Chapter 3 #2
Not her too. It wasn’t possible.
“Do you see her?” he shouted to the cop, uncertain if he could even be heard.
The cop’s position was higher; he’d have been able to spot her. Rodriquez looked, almost slipping from the bridge support as he scanned.
Five seconds, ten, fifteen. The cop shook his head.
Unacceptable answer. He’d find her himself.
He struck out a few yards away from the pillar and peered around again.
She’d been tired, injured maybe, unable to reach the first bridge support. The flow would have pulled her closer to the next one. He let the current carry him a few yards downstream, dodging a whirling hunk of wood pallet a millisecond before it would have bashed his skull in.
The next nearest bridge support on the west side was concealed behind plumes of white water. He pushed himself harder and came abreast of it, certain he’d see her.
She wasn’t there. His heart dropped.
Pinpricks of black danced in his pupils. He was breathing hard, his strength slowly draining away. He stopped, treading water, shouting above the roar.
“Mackenzie!”
The river answered, but he heard no human reply.
He hollered again, throat tight, fear ripping through his soul. In the far distance, he could still make out the bridge support where the survivors clung.
The cop was gesturing forcefully, the message clear. She’s gone. Get out of the water or you’re going to die, you fool.
The sergeant was right. Adding another victim wasn’t going to save her. But she could not be gone, and there was no way he could give up the search. That wasn’t in his creed, nor his DNA. Not for anybody and especially not for Aaron’s sister.
“Mackenzie!” he shouted.
To his left, he thought he heard something.
He yelled again and then he was certain he heard a high-pitched answer.
Through the pummeling water he saw a pile of debris.
Pulse pounding, he swam hard until he approached a mass of branches that had formed a snag.
A flash of orange jumpsuit made his spirit soar.
Thank you, God almighty.
The branches had caught her as she’d tried to reach the other pier. The water seized him in a freezing grip, doing its best to yank him onto another course. He doubled down, tucked his chin, and hauled.
When he finally reached her, she was clinging to a twisted branch, only her head and shoulders above water. He made it close enough, secured himself to a protruding branch next to her, and let the water pin him in place rather than fighting against it.
Her teeth were chattering, lips blue. “Did they make it out? The women and the cop?”
“Affirmative. They’re holding in place, waiting for rescue, like you should be.”
She didn’t answer, just shivered, her fingers like white marble as she held on.
He tamped down his combination of anger and relief and focused on calculating an ending where they didn’t both drown. “It’s too far and too rough to swim back to their position,” he told her. “Can you make it to the next pier if we go together? The water will do most of the work.”
She nodded, hair plastered to her face. “Then what?”
Isn’t it obvious? “Then we wait for rescue. Gonna hope the cop’s got reinforcements rolling and your would-be assassins are gone.”
She cocked her head. “I’ll go back to jail.”
Anger chewed his gut. “But on the plus side, you won’t be dead,” he snapped. “Nor will they.”
She actually looked contrite. “I didn’t mean to put anyone else in danger.”
He figured with everything going on, he wasn’t required to listen to her lame apology. “We’ll edge around this pile and then we kick off in that direction.” He pointed. “Hold on to my belt. Ready?”
She looked as though she wanted to say something, but instead she clasped his belt at his lower back when he turned.
He was so cold he felt only the barest hint of her touch.
His limbs were numbed, hers too, their reflexes slowed.
As their core body temperatures dropped and hypothermia set in, decision-making, reaction time, and even their ability to communicate would be impaired.
Move it, Landry.
“We’ll get around this pile and then the challenge will be not letting ourselves get swept past the pier.”
He grabbed at the branches, broken ends threatening to puncture his palms. Not that he’d likely feel it anyway since they were submerged in an ice bath. She clawed her way too—trying, he supposed, not to add to his exertion by being a dead weight.
When we’re out of here, I’m going to tell you exactly how I feel about this situation you’ve dragged us into, Zee.
