Beneath Blackwater River Leslie Wolfe (me reader txt) 📖

her back to her feet as if she were a ragdoll. “Who the hell are you?” Then he’d turned away, slammed the door behind him and left, the house engulfed in darkness the moment he departed.

She’d made a terrible mistake trying to be that girl. Now only one question remained unanswered.

How would he kill her?

42Blood Money

Kay watched like a hawk as the emergency response team worked to stabilize Jacob. She didn’t challenge them or ask unnecessary questions––she wanted them focused on saving his life. Every now and then she wiped tears from her eyes, but she stayed focused, alert, ready to intervene.

Hanging by a thread, Jacob’s life depended on a number of factors, and the EMTs were addressing them in perfect order of priority, following their ABCs: airway, breathing, circulation. Jacob was already intubated and hooked up to monitors. They had stopped the bleeding with QuikClot, and his blood pressure had stopped dropping.

He’d been lucky, as far as luck could be mentioned about someone who’d taken two rounds to the upper body. Both bullets had missed the heart and main arteries; he still had a fighting chance, however slim. One had pierced his upper right lung and the other had entered his lower abdomen. Knowing what that meant for Jacob’s chances, Kay whimpered, trembling hard, feeling she could barely stand on her shaky legs.

She overheard the driver calling it in on the radio. “Franklin Medical, this is Mobile 5. We’re ready to roll with male GSW upper body double tap. Have trauma ready. ETA five minutes.”

Rushing to the driver’s window, she’d pounded against the glass until he lowered it. The man scowled at her, but eased up when he saw her badge. “Dr. Sharp, sheriff’s office. Franklin Medical Center is a Level III trauma center. It can’t handle my brother’s surgery. Go to Redding.”

“Ma’am, um, sorry, but we have procedures. I’m sure you understand. Franklin will transfer after they stabilize, if they need to.”

How sure was she Jacob should be taken to Redding? What if he didn’t survive the commute? Should she throw her weight against the system and its procedures to get an exception? She was a psychologist, not a surgeon; she was a shrink with experience in catching killers.

Her head hung for a moment, while the driver muttered, “Figures,” and rolled up his window.

She rushed to the back of the ambulance just as they were ready to close the doors, but didn’t climb next to the stretcher. A difficult choice, yet the only one possible, considering the circumstances. Jacob had a team of professionals to take care of him, and, hopefully, a Level III trauma center would be enough to save his life. But Nicole had no one. Other than Kay, no one knew Nicole’s life was in jeopardy, and that left Kay with only one possible choice.

She reached inside the ambulance and touched Jacob’s leg. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, “but I knew you’d understand.” Tears slid down her cheeks, but she didn’t even notice. She threw her brother one long look, and squeezed his ankle. “Hang in there, little brother. You can pull this off.” Then she slammed the door and tapped against the window twice, telling the driver he could be on his way.

Red flashers and piercing sirens filled the night. Watching the ambulance disappear onto the highway, she heaved, sobs fighting to come out forcefully after having been locked in her chest for so long.

She felt strong arms grasping and holding her, and the heat of Elliot’s body weakened her knees. She clung to him, seeking his eyes, and found what she was looking for. His strength, his courage, a partner she could count on. “I did this, Elliot, I got Jacob shot,” she cried. “If he dies…” Her words trailed off as her mind grappled with the inconceivable alternative.

“What happened?” Elliot asked, supporting her gently. “Do you want to catch up with them?”

“I can’t,” she said, afraid her words would stop in her throat. She forced the cold air into her lungs, ignoring the shivers it spread into her body. “He’s got Nicole, and he’s going to kill her.”

He stared at her for a split second, his expression one of utter confusion. He had no idea who Nicole was. Letting go of his arm, she climbed into his SUV. Moments later, he’d started the engine and was headed for the highway as she filled him in with few words.

“He’s going to kill her, Elliot, I know he will. We have to find her.” She gave him Scott’s home address. “It’s a long shot, but maybe he took her back home.”

He drove fast, lights on and siren blaring, while she put out a BOLO on Scott’s personal and work vehicles. Now cops everywhere would be looking for him.

“We spoke last night, and it feels like ages,” he said. Although she was trying to figure out where a man like Scott would take his wife to kill her, she sensed the sadness in Elliot’s voice. She looked at him, but couldn’t read his gaze, her eyes still clouded by tears. “I should’ve been there for you.”

“That’s not your job, Elliot,” she pushed back, although his statement warmed her heart.

“If it’s not your partner’s job to have your back, then whose is it?”

She didn’t reply. Seconds dragged like hours on the way to Scott’s house. When they eventually reached the place, it was completely dark. No trace of the deputy’s patrol car anywhere in sight.

“Now what? Where could he possibly be, and how do we find him?” she yelled, desperation strangling her. She’d never felt so powerless, so out of options. Nicole could already be dead by now, or she could be, in a matter of minutes. She’d seen what Scott’s rage could do. “We’re never going to get to her in time,” she said, sounding defeated, as if everything had been already lost.

Without saying a word, Elliot pulled a phone number from the media center’s memory and tapped it to dial. “I have an