrashed, her movements weak.
Bree paused. Part of her said, The hell with her. Either Sandy’d killed four young women and kidnapped Grace or she’d helped Eric do it. Bree should leave her and let karma work its magic.
“Help me!” Sandy screamed, her voice high-pitched with desperation.
And Bree couldn’t leave her to die. “I’m going to get you out.” She climbed over the back seat into water up to her waist. She brought out the multi-tool knife again. “Hold still.”
But Sandy was going into full panic mode, thrashing and yelling, “I’m going to die.”
Did she think about those young women dying? She’d left a pregnant woman in labor hog-tied in an old silo. If they hadn’t found the woman, she and her baby likely would have died. Bree put her resentment aside and did her job.
Cold numbed her fingers, and it took several tries to cut the seat belt. She tugged Sandy toward the driver’s side. “Go out the window.”
Before they could exit, the SUV lifted, floated, and spun in the current. Sandy climbed out and teetered on the frame for a second before sliding into the water. Bree dived over the back seat and went out the broken rear window. Her body armor caught on the frame. Panic zinged like lightning. Her numb, clumsy fingers snatched at the fabric for a few seconds, until she freed herself and slid all the way out. She didn’t have time to take a breath. The water grabbed her and pulled her under like icy hands. Freezing, it closed over her head.
The shocking cold froze her eyeballs and ears.
Her boots landed on the rocky creek bed and she pushed upward. She was sputtering when her head broke the surface. Her eyes and throat burned. Swimming in boots and body armor was a bitch. She paddled like a lame dog but didn’t seem to get any closer to shore. A small wave crashed over her head. A floating branch smacked into her back, and Bree inhaled water.
“Sheriff!” Grace called and threw the end of the rope.
Bree grabbed it. Her fingers felt like blocks of ice three times their normal thickness. She could barely feel the rope as she struggled to thrust an arm through the loop Grace had tied at the end. She felt herself being towed to safety. Rocks scraped her legs as she drew closer to shore. On her hands and knees, Bree crawled up the slimy bank. Her stomach roiled, and she vomited creek water until her insides felt like a well-squeezed lemon.
Heavy breathing caught Bree’s attention. Sandy scrambled in the mud a few feet away, trying to climb the slippery bank. She glanced over her shoulder, saw Bree, and tried to go faster. But her feet slid, and she went down on her knees.
“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere.” Shivering hard, Bree pushed to her feet, lunged forward, and grabbed Sandy’s jacket. Then she dragged her farther onto shore.
Bree panted and leaned on her thighs. “Where’s Eric?”
Sandy groaned. “I don’t know.”
Bree spotted footsteps deep in the bank about fifteen feet away. They moved parallel to the creek, then turned to climb the slope on an angle. He’d run away.
“Sheriff!” Juarez yelled from above.
Bree looked up. Matt, Juarez, and Collins stared down at them, smiling.
“You’re alive!” Collins beamed.
A dozen feet away, more faces peered over the edge. Todd and two state troopers. Ropes came down. Grace was hauled up. Sandy had been unconscious for a short time. She was unsteady and probably had a concussion. A trooper rappelled down and brought her up. Bree got back into her makeshift harness. Todd and Matt pulled her up. The first thing she did was crawl over and handcuff Sandy.
Bree sat on the soaked ground. Her body felt like a Jell-O mold, quivering and insubstantial. Matt brought her a space blanket. He crouched, then wrapped it and his arms around her. He was warm and dry, and she leaned into him. They said nothing for a full minute.
When Bree pulled away, Todd had wrapped a space blanket around Grace. Matt stood, but stayed close to Bree.
“Thanks,” she said. “What happened with the other girl?”
Matt said, “Her name is Sabrina Hopkins, and she’s on the way to the hospital now.”
“Sabrina?” Bree couldn’t believe it. All those months ... “Tell me someone let her call her parents.”
“Before she even got in the ambulance,” Matt said.
Sandy moaned on the ground.
“I’ll get a stretcher.” A trooper jogged into the rain. “Do you need one, Sheriff?”
Bree lifted a hand in a halt gesture. “I can walk.”
“Me too,” said Grace. “I can walk.”
Bree gave her a nod of respect. “Are you sure?”
Grace tilted her chin up. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“Yes, you are,” Bree agreed. She sent Juarez back to the car for her extra boots, socks, and jacket. He took off at a run.
Juarez returned in a few minutes and offered Bree her clothes. But Bree pointed to Grace. She was barefoot and not wearing a coat. Juarez helped Grace into the socks, boots, and sheriff’s department jacket. Then he crouched next to Bree and opened a first aid kit. “You could have used the dry boots and coat.”
“She needs them more.” Bree’s teeth chattered.
He shined a flashlight on her. “Let me see your hands. And your face. You’re a mess, Sheriff.”
Bree turned her hands over in the light. Her palms and fingers were covered with rope burns and small cuts. Apparently, so was her face. She let her deputy clean and bandage her wounds, which were just beginning to hurt.
“You’re going to need a couple of stitches.” Juarez wrapped her hand in rolled gauze.
“Where’s Eric?” Matt asked, checking Bree’s pulse.
“He got away.” Bree pointed in the direction his footprints traveled.
“He fucking left me to die!” Sandy sobbed.
Collins’s head snapped around. “Did he now? Come on, Greta. We have work to do.”
Matt touched Bree’s shoulder. “I’m going with Collins.”
“Me too,” she said.
He raised a doubtful brow but stood and offered her a hand. She took it, and he hoisted her to her feet. Small aches nagged at her as she set off in the dog’s direction. She wanted to go home more than anything, but she wouldn’t be able to relax until they’d caught Eric Zolek.
A state trooper walked over with a heavy NYSP jacket. He handed it to Bree. “Nice work tonight, Sheriff.”
She took the coat and shed the shiny blanket. Then she and Matt walked about fifty feet, to where Todd was studying the ground. Collins was unclipping the leash from Greta’s harness.
“Here’s where he came up the bank.” Todd pointed to a trail of footprints. “Uneven stride. Looks like he’s injured.”
Good.Bree hoped she hadn’t said that out loud. “Maybe that will slow him down.”
“Greta will find him. He won’t outrun her.” Collins led the dog to his prints and shouted a command in German. The black dog shot off into the darkness, tearing through the woods like a wolf. Matt, Todd, and Collins followed at a run. Bree stumbled along in their wake. Juarez stayed at her side. He was probably afraid she’d fall flat on her face. But she kept going, running on sheer stubbornness.
Only a few minutes passed before they heard a sharp, high-pitched, human cry.
“She must have him,” Collins yelled, and increased her speed.