The pier seemed impossibly far away when they reached the edge of the tangle.
He didn’t stop to let that sink in. Movement was the only thing keeping them alive.
He did a visual check to make sure she was still hanging on since he could no longer trust his frozen senses and gestured to communicate it was go time.
He swam for all he was worth, Mackenzie doing the same.
Every single moment of physical training he’d forced upon his body paid off as he crossed the treacherous distance, though his right shoulder felt like it was going to snap off.
She cleaved the water as cleanly as a half-frozen person could.
The waves roiled and sucked at them, and once they had to reroute around a sharp spine of rock that protruded in their path.
It was so taxing he prayed they’d have enough strength to haul themselves up the slippery cement pedestal.
Focus on the now.
For an eternity it felt as if the river would win, but inch by inch they extracted themselves from the tumult and finally reached the pier.
When they made it, gasping and panting, he found a series of metal pins embedded in the cement that provided footholds. He insisted she climb first.
She shook her head.
“Not in the mood, Zee,” he snarled. “Out.”
She must have been too cold to argue with her usual bullheaded vigor because she followed his command, leaning on his knee for leverage. When she was clear, she reached a shaking hand to help him. He ignored the gesture and used every last bit of strength to extricate himself.
They crouched on the narrow concrete lip that was no more than eight inches wide, the water pouring off their clothing.
When he could force himself to move, he slithered around a couple feet to a spot where he could get a visual on the cop.
He waved, almost losing his balance and toppling in.
Rodriquez finally spotted him and offered a thumbs-up.
The guy probably couldn’t believe they were alive.
Gideon could hardly comprehend it either.
“Backup coming?” Mackenzie said in his ear.
He jerked. He hadn’t realized she’d moved so close to him. “Likely.”
He checked his waterproof watch. Twenty-five minutes since he’d entered the water.
Backup should have already arrived, even in this bad-weather condition.
But it was a scant police presence in a small town with a dam failure looming in addition to the flood—and a whopper of a complication when the two trucks had taken out the prison van.
During an emergency, people had to be ready to take care of themselves.
He wasn’t at all sure how that was going to work since the cop and the other two women were likely as close to hypothermia as he and Mackenzie.
The two stood shivering, limbs quaking. She swayed.
It was becoming difficult for her to maintain her balance on the narrow rim, so he looped an arm around her and pulled her to his side.
She did not resist, a clear indication she was starting to succumb.
He had no dry clothes he could share in their precarious position, no escape from the frigid temps, only the scant comfort of a shoulder to steady her until help arrived.
They half leaned, half stood, the minutes ticking by in excruciating slow motion as the cold knifed into them.
If rescue didn’t arrive soon, it would be too late.
Over the cacophony of the rushing water, he heard the thin wail of a siren. “Cops, finally.”
“One squad car?” She squinted through the spray. “How’s that going to help?”
Before he could answer, a red boat with Rescue on the side motored into view with lights strobing.
Two life-jacketed men stood on deck, another at the controls, scanning the water with binoculars.
His worry ebbed away in a rush of euphoria.
He muttered another prayer of thanks as he watched the vessel.
The twenty-three-foot Zodiac was made for complicated rescues, with plenty of room for all of them and two motors that would provide enough horsepower to easily handle the current.
Never had he thought a boat beautiful before, but this one deserved its own magazine cover.
Mackenzie grinned. “Chic. I would have settled for a rowboat.”
“Me too.”
As they clutched each other, the boat approached the pier where the officer and two passengers clung. They’d put a swimmer in the water, maybe deploy their floating stretcher to convey the passengers to safety if the victims were too weak to manage the transfer.
Rodriquez pointed to their location, and a voice came over the PA from the vessel.
“This is Oakleaf Fire and Rescue. We see you and will render aid soon. Stay put.”
As if they had a whole lot of choice in the matter.
