"He's scampered, but we'll track him down easily enough. "
If we didn't, then the organization behind all this would. If T. J. had any sense, he'd come to that same conclusion and turn himself in. Even so, I reached into my pocket and drew out the scrap of paper Cass had given me earlier. "Here is his address. You might as well add it to your report, because I need to rest before I write up mine. "
He nodded and slipped the piece of paper into an evidence bag. I glanced around at the sound of footsteps, and watched another two ambulance officers walk a stretcher past. This time, the person on it was in a bag. I hadn't saved them all. I couldn't have saved them all, and yet some small part of me regretted that. Quinn slipped his hand into mine, gently entwining our fingers and squeezing lightly. Comforting without saying a word.
My gaze returned to Cole. "Have you seen a woman named Cass?"
"Yeah. She went to the hospital with one of the women. Why?"
"Because she saved my life and I just wanted to thank her again. "
"Then she's someone I need to thank, as well," Quinn said. "She saved me from having to bring back the dead. "
Cole raised an eyebrow, expression suggesting he was unsure whether Quinn was joking or not. I didn't bother enlightening him but simply said, "Did Jack tell you about the top floor? It's bristling with security equipment guarding a phone and God knows what else. "
He nodded. "Dusty's up there now, hacking into the system. It shouldn't take him long to get in. Do you want to be advised when we do?"
I hesitated, then shook my head. "I'll just read the report. I really need to go home, grab a shower, then rest. "
His gaze swept me, and his voice was wry as he said, "Oh, I don't know. Bloodstained blue silk looks quite fetching on you. "
And if I didn't watch it, that would be all my life contained. Bloodstains. On my skin, in my soul. I forced a smiled then walked away, Quinn by my side.
I raised a hand to cut the glare of the sun as we walked out of the building, pausing on the front step as I looked down the street. My car was still parked where I'd left it.
I squinted down to the other end of the street but couldn't see Quinn's car. "Where's your car parked?"
"A few streets over. I abandoned it when I felt you slipping too fast. " He bent to kiss me, his lips still cool on mine. "I'll be right behind you within a minute. "
"It's not like I'm going to pass out while I'm driving," I said. "I'm really not that weak. "
He smiled, and lightly touched my nose. "You lie, Riley Jenson, but I appreciate the effort. "
With that, he turned and walked away. I watched him for several seconds, enjoying the lithe, economical way he moved, then turned and headed for my car.
Within minutes I'd joined the steady flow of traffic heading for the city. Quinn's black Porsche was three cars behind me.
We were on Queens Road, cruising past Albert Park, when I saw the truck. It was on the other side of the road and driving way too fast, its movements erratic, swiping the cars that were trying to get out of its way and sending them spinning into others.
I edged over into the other lane, hoping that would keep me out of harm's way. After surviving a silver bullet, the last thing I wanted was to be mown down by a goddamn truck.
I couldn't see any cops behind the truck, but they surely couldn't be too far away. The driver was obviously high on either drugs or alcohol, and someone would have reported him by now.
He drew closer, but the sheer height of the cab and the darkened windows made it almost impossible to see the driver. He was little more than a dark shadow, and for some reason, the small hairs on the back of my neck rose.
Which was ridiculous.
He was just another idiot in the grip of some form of substance abuse or this was his idea of fun driving. I'd seen plenty like him before, and I had no doubt I'd see plenty in the future.
And yet something suddenly felt wrong.
I watched him draw closer, my fingers tense on the wheel. The truck swerved away from my side of the road and, for an instant, I felt safe.
But I'd barely relaxed my grip when the truck's tires squealed and the huge grille suddenly filled my vision. I cursed and ripped the wheel sideways as I hit the gas pedal. The car half spun as it surged forward and the truck hit the rear, smashing me into a lamppost. The impact flung me about violently and the side airbags popped, catching my head before it could hit the window. Metal crumpled as the passenger side of the car bent around the post.
We'd barely come to a standstill when another car hit us head-on. It tore my car away from the pole and sent it skidding backward, the windshield shattering under the impact and spraying me with glass. For a moment I couldn't see anything, my vision filled with white bags and the steam erupting from my engine. I eased up on the gas pedal, but it didn't make a damn bit of difference. I reached forward and turned the key, shutting the engine off. Moisture ran down the side of my face as I moved, stinging my eyes. I swiped at it irritably, and my fingers came away bloody. I hadn't even felt a bump to the head.
Over the groaning of metal and the hiss of escaping steam came the deep-throated growl of the truck's engine. The driver was still moving, still finding targets. And Quinn's car had been three behind mine.