Chapter 55
FIFTY-FIVE
Brambles caught in the fabric of Josie’s khakis as she ran.
The drought had dried up all the undergrowth in the forest. Dead leaves, brittle twigs, and pine cones crunched loudly under her boots.
Gretchen was ahead of her, weaving through the trees smoothly, despite the uneven terrain.
Both of them called out to Saul but he was nothing more than the occasional flash of faded blue flannel among the foliage.
Soon she was surrounded by thick tree trunks.
The air under the canopy of trees was blessedly cooler.
Ahead, Gretchen disappeared, though Josie could hear footfalls.
Neither of them had stopped to radio or call for back-up.
They’d acted on instinct, pursuing the one man who had the answers they so desperately needed.
Sweat beaded in the hollow of Josie’s throat and slipped down between her breasts.
The skin of her forearms was wet as though she’d just emerged from a shower.
When she tugged at the portable radio clipped to her belt, her fingers were too slick to grip it.
Her mind was at war with itself. She knew she should stop and radio for additional units.
Saul Vought wasn’t technically a threat.
He’d done nothing but run from them. In truth, there was no reason to pursue him at all.
They knew his identity. Denton PD would track him down eventually.
But Gretchen was hot on Saul’s heels and Josie couldn’t leave her colleague to handle him alone.
Plus, if he had Dani and Cassidy, or he’d done something with their bodies, Josie needed to know sooner rather than later.
Her fingers finally managed to pull the radio free when she burst into a small clearing.
Before she had time to register what lay ahead, she was tumbling down an embankment.
The world was a blurry kaleidoscope of her surroundings.
Blue sky. Tree branches. Dirt. Rocks. Leaves.
Adrenaline pumped so hard and fast through her veins that she didn’t actually feel each time her body slammed into something hard or sharp.
Some distant part of her mind knew that she’d be in bad shape later, but that was a problem for future Josie.
Finally, her body stopped rolling. She landed flat on her stomach, something hard and unforgiving digging into her rib cage.
Her cheek rested on the ground. Lifting her head, she spit out a glob of dirt mixed with saliva and a few pieces of green leaves that she prayed weren’t toxic.
The quick inventory of her body told her nothing was broken.
At least, not that she could tell. A long strip of skin was missing from one of her forearms, leaving a bloody, dirt-encrusted wound.
She felt nothing.
Not even when she lurched onto her knees and looked down to see that the thing jabbing her rib cage was a rock.
When she took a deep breath, her lungs wheezed.
Her heartbeat felt slow and hard, like her body was using an inordinate amount of effort just to form a single beat and each time it did, her rib cage rattled.
It was disconcerting. Her body didn’t feel like her own right now.
She didn’t have time for any of this. She had to catch up to Gretchen.
For a moment, she swayed on her knees, searching for the radio, but it was gone.
Her brain was so foggy. Had she hit her head?
She pressed her fingers into the side of her skull, finding a rapidly growing lump.
Still, her consciousness wouldn’t allow the pain to flood in. Not yet.
Phone. She wasn’t sure if she said the word out loud or not but soon she was staggering to her feet, patting her pockets to look for it.
From the corner of her eye was that flash of blue and white flannel and she spun so hard that her body listed to the side, causing her to stumble.
But Saul wasn’t coming after her. He wasn’t coming after her because he was on top of Gretchen.
They were maybe twenty or thirty feet away.
Josie’s beloved friend and colleague flat on her back, arms pinned to her sides by Saul’s powerful legs as he straddled her, his weight settled on her chest. One of his large hands easily covered Gretchen’s mouth and nose.
Quiet. The burking was so quiet. Had Josie not turned around, she might not have heard anything at all.
As it was, Gretchen didn’t stand a chance. Josie wasn’t close enough to see her friend’s eyes but the skin along the side of her face was turning purple. Her legs twitched uselessly along the ground.
Josie took in the scene in the span of a heartbeat before her body moved, sure and swift, relying entirely on rage and muscle memory.
She strode toward them, unsnapping her holster, drawing her weapon, circling so she would have the cleanest shot possible.
A high-pitched blaring noise filled her brain.
She was aware of her lips forming commands:
Let her go.
Stop.
Get on the ground.
Show me your hands.
Josie couldn’t tell if Saul heard her, but he didn’t stop.
Didn’t even pause. Closer, Josie could see Gretchen’s eyes bulging.
Could imagine the tiny petechial hemorrhages forming in her sclera, the bluish tint starting to color her lips.
A few feet away, her reading glasses lay in a pile of dead weeds, broken.
Josie took the shot.
Saul was tall. Even while holding his hand over Gretchen’s mouth and nose, his upper body was straight, center mass exposed.
She watched his body jerk from the impact.
His hand fell away from Gretchen’s face and touched the patch of blood blooming on his sternum.
For a second, he looked confused. Then, he glanced up and saw her bearing down on him and he looked terrified.
As Josie kicked him with all her might, toppling him off Gretchen’s prone form, she wondered if any woman had ever instilled that kind of fear into him before.
Liora Holt, maybe. Regardless, Josie was glad—no, massively, euphorically thrilled—that the last thing this fucker was going to feel before he bled out was terror.
She had him on his stomach in seconds, securing his hands behind his back with zip ties while he labored to breathe.
Once he was flipped onto his back, she tore away one of his shirttails and used it to apply pressure to his wound.
She already knew he wouldn’t make it. There was no way he would survive the time it would take for medics to get all the way out here and find them in the woods.
“Where are they?” she snarled. “Where are Dani and Cassidy Turner?”
His face was gray and damp with perspiration. Under her hands, Josie felt his heart slowing. The horror in his brown eyes started to fade, leaving them unfocused and empty.
“Where are they?” Josie hollered. “What did you do with them?”
One of his hands lifted, just a fraction, and fell back to the ground. He was fading faster now.
“You son of a bitch! Where are they! Tell me! What did you do? What did you do?”
She was in such a haze, her body humming with rage, that when a palm landed on her shoulder, she felt like something short-circuited in her brain.
For a moment, everything inside her body and all around her was nothing but static.
A steady, grating buzz. An ugly gray liminal space between the precipice of getting the answers she needed and the rock bottom of them slipping away.
Josie didn’t regret taking the shot, though.
Especially when she came back to herself and found Gretchen kneeling beside her, one hand clutching her ribs while the other squeezed Josie’s shoulder.
Her face was a disturbing shade of red. Twigs and thick pieces of dried brush caught in her short hair.
Her chest heaved. Each breath seemed to require a herculean effort.
Josie’s fingers fumbled to get her phone out so she could call for help.
In her coolest, most professional tone, she recited all the information dispatch needed to get to them.
Then she turned and gathered Gretchen gingerly into her arms, holding her friend up as they watched the first blowfly land on Saul Vought’s face.