Shane stared at the GPS. He was tracking the car that was taking Belle to some unknown destination. “Trollinger just took a right off of 287 onto Wyoming 135. About an hour ahead.”
An hour too much.
* * * *
Belle heard a siren. Please, God.
Trollinger’s car came to a stop.
The siren stopped.
Even her breathing stopped.
In that instant, everything came to a standstill in the deafening silence.
Belle screamed as loud as she could and kicked the lid of the trunk.
She heard gunshots.
The trunk opened.
Kip’s sister glared at her, holding a gun. “Sit up, bitch.”
She held her hands above her head. “Relax, Cindy.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw they were on a road that looked deserted other than the patrol car behind them.
“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do. I’m the one in charge. Take a look at what you made me do.”
The car’s lights were still flashing, and the officer was on the ground bleeding.
“Let m
e go to him, Cindy.” She could see the man was still breathing. “I can help.”
“Fucking do-gooder.” The woman walked over to the poor man and shot two more bullets into his head.
Belle’s heart stopped.
“Try that again, Belle, and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes. Am I clear?”
* * * *
Shane watched the dot on the screen start to move again, and his jaw clenched. Trollinger was getting away.
The deputy who had spotted the vehicle ten minutes ago, according to Sheriff Rose, his superior, had yet to radio back in.
Shane suspected the worst. Please let Belle be okay.
Jason had Rose on his cell’s speaker. The sheriff was driving to the spot where Deputy Clarkson had reported pulling Trollinger over. Rose was three miles from the location. Corey kept closing the gap, but they were still at least forty-five minutes away.
Everyone in the van sat in silence, anxious to hear what the sheriff would find.
“I see flashing lights up ahead,” Rose informed. “That’s got to be Clarkson’s car.”
They all held their breaths.
“Oh my God. Clarkson’s on the ground. He’s been shot in the head. My deputy is dead.”
Fuck.