Just as she thought all was lost, ambulance sirens pierced the night air. With the dense humidity, the sound was amplified.
“Help is on the way.”Please, let them get here fast enough…
Trent’s calves and thighs were burning as he ran through the subdivision. The mystery figure had a good start on him and was lithe and lean. Based on the size and how they moved, he’d say it was a woman of average height, somewhere around five-foot-five. Her hair was short, tucked into a skullcap or tied back into a bun. He made out other things too. She was wearing spandex shorts, an oversized T-shirt, and a backpack.
The mystery jogger?
She was smart and mostly stuck to the shadows, but Trent was afforded brief glimpses of the perp where the streetlights had a farther reach.
His heart pounding, he dug in deeper, searching for the resolve to keep going. But as they rounded the street corner, and Trent followed, he lost her path. It was like she just vaporized into thin air.
The backup officer, a man named Kendall, came up next to Trent and worked to catch his breath. Every part of Trent’s body was ready to move. His muscles were pulsing, awaiting directions, but he had none to give them.
“We lost eyes on the suspect. I repeat, we lost eyes on the suspect,” Kendall said into his radio.
A PWCPD cruiser drove by, lights flashing, and slowed next to them. The officer put the window down.
“Call in more units to search the area,” Trent told him.
“Already done.”
As if on cue, more cruisers with their strobing lights appeared along the street.
“All we know is she went that way.” Trent pointed in the direction he’d last seen her go.
“She, sir?” Kendall asked.
“Yes, I’m sure it was a woman.”
The officers spoke to each other, and the cruisers set out. Some parked down the street before getting out on foot to start the search. Trent headed back to Blackburn’s house to check on the situation there.
TWENTY-THREE
Paramedics tended to Joel Blackburn. One handed Amanda a wet wipe to clean her bloody hand. She took it with a “Thanks” and set off into the house in search of Dominique.
“Amanda.” Trent’s voice had her stopping in her steps and turning around. He was walking through the rear sliding doors, making his way past the paramedics, who were now loading Blackburn onto a stretcher.
She bridged the distance to Trent. “Tell me you caught them.”
He shook his head and filled her in. “Her.It was a woman. But, no.”
“You’re sure it was a woman though?”
“Uh-huh, and she was wearing the same apparel from that eyewitness account. The shorts, the shirt, the backpack…”
“And the gun used to fire on us had a silencer on it.”
“Just like the weapon that fired the bullets at Christine,” Trent finished her thought.
A heavy weight sank in Amanda’s gut. “She’s our killer.”
“I’d say that’s a safe assumption.”
“Tell me you got a good look at her.”
“Not really. Just that she’s about five-five and slim. She can also move. She’s fast,” he added, as if his statement required further clarity. “What happened here? Dominique okay?”
“Joel Blackburn was shot in the chest. It’s not looking good. I was just going to check on Dominique. I think she’s upstairs.” Amanda turned and went up to the second story, with Trent following. “Dominique? It’s Detective Steele. You’re safe now. Come out.”
