She waited until the flashlight was pointed away from her. Then, cautiously, she stumbled to her feet and began to limp away from the car. She moved slowly but each step seemed to echo as loudly as a shout.
She’d only gone a few feet when she heard that grating voice again. “I know you’re there, girl. I can hear you splashing. Come on, now. Let’s talk this through.”
Harper bit her tongue. The one thing she absolutely couldn’t do was say a word. She might as well pin a bull’s-eye on her forehead. When a moment of silence had passed, she stumbled on, her feet sinking into the mud. Her lungs weren’t working right, and pulling her feet out of the muck took all her strength. In a few minutes she was winded.
Her left arm had begun to ache fiercely and she reached over to hold it steady. As she did, her hand brushed the hard lump against her side. It took her a second to realize what she was feeling.
The Glock.
In her panic, she’d forgotten all about it. Of course, she couldn’t be certain it would work. She’d been in water—it must have gotten wet.
Still, what if it did?
Reaching inside her jacket, she carefully unsnapped the clasp holding the gun in place and pulled it out.
Thanking whatever gods had seen to it that she broke her left arm instead of her right, she held the pistol steady.
“Come out, girl,” Dowell cajoled from somewhere near the car. “I’ve waited long enough. Every second I spent in that prison, I thought of this moment. Seventeen years I waited in that cell. It’s time.”
Harper was warmed by a surge of hatred. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. So many angry, true things.
But she stayed silent, the gun in her hand, and angled herself toward his voice.
If he came for her, she’d get him first.
As she waited, beneath the steady rush of rain, she noticed a new sound. It was far away, but getting closer.
She turned toward the road. A car—its headlights like long golden blades—appeared from the Savannah end of the highway, far away but moving straight toward them. Harper’s heart leaped.
If she could get to the road she could flag it down. Get help. Live.
But as she calculated her chances, her hope ebbed. She was too far away. She’d never make it. Dowell would see her.
She watched with bitter longing as the car swept down the road toward Tybee. It was going to pass right by them, never even realizing what was happening.
Just as she was beginning to despair, the car slowed. The driver must have noticed the SUV. Maybe seen the Camaro’s headlights. Whoever it was, they must have realized there’d been an accident.
By the time it reached the SUV, it was barely moving.
Then, miraculously, the car stopped.
Harper held her breath. Dowell had gone quiet. Had he seen it, too?
For a long moment, nothing happened. The headlights stayed on. The car didn’t move.
Finally, the engine switched off.
The wind had died down. Across the acre of marshland, she heard the sound of car doors opening and then closing hard.
Dowell must have heard it, too, because she heard him mutter, “Goddammit.”
His flashlight went out.
Hope rushed through Harper like heat. She longed to scream for help but he was too close. He could shoot her and have plenty of time left over to shoot whoever just got out of that car. So, she said nothing. And waited.
Above the sound of the rain, she heard Dowell stumbling through the water. He seemed to be heading toward the wreckage of the Camaro.
Harper strained her ears. What was he up to?
Near the road, the cold, white beams of two flashlights flickered on, moving steadily toward the wreckage of the Camaro.
“Harper?” a voice called out across the marshes.
Her heart stopped.
It was Luke and Daltrey, looking for her. Joy quickly turned to fear, however. They had no idea what they were walking into.
As she studied the terrain, she realized with horror what Dowell was planning. By moving closer to the Camaro he’d positioned himself right where they were heading.
If she called out to them, he’d kill her. If she didn’t, he’d kill them.
It was a trap.
Swiping the rain and mud from her eyes, she watched the flashlights moving toward the damaged car in tormented silence.
She couldn’t let them get hurt.
She drew a breath and shouted, “Luke! Dowell’s out here. Be careful—”