Silenced (22 page)

Ivy ran faster.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lucy ran across the street to Genie’s car. “Genie! I think I saw Ivy!”

Genie ran down the sidewalk and jumped into the driver’s seat while Lucy ran around to the passenger side. Genie called in the pursuit of a subject on foot, and Lucy directed her around the corner.

“She jumped over the back fence.”

Genie squealed around the corner and turned down the alley. It was much harder to pursue a suspect on foot while driving.

“Do you see her?” Genie asked. Lucy was scouring the area, looking around the Dumpsters and garbage cans and through cracks in the fence.

“Dammit!”

“I’ll go down the next alley, then go around wide, backup is on its way.”

Genie crossed a two-lane street and drove into the adjoining alley. She slammed on her brakes when a woman darted out in front of her car.

It was definitely Ivy. She looked over her shoulder, terror etched in her face, then back at Lucy.

Lucy shouted, “Get in!” and manually unlocked the back door.

Ivy was obviously torn, but another glance behind her had her running around the car. She grabbed the door handle, pulled it open, and jumped into the backseat, keeping her head low. Before she’d even closed the door, she shouted, “Go, go, go!”

Genie sped down the narrow space, looking in her rearview mirror.

“Is someone chasing you?”

“Yes.”

“Who? I don’t see anyone.”

“I don’t know!”

The bumper clipped a garbage can and the crash of metal made Lucy jump.

“Don’t slow down!” Ivy cried.

Lucy turned in her seat and looked through the back window of Genie’s sedan.

“I don’t see anyone,” she said. “Genie, slow down.”

“I got it under control.” She glanced at Lucy and grinned. “You look green.”

“I don’t like car chases.”

“Let’s just get to the station.”

“No!” Ivy screamed. “Please, no!”

Lucy looked back again and saw a van turn down the alley from a side street.

“Genie! Van, dark blue, behind you.”

“Can you see the driver?”

“White male. Baseball cap.”

“Tags?”

“There’s no front plate. He’s gaining.”

Genie turned out of the alley, but the street was also narrow, parallel to but higher than the main road. A low guard railing separated them from a steep drop. She called in the pursuit.

Lucy said to Ivy, “I’m sorry we have to meet like this. I’m Lucy Kincaid—I’m an analyst for the FBI, and I can help.”

“You did—you got me away from that guy. Now let me out.”

“You’re in danger. This is Detective Genie Reid with DC police; she’ll put you in protective custody. She’s investigating the murder of your friends.”

“You don’t understand. Just let me out!” Ivy hit the seat.

“Who else is in danger? We can protect them as well.”

The unmarked car wasn’t designed for carrying prisoners, had no shield separating the back from the front. Lucy watched Ivy’s hands, realizing she had been impulsive, that Ivy could have a gun, she could be dangerous.

“Ivy, please trust me.”

Ivy snorted. “I can’t trust anybody.”

“Do you know who killed Nicole and Maddie?”

“How—” She stopped talking.

“I know about your sister.”

Silence.

“Mina, right? Where is she?”

A screech behind them caught Lucy’s attention. The van had gained on them.

“Shit!” Genie exclaimed.

The van was on their bumper. The driver hit them hard. Genie barely kept the car on the road.

“That’s him!” Ivy said. “Can’t you drive any faster?”

“Officer in trouble!” Genie said into her mic. “Cleveland near Thirty-first. Dark blue van—shit!”

The van hit them again. A red light was ahead, cross traffic in front of them. Genie had her grille lights flashing. She flipped a switch on the dashboard and a siren whirled then died, whirled then died.

The cars ahead of them slowed, blocking the intersection.

The van rear-ended them and Lucy let out a startled yelp. Ivy had a grip on the door, as if debating whether to jump out.

Genie veered to the wrong side of the street and turned the wrong way down a one-way street. It bought them only a few seconds. The van squealed, sideswiped a parked car, and followed.

He stuck his hand out the window. Metal flashed in the sunlight.

“Gun!” Lucy cried out.

The gunman fired at the tires and missed. He fired his gun again and her back window cracked.

“Stay down!” Genie ordered.

