“Come on, Penny.”
“I’m washing my hands.” She turned the water on, reached under the cabinet, and pressed her hand against the base of the sink. She did the same near the back of the toilet bowl. Then she snagged a few hairs from her head and dropped them behind the picture on the wall. Her last act was to shut the sink off, take her cell phone, and type as much as she could before the next knock.
“Penny! Come on! Do I need to come in there?” The knob rattled.
It would have to be enough. He was going to kick the door in if she didn’t hurry up. She slid the phone under the large armoire-like corner cabinet, then stood.
With a prayer on her lips, she opened the door. “What’s the rush, silly? I—”
A liquid spray hit her in the face and she gasped. Exactly the wrong thing to do. Whatever he’d sprayed her with burned her lungs. Carson’s face blurred. “What—”
She went to her knees before Carson caught her. “It’s okay, Penny, don’t fight it.”
1
PRESENT DAY
THURSDAY, 11:00 AM
NOVEMBER
Officer Chloe St. John pulled her SUV to a stop on the Gervais Street Bridge behind the teeming chaos just ahead. A cargo van had crossed the double yellow line and gone headlight to headlight with an eighteen-wheeler, causing a minivan to slam into the rear left corner of the trailer. All in all, the fifteen-car pileup had caused multiple injuries and fatalities.
She climbed out and the rain hit her in the face. Chloe shuddered. The torrential downpours that had hit Columbia over the last seventy-two hours had caused the water under the bridge to turn into a raging, turbulent force to be reckoned with. At least today only a light drizzle fell from the still-swollen gray clouds.
And then the victims’ terror reached her. As did an explosive splash.
“A second car just went over!”
“Help me!”
“Over here!”
Sirens screamed. Rescuers shouted orders. Chloe raced to the edge of the bridge and looked over. Divers were already in the water. One of them was probably her brother, Brady. She sent up a silent prayer for his safety and the others’.
She returned to her vehicle and released Hank, her Dutch shepherd K-9, from his special area, and he hopped down beside her, quivering with energy and ready to work. She scratched his silky ears. “Hold tight, boy. Let’s get our bearings.”
EMS was already on the scene as well as multiple fire trucks and police cars. A helicopter hovered overhead. Chloe spotted a familiar face. Right where she said she’d be. “Izzy!”
Her sister turned, tension lining her features. “Chloe, glad you’re here. Bring Hank.”
Chloe and Hank trotted over to Izzy, who stood next to a woman holding an infant wrapped in a blue blanket. A paramedic rummaged through the bag on the ground. Chloe recognized the medic. Alice Johnson. The EMT looked at Izzy. “Can you bandage this?” A gash over the victim’s left eye looked like it needed stitches.
“Yes. Go.” She took the bandage.
Alice paused, then headed for her ambulance. “She needs a blanket. Hang on.”
“Is your baby hurt?” Chloe asked the woman.
“No.” The victim’s jaw trembled and shivers wracked her. “She’s fine, I think.” Shock. Alice passed Izzy a blanket and she wrapped it around the woman, who hunched under it, checking to make sure her baby was covered as well.
“I’ve got to go.” She spun.
“Hey, I need tape,” Izzy called.
The woman tossed her a roll. “I’ll be back.”
Priorities.
“What’s going on besides the obvious?” Chloe asked.
“We found drugs,” Izzy said. She held the white bandage to the woman’s head. “This thing is way too big. I need some scissors, and of course, she didn’t leave me any.”
“Hold on.” Chloe reached behind her service weapon into a small pocket on her holster and pulled out a Swiss army knife.
Izzy took it and used the scissors to cut the bandage to size. She handed the knife back to Chloe, then taped the bandage to the woman’s head. With a soft pat to the bowed shoulder, she said, “Sit tight, okay? They’ll get you to the hospital as soon as they can.”
Izzy stood and directed Chloe to the side of the road. “The drugs came from one of the vehicles and we need you and Hank to figure out which one. We suspect it’s the eighteen-wheeler sitting over there, but a cursory search hasn’t turned up any more and we’re too busy trying to help keep people alive to do a more thorough search.” Izzy was a detective, but she was also trained as a first responder. “The critical ones are being transported to the hospital immediately, of course, but we’re matching patients with cars, so we need Hank to do his thing. When we know which vehicle the drugs came from, we’ll know who to arrest. If the person’s still alive. So far we’ve got four DOAs and a couple of others who looked close to joining them.”
“Where did you find the drugs?”
“This way.”
Chloe followed Izzy through the ruckus. She sidestepped two paramedics rushing past her and pushing a stretcher. Izzy stopped beside the vehicle that had slammed into the back of the eighteen-wheeler. White powder from a couple plastic bags lay in the middle of the lane. Which meant there was probably more where that had come from. Question was, where had it come from? The truck or the van or the SUV that had T-boned the van? Or had someone thrown it out when they realized cops were going to be covering the area?
“You’re sure it’s drugs?”
Izzy shrugged. “Figured Hank would tell us.”
He took one whiff and sat. “There’s your answer.”
“I’m stunned.” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Want to see if he can find any more?”
“We’re on it.” Chloe led Hank to the damaged vehicle behind the tractor trailer. “Hank, find the dope.” Most commands were given in Dutch, but not this one. Hank went to work, sniffing the seats, the tires, the trunk.
And got nothing.
“This one’s clean,” Chloe said.
She led him toward the cab of the eighteen-wheeler to have the trailer doors opened. Officers Josiah Henry and Olivia Nash had the driver out of the cab and were questioning him. The man looked to be unhurt, but it was obvious he wasn’t happy. “I’m going to be late making my delivery and I’m going to get fired. I need to get out of here now!”
“Where do you think you’re going to go? You’re trapped right now.”
“I can push through with the truck if you’ll just get everyone out of the way.”
Chloe shook her head. What an idiot.
He spotted Hank and Chloe heading his way and his eyes went wide. He shoved Olivia into Josiah, climbed back into the seat of the cab, quick as a monkey up a tree.
Olivia grabbed the door handle and yanked. It was locked. She jumped up onto the step board and yelled that the passenger had scrambled out of the other side.
Chloe crouched to see the man’s legs underneath the trailer, then she and Hank sprinted back toward the minivan to cut him off.
“Hank, apport!” The command to get him. Chloe pulled her weapon.
Hank shot away from her, his sleek brown-and-black body a blur as he easily caught up with the fleeing man, who held a pistol in one hand. The dog lunged and latched onto the arm with the weapon, and the two of them went to the ground, with the man screaming his agony. “Get him off me! Get him off!” And yet he still clutched the gun. Victims screamed and ducked.
“Drop the weapon!” Chloe raced toward them. She was joined by two other cops, Greg and Sharon. All three of their voices blended as one. “Let go of the weapon and I’ll call him off! Drop it! Now!”
Their perp stilled and Chloe slammed her foot down on the hand that held the gun. Sharon dropped a knee into his upper back and grabbed his left arm.
He let out another howl as Chloe leaned over and yanked the weapon from his now slack fingers. “You broke my hand!”
“Hank, los, laat los!” The order to let go.