He’d opened his mouth to shout a reply when the white truck rolled into view in the marshy grasses along the access road that paralleled the flooding river. His heart thumped and the words died on his lips.
Mackenzie gasped. “They can’t be back.”
The narrow road next to the bridge was closed by a gate—he’d checked when he’d taken up his recon position—off-limits since it was submerged in some places already. The truck had found a way through the barriers.
He couldn’t see the face of the driver, but he knew it was Hairy, the man with the beard who’d forced the van off the bridge.
But there were cops now, and fire response. Surely they weren’t desperate enough to—
He was already turning to draw Mackenzie to the far side of the support when the first rifle shot pinged into the cement pier.
****
Mackenzie forced her sluggish senses to process. They were under attack. Again. The cops in the squad car returned fire as the rescue boat continued to race toward the stranded trio.
She and Gideon were out of view of the shooter at first, but the angle of the shots indicated the truck was moving, likely searching.
For her? And Lorraine? As she surveyed the violent eddies of the water, she worried Bullseye’s orders would be carried out.
Their time was ticking down until death came via a bullet or exposure.
Somewhere out there, the other vehicle, the black one that had assisted in the initial attack, was closing in as well.
Her thoughts finally tumbled out her mouth, past her chattering teeth. “They were watching from somewhere. They saw us escape the van.”
Gideon didn’t seem to have heard her. He was half crouched, analyzing. The water made his shorn hair stand up in prickles. His teeth weren’t chattering, but his body convulsed with shivers.
The way she saw it, there were only two choices, stay or move, and they had to decide now.
The seconds were ebbing away until they died from the cold.
Until they weakened and fell into the water.
Until the second shooter spotted them clinging to the support, or the first corrected their aim.
“We have to swim for it again.” She peered across to the far side of the river. “Current should take us toward that next snag, right? We can crawl our way out.”
He did look at her then, furious. “Get real. We don’t have the strength.”
She tried a smile. “Speak for yourself.”
“I’m speaking for both of us. Our best bet is to stay here, keep out of the line of fire, and wait for reinforcements. That’s the smart way.”
She shook her head.
The muscle in his jaw jumped. “You know how much of my career has been spent learning from stories about people who didn’t choose the smart way?”
Another volley of shots indicated the officer on the bank had engaged the white truck. They scooted around the pier in time to see the cop who’d driven the van jump feetfirst into the rescue boat where the two women were already sheltering. The boat began a slow turn.
Relief that the women and cop would not die because of her was heady.
A second police car rode up, sirens screaming, and immediately took up position to support the rescue boat. Their combined fire caused the white truck to back up and execute a wild U-turn.
“Hairy’s retreating,” Gideon crowed. “Give it to ’em, boys.” He leaned away from her another few inches.
Mackenzie thought it over. She had to keep going, and Gideon would only get hurt trying to dissuade her.
While his attention was elsewhere, she would stay busy moving toward her goal.
If she waited like he’d demanded, she would wind up back in custody somewhere and her chance would pass her by.
She no longer had access to Lorraine, but Lorraine’s boyfriend, Cal, worked at the airstrip, and there was a chance he hadn’t yet evacuated.
Maybe he could tell her what she needed to know.
It was her last fragile opportunity, and she had to risk it.
But not Gideon. He was right about waiting for help.
It was definitely the best choice for him.
He’d get warmed up, back to his vehicle, and escape without suffering any more consequences.
She didn’t like Gideon—still felt the hurt of his refusal to help with the case against Bullseye—but she didn’t want him to die for her. Best to protect him from it all.
She peered into the swirling water, body quaking to remind her she had very little strength left. But all she had to do was make it to the snag and haul herself out. She’d find some dry clothes somewhere, warm up, regroup. Finish what she’d started.
It was an absolutely reckless choice. But it was hers to make.
Gideon was still turned away from her. “Cops are pursuing the white truck. Boat’s making a circle. They’ll come around to—”
Before he finished, Mackenzie made her move.