A crossing guard guiding small children was right in front of their car. Genie turned the wheel sharply right, down an embankment, losing control of the vehicle. It was going too fast, and then it hit the bottom and almost went end over end. The airbags exploded, sounding too much like a gunshot. Lucy’s head banged hard against the airbag. Her body was jerked sharply back and suddenly the car fell on all four tires.

Lucy coughed from the powder released with the airbags. “Genie?”

The steering column was wedged tight against the detective and blood was dripping down her face. She was unconscious, but breathing.

“Ivy, are you okay?”

Ivy had a cut on her head and was coughing as well. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She tried her door but it wouldn’t open.

Lucy’s vision was blurred, but she located her handbag on the floor by her feet and retrieved her gun.

“Don’t,” Lucy told Ivy. She spit blood out of her mouth. Her head was spinning. She tried to unbuckle the seat belt, but it was jammed.

Their attacker had started down the embankment. He had a gun. There were onlookers at the railing looking down. Any of them could be a hostage or get caught in the line of fire. Lucy didn’t trust her aim because of double vision; she would have to wait until he got closer to fire.

She heard sirens at the same time as the gunman. He hesitated. She fired her gun at his feet—both pairs of them—then ducked. Screams from the road above cut through the ringing in her ears. He fired once into the side of her car, then a much closer siren and bullhorn sounded from the road below the embankment.

The attacker ran back up and jumped in his van.

Lucy leaned back.

“He’s gone,” she told Ivy. “You’re safe.” She had to convince Ivy to trust her, but how? All she had was a theory. “I know about Wendy,” she said. It sounded like she was talking in a tunnel.

Ivy stared at her. “What?”

“The room. The recordings. Let me help you.” Lucy reached up and touched her head, came away with blood.

“I have to go!” The door was still stuck. Ivy climbed out the shattered window in the back.

“Ivy. Stay—”

She stumbled through the thick shrubs along the embankment and disappeared.

Lucy tried to unbuckle her belt, not knowing if it was really stuck or she was more seriously injured than she thought.

Genie moaned, but didn’t open her eyes. The radio played static, but Lucy fumbled with the channels. “Officer down,” she said. “Need ambulance.”

Two uniformed officers approached from the road below. Lucy closed her eyes. She needed a minute to catch her breath. Just. One. Minute.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sean bypassed the nurse’s station and went straight to Lucy’s room. No one tried to stop him. As long as he looked like he knew where he was going, and didn’t make eye contact, he’d bet his Mustang no one would intervene.

And if anyone tried, they would fail.

Lucy was in the emergency room, a nurse changing her bandages. He stood outside the door, the privacy curtain partly obscuring her view so she couldn’t see him at first.

Sean pushed down on the fear, burying it under layers of false confidence and bravado. He’d seen Lucy in far worse shape than a few scrapes and bruises. She’d seen him worse as well. In fact, looking at her, other than her unusually pale complexion and the fact that she was wearing a hospital gown, she looked just fine.

She’s fine. Lucy’s just fine.

He had to repeat the mantra before the pendulum in his stomach stopped swinging. When he knew he could speak without his voice cracking, he shook off the remaining anxiety like a dog shakes off water. Took a deep breath. Only then did Sean push the curtain aside and step into the cubicle.

“You picked a lovely day to relax in the hospital.” He smiled broadly to mask his lingering fear. He walked to the opposite side of the bed from the nurse and took Lucy’s hand. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “If you needed a vacation, you should have called me. I’d fly you up to Maine. Beautiful in July.”

“Isn’t your plane still being repaired?”

“I’ll borrow one.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” The nurse glanced at him over the tops of her thick glasses. She was younger than Lucy, but the glasses made her look twenty years older.

He winked at the trim, efficient RN. “I won’t stay long. Cross my heart.” He made the gesture.

“She should rest. She’ll be going for X-rays in a minute.”

“Nothing is broken,” Lucy said. “I told the doctor that.”

“You’re probably right, but we’ll X-ray just the same.” The nurse walked to the foot of the bed and picked up the medical chart.

“And you say
I’m
a bad patient,” he whispered, his voice cracking once as he fought to control the building rage.

