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As Jason’s feet disappeared, Lara pushed herself through the seats. Her sandal strap caught on the gearshift and she wasted precious seconds yanking it off her foot. Hands appeared again, reaching toward her. She reached out. They grabbed her. A feeling of safety shot through her body as the hands pulled her free of the car. Her rescuer put an arm around her waist and swam to the surface, towing her along.
She emerged into the warm night air coughing and choking. Arms lifted her from her feet and carried her up the steep embankment, laying her down on the grass beside Jason, who was being tended by an older woman Lara had never seen before. A gray car was parked a few feet away, the driver’s door wide open. A beeping sound indicated the keys were still in the ignition.
Lara coughed up a half gallon of water before looking up at the man who had saved her.
Dripping wet, hair streaming down his brown face, clothes molded against his powerful body, expression unfathomable.
Brady.
Somewhere in her heart of hearts, she’d known it was him. “Why are you here?” she sputtered.
“It’s a long story,” he said, leaving her side to kneel beside Jason. “This lady saw your car go into the river as she crossed the bridge. She called an ambulance on her cell phone.” He put his fingers against Jason’s throat. Even from where Lara sat, she could see the spreading red stain on Jason’s chest and she groaned.
“His breathing is shallow, he’s going into shock,” Brady said. Addressing the Good Samaritan, he added, “Do you have a blanket in your car, something to keep him warm?”
“I’ll look,” she said, struggling to her feet.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Brady said as he propped the boy’s feet atop a rock. Lara took Jason’s limp hand. He felt so cold.
Brady was in the act of stripping off his wet T-shirt, when the woman hurried from her car carrying a blue blanket. He rung out his shirt before wadding it up and placing it on Jason’s wound. The muscles under his wet skin rippled with effort.
“It’s the dog throw,” the flustered woman said as she pushed the blanket toward Brady. “It’s probably hairy—”
“It’s fine,” Brady said, tucking the blanket around the wet boy. “Can you take over for me? Can you keep pressure on his wound?”
“Of course.” The woman did as Brady asked before looking up at him with frightened eyes. “This is a gunshot, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And the girl?”
Now that survival wasn’t foremost on her mind, Lara realized she felt not only light-headed, but her arm throbbed. She looked down to find new blood seeping into the wet cloth, making a pink watercolor of her blouse.
Brady took her good hand, pulling her to her feet. She stumbled against him and he caught her, his grip tight.
“You okay?”
No, she wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay at all. She’d come close to dying. She’d come close to leaving secrets untold. She had to bite back tears as she said, “You know about the shooting?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t understand. How did you get here?”
“Put some pressure on your arm,” he said evasively. “Better yet, keep it elevated.” He looked toward the road. “I hear a siren. Let’s hope they had the good sense to alert the police.”
OVERLAID ON THE IMAGE of Jason’s unconscious body being loaded into the ambulance as red and blue police lights flashed in the dark was the old replay of the same thing being done to Billy Armstrong.
Two boys out for a joyride. One dead, the other hovering near death.
And now Lara.
Along with the police, two ambulances had responded. The ambulance carrying Jason took off almost immediately. The other stood waiting for Lara. Brady watched as Lara greeted one of the EMT guys like an old, lost friend. They’d probably gone to school together. It struck Brady that Lara had walked away from her whole life—her family, her friends, her job—when she walked away from him.
Ran away. And what choice did you give her?
“I have to talk to you,” she told him, pausing as a medic guided her to the ambulance.
“Did Jason have a chance to say anything to you?” he asked.
She cradled her wounded arm with her good hand. Sympathy, the last thing he wanted from her, flooded her eyes. She said, “He was just getting settled when it happened. The only person he had a chance to mention was his girlfriend, the Wylie girl. I guess she broke up with him.”
“That’s all?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” She lowered her voice and added, “I need to talk to you about something even more important. I could have died tonight. I would have died if you hadn’t magically appeared.”
“Not magically,” he said, gazing into her green eyes. The flashing lights cast revolving colors across her hair and face. Her eyes glistened.
So many memories. Of holding her, kissing her, making love to her. She had been his and he’d lost her.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” she repeated.
“Me, too. I didn’t just happened to be here tonight.”
She shook her head. “I don’t care. I’ll wait for you at the hospital. Come get me when you can.”
“Just tell me now—”
“Not now,” she said. He felt his throat close as she walked away. His last glimpse was of her eyes before the ambulance doors shut and the vehicle charged back to town.
Tom hadn’t arrived yet, but his new partner, a young guy named Hastings, took Brady’s statement, russet eyebrows arching when Brady described the gunfire.
“Two shots,” Brady said. “Maybe three.”
“But you didn’t see the vehicle?”
“No.”
“Show me again where you were standing when the shots started.”
Brady walked Hastings through the whole thing, using flashlights. Tow trucks had arrived and the underwater recovery of the vehicle had begun. Hastings left as another squad car tore into the clearing and Tom emerged, tugging on his hat. Hastings and Tom spoke for a few seconds, then Tom came to stand beside Brady.
