Turning the camera to face the car, she pulls her keys from her pocket, then unlocks the car and throws open the driver’s door. With the door open, it’s clear to see sitting in her door pocket is most definitely a syringe, with a hypodermic needle still attached to the end.
Immediately pulling his gun from his holster, Hank lifts it and aims it at Ms. Ortega.
“Police, step away from the vehicle,” Hank shouts clearly.
“No,” she shrieks. “You planted this. You’re setting me up.”
“Ms. Ortega, you just recorded yourself unlocking your car and opening the door. Now do as Officer Moorhouse has requested. Step away from the vehicle and slowly put your hands on your head.”
“I’m going to sue you and the entire police department for this,” she hisses, reluctantly taking a step to the side and putting her hands on her head.
“Walk slowly to the hood of the car, turn and face it,” Hank orders her, and she reluctantly does as he asks.
“Millions, I’m going to sue the police department for millions. You’ll all be working for me by the time I’m done with you,” she spits as Hank brings her hands behind her back and secures them with his cuffs.
Pulling my own gun from the holster again, I cautiously make my way to the back of the vehicle, then hit the trunk release button, keeping my gun aimed at the trunk as it lifts and reveals a bound, gagged, and unconscious Starling Lockwood.
“Holy fuck,” I say to myself, quickly re-holstering my gun before I reach in and press my finger to the pulse point in her neck, praying she’s still alive. The moment I feel the reassuring thud against my finger, I almost sag with relief.
“What’s in there, Chief?” Hank calls from his position guarding Ms. Ortega.
“We need an ambulance. She’s alive, but she’s unconscious,” I shout, just as the sound of tires screeching heralds the arrival of a black SUV. Grabbing my gun again, I swing it around and find myself face-to-face with a frantic-looking Sebastian Lockwood, his feral gaze fixed on the lifeless body of his wife.
TWENTY
SEBASTIAN
Even knowingthat she’s fine. Even knowing that she’s safe. Even knowing that this is all a ruse orchestrated by her, my heart is still beating wildly in my chest when Hunter screeches to a stop and I see Chief Turner standing beside the open trunk of Courtney’s car with Starling crumpled like a broken doll inside.
“Starling,” I yell, jumping out and sprinting to her. “Fuck, Little Bird, fuck,” I whisper, my hands shaking as I reach in and cup her cheek, feeling the warmth of her breath on my thumb when I place it on her lips.
“Hank,” Chief Turner calls as the outside noise filters in and Courtney’s shrill cries, protests, and threats echo off the derelict buildings around us.
“An ambulance is on its way. Her pulse is steady, but we found a syringe inside the car, so we believe that she is under the influence of some kind of intravenous drug, although we don’t know what she’s been injected with,” Chief Turner says, his voice trailing off as he leaves to help the uniformed officer get a kicking and screaming Courtney into the police cruiser.
“Get off me,” she yells over and over, but I ignore her, slipping my arms under Starling’s back and carefully lifting herfrom the trunk and into my arms. The skin I can see on her arms and legs is cool to the touch, and she’s still, so fucking still, that even though I know she’s alive, I still fear that she’ll never wake up, that this will be the last time I ever see her.
In my periphery, I hear the sound of a door shutting, followed by metallic thuds, and when I glance to my right, Courtney is losing her shit in the back of the cruiser, her eyes wild, her hair messy as she kicks at the barrier between the front and rear seats, like the mentally unstable criminal we’ve painted her to be.
I don’t hear them approach, but when I look up, my family is surrounding us, all of their expressions as worried as I feel. “Is she okay?” Evan asks, his mouth downturned, his grip on Sammy so tight the skin on both of their hands has turned white.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
All of us fall silent as Chief Turner arrives at our side, his eyes full of concern. “The ambulance is about ten minutes out.”
I nod, holding her close to me, willing her to stir, to wake up and move or speak or something, but as minutes pass, she just stays a lifeless doll in my arms.
“It’s been too long, she should be awake,” Evan mutters beneath his breath, pacing back and forth the few inches he can go without letting go of Sammy.
The sound of sirens fills the air, and we all turn toward the street when two cruisers and a black van with the Green Acres Police Department logo on the side arrive, their lights flashing wildly.
“What’s going on?” Clay asks, Chief Turner.
“We may have discovered some evidence of what exactly Ms. Ortega planned to do with Mrs. Lockwood after she brought her here,” Chief Turner says, looking uncomfortable.
“I don’t understand,” I say as Starling finally starts to move, her fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt.
More sirens flood the chaotic air as an ambulance careens off the street and toward the small lot that’s now packed with police cruisers, uniformed officers, and people in overalls carrying cases full of equipment.
