As they clutched each other, the boat approached the pier where the officer and two passengers clung. They’d put a swimmer in the water, maybe deploy their floating stretcher to convey the passengers to safety if the victims were too weak to manage the transfer.
Rodriquez pointed to their location, and a voice came over the PA from the vessel.
“This is Oakleaf Fire and Rescue. We see you and will render aid soon. Stay put.”
As if they had a whole lot of choice in the matter.
He’d opened his mouth to shout a reply when the white truck rolled into view in the marshy grasses along the access road that paralleled the flooding river. His heart thumped and the words died on his lips.
Mackenzie gasped. “They can’t be back.”
The narrow road next to the bridge was closed bya gate—he’d checked when he’d taken up his recon position—off-limits since it was submerged in some places already. The truck had found a way through the barriers.
He couldn’t see the face of the driver, but he knew it was Hairy, the man with the beard who’d forced the van off the bridge.
But there were cops now, and fire response. Surely they weren’t desperate enough to—
He was already turning to draw Mackenzie to the far side of the support when the first rifle shot pinged into the cement pier.
****
Mackenzie forced her sluggish senses to process. They were under attack. Again. The cops in the squad car returned fire as the rescue boat continued to race toward the stranded trio.
She and Gideon were out of view of the shooter at first, but the angle of the shots indicated the truck was moving, likely searching.
For her? And Lorraine? As she surveyed the violent eddies of the water, she worried Bullseye’s orders would be carried out. Their time was ticking down until death came via a bullet or exposure. Somewhere out there, the other vehicle, the black one that had assisted in the initial attack, was closing in as well.
Her thoughts finally tumbled out her mouth, past her chattering teeth. “They were watching from somewhere. They saw us escape the van.”
Gideon didn’t seem to have heard her. He was half crouched, analyzing. The water made his shorn hair standup in prickles. His teeth weren’t chattering, but his body convulsed with shivers.
The way she saw it, there were only two choices, stay or move, and they had to decide now.
The seconds were ebbing away until they died from the cold.
Until they weakened and fell into the water.
Until the second shooter spotted them clinging to the support, or the first corrected their aim.
“We have to swim for it again.” She peered across to the far side of the river. “Current should take us toward that next snag, right? We can crawl our way out.”
He did look at her then, furious. “Get real. We don’t have the strength.”
She tried a smile. “Speak for yourself.”
“I’m speaking for both of us. Our best bet is to stay here, keep out of the line of fire, and wait for reinforcements. That’s the smart way.”
She shook her head.
The muscle in his jaw jumped. “You know how much of my career has been spent learning from stories about people whodidn’tchoose the smart way?”
Another volley of shots indicated the officer on the bank had engaged the white truck. They scooted around the pier in time to see the cop who’d driven the van jump feetfirst into the rescue boat where the two women were already sheltering. The boat began a slow turn.
Relief that the women and cop would not die because of her was heady.
A second police car rode up, sirens screaming, and immediately took up position to support the rescue boat.Their combined fire caused the white truck to back up and execute a wild U-turn.
“Hairy’s retreating,” Gideon crowed. “Give it to ’em, boys.” He leaned away from her another few inches.
