Mackenzie thought it over. She had to keep going, and Gideon would only get hurt trying to dissuade her. While his attention was elsewhere, she would stay busy moving toward her goal. If she waited like he’d demanded, she would wind up back in custody somewhere and her chance would pass her by. She no longer had access to Lorraine, but Lorraine’s boyfriend, Cal, worked at the airstrip, and there was a chance he hadn’t yet evacuated. Maybe he could tell her what she needed to know.
It was her last fragile opportunity, and she had to risk it.
But not Gideon. He was right about waiting for help. It was definitely the best choice for him. He’d get warmed up, back to his vehicle, and escape without suffering any more consequences. She didn’t like Gideon—still felt the hurt of his refusal to help with the case against Bullseye—but she didn’t want him to die for her. Best to protect him from it all.
She peered into the swirling water, body quaking to remind her she had very little strength left. But all she had to do was make it to the snag and haul herself out. She’d find some dry clothes somewhere, warm up, regroup. Finish what she’d started.
It was an absolutely reckless choice. But it was hers to make.
Gideon was still turned away from her. “Cops are pursuing the white truck. Boat’s making a circle. They’ll come around to—”
Before he finished, Mackenzie made her move.
Four
Gideon lunged for Mackenzie.She had to have fallen, slipped. But his brain observed that her arms were neatly folded to her chest, her toes pointed as she entered the water.
Not slipped. Jumped.
Why? His brain reeled. It was absolutely nonsensical that she’d dive right back in when they just escaped drowning by inches.
Fury choked him. He should’ve let her carry on with whatever harebrained scheme she’d cooked up.
The moment she pretended to steal his wallet should have been the official end of his involvement.
The squad car on the bank had taken off in pursuit of the shooters, who were no longer in sight. That was something, anyway. He sucked in an enormous breath and yelled at the rescue boat as it tossed side to side like an old porch rocker. He finally got the cop’s attention.
Rodriquez pointed to his ear in a “can’t hear you” signal.
No kidding.Gideon used his entire body to try to conveywhere Mackenzie had gone in. Rodriquez grabbed a pair of binoculars and began to scan the fray. The rescue boat moved slowly, working against the rush of water. Mackenzie, on the other hand, had already traveled ten yards from the pier where Gideon stood, and she was gaining speed.
Timing wasn’t in their favor.
The boat would arrive to rescue him, but she’d be long gone, drowned and swept away to be recovered after the waters receded. There was no other likely outcome. How hadn’t she seen that? The woman was obsessed but not suicidal. She was her own worst enemy, and whatever she thought she was doing wasn’t going to bring Aaron back.
The cop was still scanning, the boat still churning, the current still yanking Mackenzie toward a watery death. For an endless moment he breathed deep, prayed, and let his decision settle, his mind accept what the next action of his body would be. He tightened the straps on his pack and locked his knees to stop them from shaking.
This is turning into an unbelievably bad day.
He dove into the water for the third time since breakfast.
Like the past two occasions, the temperature hit him like a physical blow. Only now he was weakened from exhaustion and racing toward hypothermia. It took him longer to break the surface after the shock of the plunge. The air he sucked in felt almost as cold as the water.
Mackenzie’s orange jumpsuit enabled him to spot her, swimming madly for the column of debris snagged in the roots of an oak tree on the bank. The collection of branches and other flotsam and jetsam was her target, he imagined. A rickety escape ladder.
It was his too. If they didn’t make it there, they’d die. If they did make it and the debris wouldn’t hold them or they were too tired to climb out, they’d die. If the black truck was stationed somewhere nearby and the driver had seen her stunt and was setting up a neat rifle shot, they’d die.
So where was the upside of this clever plan?
He swam his hardest, kicking with all his might to close the gap between them. He didn’t catch up until she’d reached the snag and heaved herself onto a broken two-by-four stuck amid the pile.
He helped himself to the other end, panting and shivering.
Her eyes went wide as she glanced at him. “Why did you follow me?”
“I can only chalk it up to temporary insanity,” he growled.
“You shouldn’t have.”
