Expired Getaway (Last Chance County #7) - Lisa Phillips Page 0,112
was true.
One of the men frowned. Another shifted. The older man said, “If I knew your name and why you were asking, I might be inclined to explain we’re currently conducting a full search of the building and the surrounding area. If he’s here, we’ll flush him out.”
“Good.” Bridget didn’t feel the need to explain who she was.
These guys needed to concentrate on finding Clarke, not going over everything she knew for their reports. All that could come later. Bridget would’ve preferred to get in on the search, but the FBI would never allow an unknown civilian to join their team for an operation. They had no idea who she was, or exactly how personal this was for her.
“I need to go speak with Eric.” Millie squeezed her elbow. “He’ll be okay.”
Bridget nodded. “Yeah, he will.”
She didn’t want to consider the fact Aiden could die from the injuries he’d sustained. Because of her. She knew he’d never blame her for it. But it was just another way she had ruined his life. That was the core of it.
The FBI personnel broke off to their own conversation, leaving her standing around by herself. Her phone rang once. She looked at the screen. Sasha. Bridget looked around until she found her colleague in a sea of people and jogged over.
“You don’t look so good.”
Given everything she’d been through? She figured she probably looked pretty good, all things considered. But there was no point arguing with Sasha who never had a hair out of place. “Clarke is going to look worse when they find him. That’s what I’m focusing on.”
Sasha studied her.
“What? Why do you look like you’re up to something?” Never mind the fact Bridget usually regretted asking Sasha what she was up to. And she would definitely regret participating. “Don’t tell me you have Clarke stuffed in the trunk of your car.”
She wouldn’t put something like that past this woman.
“Let’s go for a wander around.” That meant no. “See if we can be useful.”
Bridget walked with her, even though she’d have to argue with her sentiment. “Every time you try to be useful…”
“Are you going to expect me to apologize for keeping Sydney safe for the rest of our lives? Because that’s already old.”
Bridget took a few seconds to try to be honest with herself. What exactly did she want from Sasha? Did she want remorse? Bridget had to wonder if remorse was what she was seeking in exchange for her friend’s forgiveness. Correction: supposed friend. She knew full well, though, that remorse wasn’t a prerequisite for forgiveness. Her ability to offer what God commanded her to do didn’t depend on Sasha’s feelings, whether she felt guilty or remorseful. But she still needed more time to digest these whirling thoughts.
“I can’t talk about this right now.”
She walked with Sasha around the corner of a building, onto a dark side street where Sasha beeped the locks on her car remote. “Why don’t you go to the hospital? I’ll take care of things here.” The trunk popped open. She reached in and pulled out a case. “I have stuff to do.”
Bridget stared her down. “You’re not letting Clarke leave here, are you?”
A sniper rifle. Sasha was going to park herself on the nearest roof. And when the FBI brought out Clarke, she was going to take the shot.
Kill him.
Problem solved.
She’d known her friend long enough to piece it all together.
Sasha set her hand on her hip. “I need the FBI to capture him, and I need time to set up. So whatever you’re planning to say because you disagree with the choice I’m making, do it fast.”
“Don’t kill him.” She had to have known that was what Bridget would say. A mark like that would leave an indelible stain on Sasha’s soul. Knowing Sasha was doing it for Bridget meant there would be one on Bridget’s also. “Please, don’t do this.”
“You’d rather he lives so he can continue to plague you and your family?”
“You’re doing it all over again. Making decisions that affect me because you think it’s the right thing to do, but neglecting to loop me in.”
Sasha rolled her eyes. “What do you think this conversation is? Because it’s not for my enjoyment, that’s for sure.”
“I’m supposed to be thankful you’re telling me? I could turn you into the FBI. Tell them it was you.”
Sasha’s eyebrows rose. “You’d do that? Clarke would be left alive. You know he’s going to be questioned. Everything we do will be exposed. That puts all