Hidden - Laura Griffin Page 0,86
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JACOB EYED THE black Expedition, and he approached it. No one inside, from the looks of it. He was almost certain it was the same SUV he’d seen earlier, and he wanted to check the plates.
His phone vibrated with a text from Bailey.
On St. Ann walking toward hotel.
Jacob glanced around for the nearest street sign. Half a block up was St. Ann Street.
He jogged across the street to the Expedition. With one glance, he confirmed his suspicion: Illinois plates.
“Fuck.”
He broke into a run.
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SHE WAS ALMOST there. One more block. Tabitha skimmed the faces of the waiting cabbies, trying to decide who might be willing to move out of line to pick her up. The cabbie at the end of the line caught her eye. She waved, and he nodded.
A man stepped from a doorway in front of her. Tall, bulky, thick dark eyebrows. He wore a heavy jacket and walked toward her with a hand in his pocket.
Tabitha dove behind a car.
Pop!
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BAILEY’S HEART LURCHED at the gunshot. She dove between two cars and landed heavily on her knees. Gun gun gun! The words reverberated through her brain, along with the echo of the sound. Chest heaving, she crawled around the side of the car and peeked out.
The sidewalk was empty.
Then she heard yelling, car horns, a squeal of tires. A taxicab zoomed past in a blur.
Bailey peeked at the sidewalk again just in time to see Tabitha with her black Saints cap as she scrambled across the sidewalk and dashed into a bar.
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AFTER WATCHING FROM a distance as the gunman fled into the crowd, Jacob had jumped into a cab to go after him. Now he spotted the man racing down the sidewalk.
“Pull over up here!” he yelled. “Stop!”
The cabbie screeched to a halt, and Jacob jumped out.
The gunman darted around a horse-drawn carriage and took off across the square. Jacob sprinted after him, hurdling a flower bed and dodging a bride and groom posing by a fountain. The gunman was fast, and he seemed to be racing straight for the cathedral.
Jacob’s heart clenched as he thought of the potential hostage situation if the shooter grabbed a tourist. This whole place was crawling with kids and families. Jacob hurdled another flower bed and cut through a group of people.
The gunman darted up the steps and into the cathedral, realizing Jacob’s worst fears.
Cursing, Jacob charged after him. He took the church steps three at a time, yanked open the heavy door, and rushed inside.
Jacob stopped to get his bearings, and his heart pounded wildly as his eyes adjusted. The church was dim and quiet and smelled of incense. They were between services. A few women sat in pews and other visitors milled along the side aisles lighting votive candles.
A shrill yelp shattered the quiet, followed by a loud clatter near the altar. Jacob rushed toward the noise, pulling his weapon. Reaching the sacristy, he found a robe-clad altar boy sprawled on the floor beside a toppled candelabra.
A door slammed. Jacob raced down a hallway toward the sound. He yanked a door open and ran outside, tripping over a clay flower pot that had been hurled into the path.
“Hey!” An elderly black man lifted his cane and pointed toward the square. “He ran that way!”
Jacob spotted the gunman and took off. The shooter sprinted left, then right again, seeming to change his destination on the fly. Jacob ran harder and harder until it felt like his lungs would burst. As he raced around a big bronze statue, the gunman changed directions again, darting around a park bench and running straight for a stoplight.
Jacob looked ahead with dread. He saw the move the instant before it happened. The shooter raced up to a motorcyclist, pointing his gun at the man’s chest. He yanked the man off the bike, flinging him onto the street just as the light turned green.
Horns blared. People stopped and pointed at the spectacle. The man threw his leg over the motorcycle and took off.
Jacob rushed into the intersection. Brakes squealed. Horns blasted. Jacob planted his feet and took aim at the back tire. But he was well out of range.
“Fuck!”
The motorcycle got smaller and smaller as it cut between lanes and disappeared in the sea of traffic.
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BAILEY JOGGED DOWN the alley behind the sports bar. The woman in the black Saints cap had run out the back