“No. Just you.”
“Then that means we’ve got a murderer and a hostage on the run. Get me out of here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Serena felt strong hands underneath her shoulder blades. The highway cop dragged her from the vehicle, and she felt a wild relief being freed from the claustrophobic compartment. He helped her up, but her head spun, and she sank back to her knees. Then she tried again, focusing on the solid ground underneath her feet. The aftereffects of the drug lingered in her head, but the combination of adrenaline and fear had begun to purge it from her system.
She studied her Mustang, which was a total loss. Its front end was crushed, the airbags deployed, all of its doors open, its windows shattered. It lay upside down, diagonally across the freeway lane, underneath an overpass.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“That’s Jay Cooke Road over our heads,” the cop replied.
“Did you see the other two get out of the car?”
“No, they were gone when I got here.”
Serena glanced at the concrete slope of the highway bridge and saw dark stains that looked like a blood trail leading up to the road over their heads.
“Are more police on their way?”
“Oh, yeah, we’ve scrambled everybody. Police, fire, medical. Southbound lanes are already shut down a mile back, and we’re doing the same on the northbound lanes.”
“How long was I out?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
Serena winced as a stab of pain knifed through her back. “Get hold of Lieutenant Jonathan Stride with the Duluth Police. Tell him we’ve got a murder suspect on the run. Mick ‘Jagger’ Galloway. He’s armed and dangerous, and he most likely has a seventeen-year-old girl named Delaney Candis as a hostage. Odds are, this guy will try to jack another car as soon as possible, so we need a perimeter around the area to keep him contained.”
“Mick Jagger? Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. You got all that?”
“Got it.”
Serena took a step toward the freeway shoulder, stopped to let the dizziness pass, then started walking again.
“You look like you should stay here,” the cop told her. “You’re in bad shape.”
“I’m not letting Delaney get killed,” Serena replied.
She crossed the highway lane to the guardrail, which had been flattened by the Mustang. She stepped over it, then climbed the slope of the overpass, following the blood trail. Everything hurt. Her arms, her legs, her chest, her head, even her teeth, as if she’d bitten down hard during the impact. She moved slowly. Near the top, she shifted into the weeds, which grew nearly waist-high, and she used her arms to scrape through the brambles. The effort left her gasping for breath.
Finally, she broke onto the hilltop. She winced at the headache that felt like a drill boring into her skull. With a groan, she swung her legs over another metal guardrail and stood on the asphalt surface of Jay Cooke Road. It was a two-lane country highway heading off into the night in both directions. Trees butted up to the road. There were no overhead lights, but the sky was clear, with a sliver of moon. She saw nothing down the road in both directions. Below her, the lanes of I-35 were devoid of traffic, too, except for the squad car with its flashing light bar. She looked at her feet and saw a few dark bloodstains leading away from the interstate toward Highway 61 half a mile away.
Serena tried to run, but she couldn’t muster the effort. The most she could manage was a fast, stumbling walk, and even that speed left her head throbbing. She squinted into the darkness. Where were they? There was still blood at her feet. They were still ahead of her.
She stopped to catch her breath again, and somewhere in the distance, she heard a stifled scream.
Delaney.
The girl’s voice wasn’t far away. Serena willed her legs to carry her faster, straight down the middle of Jay Cooke Road, with the evergreens squeezing in on both sides. A random cloud covered the moon, making the night even darker. She couldn’t let Jagger get away. She couldn’t let him take that girl. And yet her strength was waning. Her mind was barely holding it together.
Down the road, headlights gleamed as a car turned off Highway 61 and headed toward her.
No!
If Jagger got to that car, he’d escape. She heard a shout, heard the screech of tires, heard two gunshots in quick succession. The headlights veered sideways but kept coming. The car accelerated wildly in a serpentine fashion, getting closer. Serena froze like a deer, hypnotized by the lights that pinned her on the highway, and then at the last moment, she threw herself onto the shoulder. The car rocketed past her, barely missing her.
With another shudder of pain, she stood up. She’d twisted an ankle as she fell, and when she tried to walk, putting any pressure on her foot felt like the clamp of a bear trap. She was close to fainting.
But she saw them. There they were.
The cloud slipped past the moon, and the dim light revealed two figures in the middle of the road.
“Jagger!” she screamed.
He didn’t try to run. She limped toward the two of them, her right leg dragging. As she got closer, she saw him standing like a dark tower, one arm locked around Delaney’s neck, her own gun pointed at the girl’s temple. Delaney’s eyes were wide with terror.
Jagger stayed where he was. Serena realized that he was badly hurt. His white face was ribboned with blood. His legs shuddered like trees in the wind, but he held fast to the girl and the gun.
“Delaney, are you okay?” Serena called.
Despite her fear, the girl nodded.
“Jagger, give it up,” Serena told him. “It’s over. The police are coming.”
She took a step closer.
“Don’t,” he hissed at her, his voice raspy. “Don’t move. I’ll shoot the girl.”
“You’re not going to do that,” Serena said. “You’re going to let her go. You want a hostage? Take me. I’m unarmed, Jagger. Let Delaney go, and I’ll go with you. That’s how you stay alive.”
She took another step toward him. She kept her arms out, her fingers spread wide, so he could see that she wasn’t lying. No gun.
“Come on, Jagger. Be smart.”
They were only about twenty feet apart now. With a snarl, he jabbed the gun harder against Delaney’s head. “Stop! ”
“Let her go,” Serena said again. “You want to kill someone? Kill me. You don’t need to hurt that girl.”
Jagger stared back with his eyes glazed by pain. His jaw was clenched, his teeth bared. He yanked the pistol away from Delaney and pointed it across the short distance at Serena. They faced each other down the yellow line of the highway. His arm wobbled, the barrel unsteady.
If he fired, he might hit her, or he might not. She took one more step. The closer she got, the easier target she was, but Serena didn’t care. Sometimes you have to stare down the devil to see how tough he really is.
“Let Delaney go,” she said again, her voice as steady as a rock.
The barrel of the gun was so close.
If he fired...
Serena heard a cacophony of wails getting louder and closer. It was the noise of sirens, drawing in on them from both directions. Beyond Jagger and Delaney, at the intersection with Highway 61, she saw the flashing red lights of at least four squad cars. They were behind her, too, roaring closer from I-35. The cars screeched to a stop. She didn’t have to look back to know they were blocking the road. The whirling lights made a kaleidoscope across the pavement and onto Jagger’s face.
“It’s over,” Serena said again. “There’s no way out.”
Over their heads, she heard the throb of a police helicopter hovering like an insect above the road. A cannon of white light shot from the machine, like theatre lights highlighting the three of them center stage.