Damon continued shouting, keeping him on track, as they headed into the children's area. It was all but empty and that's where she made her mistake. Finn might be big, but he was in top condition - and she wasn't. As the gap between them closed, she kept glancing over her shoulder, slowing herself down all the more, but unable to stop checking.
Finn broke into an all-out sprint. The girl weaved toward a quartet of retirees enjoying cotton candy under a tree, away from the fair hubbub. Alarm flashed over their faces as they spotted a man chasing a young woman. Finn waved his badge, and they fell back to give him room. The girl swerved straight for one of the women.
"Finn!" Damon shouted. "She's got - "
Finn saw the woman backpedal, frantically trying to move aside. Then the confusion in her face turned to horror. Her husband pitched toward her, hands out, as if to shove her from the girl's path. But he was too far away. The girl was bearing down on her, a gun in her outstretched hand. The woman screamed. The gun fired. The woman tottered back, eyes wide with disbelief. Then the girl gave the woman a shove, knocking her down like a bowling pin.
Shot her, shoved her out of the way and kept going.
Finn skidded beside the woman as her husband dove for her.
"Finn!" Damon shouted. "No! That's what she wants. They've got it. Keep going."
Finn sent a silent apology to the woman... and raced past her, shouting back for them to call 911.
He could see the girl's yellow shirt ahead, but he had to slow, calling his backup. And though he didn't stop moving, didn't stop watching that yellow shirt, by the time he reached the midway, she had too much of a head start. She disappeared into the first large mob. He caught a glimpse of her once on the other side, but by the time he made it through the crowd, she was gone.
The backup team had shut down all exits and was patrolling the perimeter. They were still searching the park, but in his gut, Finn knew she'd gotten away. He'd seen how easy it had been for her to sneak into the park. She wouldn't have bothered with the exit. She'd have found another way out, dodged patrols and escaped. And she'd have done it right away, knowing she'd bought a limited amount of time with her distraction.
She had shot that woman to slow Finn down. Of all the senseless reasons you could have for killing someone, there was none as cold as that.
She could have knocked the woman off her feet. Could have fired the gun in the air. Could have winged her shoulder. But she hadn't. She'd looked a stranger in the face and killed her.
And now Finn stood near the crowd surrounding the fallen woman, and while everyone else's attention was on the paramedics working frantically to revive her, his was on two people sitting apart on the curb. Damon and the woman's ghost.
Damon held the woman's hands, leaning in close and talking to her as she nodded numbly, her gaze fixed on the crowd around her body. Finn stayed where he was. There was nothing the woman could add that would help him solve her murder, and there was nothing Finn could add that would comfort her more than Damon already was.
Gradually, the woman's shock seemed to thaw. She added words to her nods. Then she made eye contact with Damon while she spoke to him. Finally she twisted to face him. He said something, and she nodded and replied. He helped her to her feet and, still holding one of her hands, led her to the edge of the crowd.
Damon stopped there, releasing her hand. She took his back, squeezing it and saying something. Then, leaving him on the edge, she walked to where her husband knelt beside her body, tears streaming down his face. She stood behind him and touched the top of his head, stroking it even as her fingers passed through. Her husband stopped. He lifted his head. She smiled and bent, murmuring, hand still resting on his head.
Then she was gone.
* * *
ROBYN
Robyn followed Hope onto the path. They'd emerged near the barricade. Hope looked around, then jammed the gun into the back of her jeans like an action-movie chick.
"Which shoulder was it?" Hope asked.
"What?"
Hope waved for her to sit on the barrier. "Which shoulder were you shot in?" When Robyn paused, Hope prodded her until she was sitting, then said, "Take off your shirt," as she pulled what looked like a first-aid kit from her pocket.
"Karl..."
Hope glanced toward the forest, then blinked, erasing a flash of worry. "He'll be fine. Let's get that shoulder cleaned up before we go."
Robyn shed the shirt and Hope set to work, as competent as any field medic.
I don't know her. I don't know her at all.
She shivered.
"Cold?"
Hope took off her denim jacket and started pulling it around Robyn's bare shoulders. Then her face lifted, eyes closing. A soft gasp. When she opened her eyes, Robyn saw the same gleam from before, now fading into a glow of rapture.