“I’d like to get to the hospital,” Brady said.
Tom nodded. “Soon. But hell, Brady, what were you doing out here? Did you follow Lara?”
“Actually, I followed Jason Briggs. I saw him riding his bike.”
“You followed Jason? With what?”
“The Harley. It’s parked down the road, behind some trees.”
“Let me get this straight. You shadowed the kid out of town, then hid your motorcycle and continued on foot? Why?”
Brady shrugged. “Because the Harley is noisy and I didn’t want Jason to know I was following him.”
“He never saw you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“And when you got here—”
“I stayed out of sight.”
“How long did he and Lara talk before the attack? Did he say anything about Billy having a gun?”
“He didn’t have time. They only talked for a minute or two. She said he never got past mentioning his girlfriend. A girl named Wylie.”
“What about her?”
“I guess she broke up with Jason. You’ll have to ask Lara.”
“And you didn’t see the gunman or his vehicle?”
“No.”
“This doesn’t look so good,” Tom said, pushing his hat back on his head.
Brady’s eyes narrowed as he said, “Just what are you suggesting, Tom?”
“Nothing. Nothing. But you’ve got to admit it looks bad.”
“Why?”
“The first day you find out Jason Briggs is home you follow him. The next thing anyone knows, the boy is as good as dead. And you’re on scene.”
“Are you saying I shot Jason Briggs?”
“I’m saying it looks like you could have shot the boy. He was the only other one in the car with Billy Armstrong that night. He’s fresh out of juvie. If he knew something maybe you didn’t want him telling, he might confide in his old counselor—”
“I am this close to giving you a black eye,” Brady growled, his fist bunched into a knot.
Tom shook his head. “I know you didn’t do this, pal. No matter how you felt about Jason, you would never have jeopardized Lara. But Chief Dixon is going to ask these questions.”
“I don’t have anything against Jason. Did you tell Dixon about Jason wanting to talk to Lara?”
Tom thought for a second. “I guess so. At the briefing. Sure.”
“And how many others?”
“I don’t know. Half a dozen.”
“Any way for Bill Armstrong to have heard the news?”
Tom thought again for a second before saying, “His ex-brother-in-law works in dispatch so I guess it’s possible. What are you getting at?”
“I don’t know what I’m getting at.” Brady took a steadying breath. “How do we know Lara wasn’t the real victim?”
“Why would anyone want to shoot her?”
“I don’t know. Ask Bill Armstrong where he was tonight.”
“Don’t start on that. Bill Armstrong wouldn’t shoot Jason Briggs.”
“Wouldn’t he? Your scenario of my not wanting Jason to tell Lara something might also pertain to Armstrong. Maybe there’s something Billy told Jason that Armstrong doesn’t want Jason telling Lara. Or maybe he just wants to hurt Lara to get back at me.”
“Is something going on between you two?”
“No,” Brady said. “But he doesn’t know that.”
Tom looked unconvinced. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
HOW DID YOU FIND a madman when you had no clues? Jason could have made new enemies in juvenile detention, he could have tempted old enemies who heard he was back in town and saw him riding his bike off on his own. Like Brady had. Was he sure there hadn’t been a third party trailing him while he trailed Jason? Had he even thought to look?
No, and yet somehow Brady didn’t believe that was the answer. He thought it was as simple as someone not wanting Jason Briggs talking to Lara Kirk.
Why?
Or maybe someone wanted Lara dead and was a lousy shot.
Twenty minutes after leaving the clearing, he entered the emergency-room doors for the first time in almost a year, nodding at the nurse behind the desk as his still-soggy boots squeaked with every step. In lieu of a shirt, which he’d donated to help stem Jason’s bleeding, he wore an old jacket he carried on the bike. It was too hot a garment for August.
“Hey, Brady. Long time no see.”
“How you doing, Tammy? I’m here to check on Lara Kirk and Jason Briggs.”
She frowned for a second. About his own age, she looked ten years older, probably because she smoked like a fiend when no one was watching. Brady had caught her outside a few times and used to tease her about it.
“Ms. Kirk was treated for a superficial gunshot wound in her right arm and was released an hour ago. The Briggs boy is in surgery. It’s touch and go.”
“I thought Ms. Kirk was going to wait for me,” Brady mused aloud, unsure what to do now.
“She got a call and left.”
Brady thanked her briskly and took off. Who had called her? Why? What was important enough for her to leave the hospital when she’d made a point of telling him to meet her there? Was it possible she didn’t understand the importance of the fact that Jason Briggs wasn’t the only one who had been shot tonight?
He got as far as the Harley before feeling a hulking presence behind him. He turned abruptly and immediately recognized Bill Armstrong emerging from between parked cars.
Armstrong was about the same size as Brady though a couple of years older. He’d been a mechanic since graduating from high school. Married his high-school sweetheart. As far as Brady knew, he’d been doing okay for himself and his family until his daughter committed suicide and a few weeks later, his son died.
