“We have a room of people watching Keely. What did you see?”
He motioned toward the opposite wing. “Movement. A man.”
Flynn pushed past him, and he limped-hopped behind her.
The back door hung open, just a crack.
Where was Gil?
“Outside,” he hissed over Keely’s song and headed toward the door.
Gil sat on the snowy ground, bleeding from the head but still conscious. “He’s getting away!” Gil pointed, and Dawson spotted a man moving through the parking lot, under the splotch of lights.
He took off, limping hard, but Flynn shot out past him.
“Go around—block his exit!” He pointed toward the other row of cars.
She ran to cut him off, her gun already unholstered.
The man stopped at an old model truck with a topper just like the one Mars Sorros had used in his escape. Dawson cut through cars. “Stop!”
His voice jerked the man. He rounded on him, and it was just long enough for Flynn to surprise him. She stopped, her gun on him. “Get down! Get down!”
He sank to his knees, arms up.
The surrender hiccupped through Dawson. Something—
“On the ground!”
Dawson caught up to Flynn. She took the man’s hand, put him in a submission hold, her knee on his back. “Get backup.”
He turned and spotted Gil heading their way, holding a handkerchief to his head. “Gil! Get on the radio. We need police backup.”
Conan wasn’t moving, and Dawson’s instincts gave a jolt. After everything Conan had done to escape, this felt too easy. He turned, saw Gil on the radio, still heading their way.
“What?” Flynn said, clearly reading him.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” he said, glancing at Conan.
“I got this,” Flynn said.
Gil huffed over. He held zip ties and now stepped over to Flynn to secure the man.
“Don’t let him get away,” Dawson said to Flynn, and took off, limping hard toward the theater.
Too easy. Way too easy, and that thought took him by the throat and moved him into a painful run.
He wrenched open the door, struggled up the stairs, and heard the last of Keely’s song as the crowd applauded.
He stood in the dark, listening to his heartbeat.
Above the song, a whine sounded, as if from Caspian, high, worried—
His gut tightened.Diversion!Dawson headed toward the closed door of the greenroom, grabbed it.
Caspian jumped to his feet, barking.
Dawson froze.
