“Right now, if you want to save your girl, we have to get you out of here.” Urgency deepened the cop’s already deep voice. “I don’t know why the hell I’m helping you. I don’t owe Shane that much, damn it.” Muttering to himself, Malloy propelled Heath down a fairly empty hallway to a stairwell. “If we get caught, I’m claiming you got my gun.”
Heath had to concentrate to put one foot in front of the other and not fall on his face. “I need clothes.”
“No shit.” The cop led him into an underground parking area, grunting from the weight. “Brown car.”
Heath tried to help. They reached a nondescript brown car with a few dents in the side, and Malloy shoved him inside. Within seconds, the cop was in the car and roaring out of the parking area.
“Wait,” Heath said. “Your phone?”
The cop handed over his phone. Heath dialed Denver, holding his breath.
“Yeah?” Denver asked, his voice gravelly.
“You clear?”
“Affirmative. FBI just left to take a phone call. Where are you?” Denver asked, sounding like he was moving fast.
Heath set his head back on the seat. “We’re outside to the west. Where’s Ryker?”
“He and Zara just created another safe house in town. It was a rental, former drug house, and they paid cash. No trace to us. I told them I could get you there.”
Heath nodded. “Good. They need a safe place until we can get them out of town.”
“Agreed.” Denver swore. The sound of a window being wrenched open came over the line. “I’ll be right there.” He clicked off.
“We can’t wait,” Malloy said urgently.
Heath opened his eyes and viewed the cop. “We’re waiting.”
There wasn’t a need to argue further because the back door of the car opened and Denver jumped inside, still wearing a hospital gown. “Fuck, it’s cold. I need socks.”
Heath swallowed down bile. “Go.”
Malloy was already pressing the gas, and soon they were speeding away from the hospital. “I hope my guy cut the camera feeds like he promised,” he muttered.
Heath shook his head. “What is going on?” His chest started to hurt worse. Maybe the morphine had been helping.
Malloy twisted on the windshield wipers as the snow bombarded them. “Jolene Landers was found dead an hour ago near the river. Raped and strangled.”
Heath made a low sound and fought nausea. “She was just a decoy.”
“Yeah,” Malloy agreed. “The kicker is that we also found a bag loaded with rocks in the river . . . hidden not too well.”
Heath shook his head. “Don’t tell me.”
“Yep. Carl Spark’s phone, another phone, and a wallet with a Wyoming driver’s license for Kip Levy.”
Heath settled back and shut his eyes again to keep from passing out. “Great.”
Malloy turned the heat on full blast. “Yeah. Your face is on the license. I guess Kip is an alias?”
“Yeah.” Heath slowly opened his eyes, and gray light pierced into his brain. Concussions sucked. “Was there a gun with it?”
“Nope.”
The gun no doubt would show up since it probably had been used to kill Carl. Heath pushed that thought aside for now. “Does the FBI have the info?”
“They should by now,” Malloy said. “My guys found the body and the sunken bag, and I had a friend hold off on contacting Special Agent Reese until I could get to you. But he couldn’t have waited long.”
