Cady.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
No!
Horrified, Bree rushed forward.
“Call an ambulance.” Matt kicked off his shoes and climbed over the railing. “And get Holly.”
He jumped.
Cursing, Bree leaned over the railing. He splashed into the water, then she saw nothing but blackness. Her eyes searched the river downstream, but all she saw were occasional light-colored rocks and spots of white water. The rest of the river was too dark. No Cady. No Matt. No Brody. She turned back toward the road. She couldn’t swim with a bullet hole in her arm. Matt would end up needing to rescue her as well.
Damn it.
Holly was racing toward the other end of the bridge. Bree went after her. As she ran, she pulled out her cell phone and called for an ambulance, a water rescue team, and additional backup. “The kidnapping victim and Investigator Flynn went over the edge. I’m in pursuit of the suspect.”
Bree’s arm ached, but there was nothing wrong with her legs. She tucked her arm close to her side and turned on the speed. Adrenaline pumped into her bloodstream. Ahead, Holly was stumbling. She’d sprinted the first fifty feet on pure instinct, but her lack of fitness was showing. Bree gained on her.
She caught up with her before the end of the bridge. Headlights approached.
Backup!
Charged with anger and determination, Bree dived forward. She threw an arm around Holly’s waist and took her to the ground. They hit the pavement in a tangle of arms and legs. Bree felt her stitches pop. Warmth rushed out of her wound, but she didn’t care. After a quick burst of white-hot agony, adrenaline blunted the pain. She flipped Holly to her stomach.
“You’re under arrest.” Bree pulled the handcuffs from her belt. In her peripheral vision, she saw the headlights of the approaching vehicle come to a stop. She glanced over her shoulder at the approaching vehicle, but the LED lights blinded her.
Holly tried to crawl away. On her hands and knees, she kicked out at Bree’s face.
Bree caught the kicking foot and yanked hard. Holly went down on her face, and blood spurted from her nose. Panting, Bree planted a knee into her back.
Holly lifted her face from the road and spat blood. “Fuck you.”
Bree snapped one cuff around a wrist, then reached for the second.
“Hold it!” a male voice shouted.
Bree froze.
Not backup. Owen.
She looked over her shoulder. He stood about fifteen feet away, a gun in his hand. Rain plastered his hair to his head.
“Is that Paul’s gun?” she asked, trying to stall. Backup should be there any moment.
“Yep,” he said. “Slide your gun toward me.”
Bree slid her Glock from its holster, set it on the road, and gave it a half-hearted push.
Owen frowned as the weapon stopped just three feet from Bree, a dozen feet short of him. “Get off my wife.”
Slowly, Bree slid off Holly. Bent forward, she rested her hands on her thighs and worked to catch her breath. Holly turned, sat up, and slapped Bree across the face. Bree overexaggerated her response, falling to the side and onto her hands and knees on the wet road. Holly jumped forward and kicked her in the ribs. Pain exploded in Bree’s abdomen. Her lungs expelled all their air and locked up. She dry heaved in the road.
Holly spat on her. “Get up, bitch.” She turned toward Owen. “Love you, baby.”
“Love you too.” He smiled. A siren sounded in the distance. Bree braced one foot under her body, as if ready to lever herself to her feet.
“We’d better kill her quick and get out of here.” Owen held out his free hand for his wife. “Come here, baby.”
“One second.” Holly kicked Bree in the thigh. “You broke my nose.”
Bree drew her backup piece from her ankle holster and dived for the street. Owen fired at her. A bullet ricocheted off the blacktop a few feet away. Her good shoulder hit the pavement. She rolled over once, leveled her weapon at Owen, and pulled the trigger three times. His body jerked. Three dark spots bloomed on his chest. He dropped his gun, collapsed onto his knees, and face-planted in the road.
“No!” Holly’s voice echoed with despair. Water and blood sluiced down her face.
Bree walked to her and grabbed the handcuff dangling from one wrist. She spun her around and levered the other behind her back. The second handcuff closed with a resounding snap.
Bree tightened the cuffs, then forced Holly onto her knees. “Don’t move.”
She leaned down and pressed two fingers to the side of Owen’s neck, but