“You’re awful.”
“So I’ve heard.” Pescoli started the Jeep, flipped on the wipers, and backed out of the parking spot.
Alvarez actually grinned. “I don’t know if the sheriff will show up. He was still eyeball deep in a conversation with Nia Del Ray. I had to text him the info. Didn’t want to break up his moment to shine with the press.”
“Then, no,” Pescoli said, answering her own question. Ramming the Jeep into gear, she nosed out of the lot. ”He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity for a sound bite.”
“Even for capturing a serial killer?”
“Eh.” Pescoli tipped a gloved hand up and down. “Maybe. Maybe not.” She checked the street, then gunned the engine and cut in front of a slow-moving van of some kind.
Alvarez hung on. “Slow down, Detective. Remember, we don’t know that we’re going to find Calderone and even if we do and she survives, we still don’t have proof other than one lousy fingerprint that she’s the killer.”
Pescoli flipped on the overhead lights and siren. No time to waste.
Ryder didn’t bother gathering his things. He had to get Anne-Marie to the hospital. Nothing else mattered. Though she was a dead weight in his arms, he kicked open the door and carried her to the truck, trying like hell not to jar her, but feeling the clock ticking. Once at the pickup, he set her on the worn cushions then laid the passenger seat back as far into a reclining position as it would go. “Anne,” he called to her. “Anne-Marie? Darlin’, come on, now. Stay with me.”
Her eyes fluttered and he felt hope swell in his heart.
“We’re goin’ now,” he told her but her eyes didn’t track. “Hang on.” He closed the side door, then rounded the truck and climbed in, his keys already out of his pocket. Double-checking that the rig was in four-wheel drive, he flipped on the starter. The old engine fired. He found reverse and started to back up past the trees that had flanked the lane. The snow was deep, but his Dodge moved easily, cutting tracks through the powder to the wide spot in the lane a little farther back, an open space where he could turn his vehicle around and head to the main road. Hopefully, it had been plowed.
If so, within twenty minutes or so, he would be able to get Anne-Marie to the hospital. “Hang in there,” he said again, squinting through the snow. His back window was fogged and it was hard to see. He used his mirrors, trying to keep his truck on track. Almost at the place he hoped to swing the back end around, he caught a glimpse of something that appeared through the veil, a huge shadow looming behind him.
“What the hell?” He looked in the rearview mirror, and God Almighty, if there wasn’t another vehicle behind him, blocking his path. A grayish Ford Explorer. Older model.
Like the one he’d seen at the River View.
His heart nearly stopped. He thought of the shadow he’d seen earlier. Squinting, he didn’t see anyone inside the Explorer, but the interior was impossible to clearly discern through the snowfall. He glanced around the area. Was the vehicle there because of them or had it been parked by someone going cross-country skiing or snowshoeing or even poaching?
The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he thought about his pistol, hidden deep in the pocket of his jacket, just behind the passenger seat.
It didn’t matter. He just had to get around the thing.
He didn’t like it, but he had to deal with it.
He thought he could squeeze around one side, but he’d have to back around the Ford; there just wasn’t enough room between the trees to rotate his truck. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, his attention on the Explorer.
He didn’t notice her move.
Didn’t see it coming.
All of a sudden, quick as a rattler striking, Anne-Marie sat bolt upright, reached forward, and grabbed the handcuffs from his pocket. As he jerked, she managed to click one over his wrist. With a snap, the other was locked over the steering wheel.
“What the hell?” he said, pulling back, trying to release the lock.
As if she’d done it a thousand times, she slid his Glock from his jacket pocket, cut the engine, then opened the side door.
“Hey!”
“I told you I wasn’t going back, Ryder.”
“Wait! No! Anne-Marie! For the love of God! I was taking you to the frickin’ hospital!”
“Sure. Give me a break!” She slammed the door shut and took off running, racing along the tracks he’d just cut, hurrying back to the cabin.
Furious with hi
mself, with his damn gullibility where she was concerned, he pounded the wheel. Damn.