Chapter 13
She could almost hear the clock ticking right now. Every second, every minute they didn’t have them back was a minute where Heather and Powell got further away. Everyone knew that. Just like when Haldyn had been missing. It was just as terrifying then. She didn’t know what to do to find them.
She had the evidence from Powell’s private bodyguard who had been shot. All it did was confirm that Heather had touched him at some point, that it was his blood. That Heather’s phone with the video of what had happened had been found tucked inside the man’s shirt.
She had everything found at the scene, at the house Powell had bought recently. She was running DNA samples now, but it was going to take time.
Time Powell and Heather just didn’t have. Every second counted. Those guys…they had no reason to keep Heather and Powell alive right now. And they had killed people before.
Madison was trying not to scream. Fear for Heather and Powell had her ready to hurl.
She knew what could happen to women out there.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Joey Costovia pressing her down into the hard ground next to the Value Reservoir.
Sometimes, sometimes, she dreamed of that at night.
And she’d wake, screaming for him to get off her.
And screaming for someone to help her and Hope.
She’d been screaming and no one had come.
No one had helped. She had heard Hope screaming nearby.
Where Wilson had had her. Madison had known she couldn’t do anything to help Hope either.
That help had come. Haldyn had almost died because of it. And Hope. But Madison would forever be grateful for what Kimball had done before he’d taken them to FCGH. If he hadn’t shown up with Haldyn then—she and Hope would have been raped and killed.
In her dreams…Kimball was too late. Each and every time.
Hope had to be terrified right now. Madison wanted to go to her friend and check on her, herself. But she knew…she was better off here, doing what she could to find Powell and Heather. That was what she could do to help Hope the most. Find Heather and Powell.
She printed out every evidence report, every document she had that tied to the OPJ case. Then she scanned it into her tablet. She had an app that she could use to mind-map connections. She wasn’t an investigator, but scientific evidence could tell stories, too.
She had to do something. She couldn’t just sit there and hope they were found.
She was still working several hours later when word came.
They needed a forensic team to Finley Creek General Hospital as soon as possible.
Powell was there. At FCGH. They knew where Powell was. They had Powell back.
Powell had walked right in. She’d just walked right in from the street. They had Powell back. They had Powell.
There wasn’t any word about Heather, yet.
Madison grabbed her bag, and Ashlie. Madison couldn’t process Powell herself, not being close friends with her, but she was going to be there. For her friend.
No matter what.
She was still at the hospital when someone shouted. She looked up. Nikkie Jean—the woman who owned the hospital now, and a good friend of Madison’s; she was Zoey’s sister-in-law, too—was running toward the door. Powell’s oldest brother Mac was visible through the pneumatic doors.
Holding Heather in his arms.
Mac had Heather. She was in his arms and she was alive.
Madison called out.
And then everyone was moving.