“You’re worse than me,” Lucy grumbled. “I am
fine.
”

Sean touched Lucy’s bruised face. When he found the bastard who had shot at her, he’d kill him. There was no doubt in Sean’s mind that if he could get away with it, he’d do it.

But was it the
shooter
he was truly angry at? Lucy was training to be a cop. She would be facing an untold number of bad guys, and Sean wasn’t planning on turning vigilante and whacking every criminal she faced.

It was partly the shooter, and partly the woman who had run from the scene—a prostitute, according to Noah—who left Lucy and a detective unconscious in the car.

But mostly, Noah was the focus of Sean’s still bubbling anger.

When Noah had called him thirty minutes ago and told him Lucy had been in an accident, Sean had wanted to throttle the agent. Sean always had something to say, but this time when Noah called, Sean listened, then hung up.

What he
wanted
to say would have caused Lucy untold future problems with the agent. And while Sean didn’t care if they remained friends—and would prefer if they didn’t—he wasn’t going to incite the battle.

As long as Noah stayed away from him for the next hour. Or year.

Lucy frowned, her dark, soulful eyes seeking something in his. “Sean?”

He smiled, trying to mask his simmering anger. He’d worried her, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Were you wearing your seat belt?”

“Of course.”

“Bet your chest hurts.”

“Yes, but—”

He slipped the gown off her right shoulder, since she hadn’t been driving. A nasty bruise was already forming where the seat belt restrained her. “I’ll have a lot of fun playing nurse tonight,” he said with a grin. His vision blurred, but he averted his eyes. The nurse looked at him a moment too long. He faked a smile. It didn’t work.

“This really sucks,” Lucy said. She squeezed his hand.

Sean forced himself to relax. Lucy was alive. Nothing broken. Just bruises. “I’ve never heard you say that word before.”

She rolled her eyes. “Genie’s foul mouth is rubbing off on me.” She said to the nurse, “Monica, right?”

“Yes.” The young nurse seemed pleased Lucy had remembered her first name.

“Would you mind checking on Detective Genie Reid for me? She didn’t regain consciousness in the car, and I’d feel a lot better if I knew she was okay.”

“I’ll see what I can find out. Stay put, the orderly should be here in about ten minutes to take you to X-ray.”

“And then I can go.”

“And then the doctor will look at the film and let you know.”

The nurse left and Lucy said to Sean, “I’m not staying tonight. I didn’t even want to come, but Noah made me.”

“Where is he now?”

“He met me at the scene, I briefed him, he said he’d stop by later. They’re looking for Ivy. It’s all jumbled in my head, but I told him they’re all connected.”

Ivy … the name was familiar to Sean, but he didn’t know why. When Noah called him earlier, he’d been worried about Lucy, but now he wanted to remember why
Ivy
was important. “What’s connected?”

Lucy whispered, “Wendy James and the two prostitutes. Their murders are connected. I think Jocelyn Taylor was trying to help them all.”

“I’m three steps behind you. Noah didn’t tell me anything.” Lucy’s brow dipped in concentration, and Sean tried to stop her from thinking too hard. “You can catch me up later. You need to rest. You could have a concussion.”

“If you make me tell you that I’m fine one more time, I’ll call Dillon for a ride home. I just need to get my thoughts together. Everything was falling into place right before the crash.”

Sean sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her, trying to ignore the cuts and scrapes on her arms and face. He kissed her again because it felt good. To remind him that she was here, whole, healthy.

“You keep scaring me like this, I’ll have to hire myself to be your bodyguard—and I don’t do personal security. For you, Princess, I’ll make an exception.”

“
Me?
You’re the one who fell two stories down a mine shaft not two months ago.”

“You crashed my plane.”

“Did not. It was shot down.”

Sean raised his eyebrow.

“You,” she added, “were kidnapped by a lunatic.”

“So were you.”

“I’d say we’re even then.”

“Maybe we should move to an uninhabited island where neither of us can get in trouble.”

“We’d probably run into a poisonous snake.” Lucy brought Sean’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “Now, where was I?”

“You weren’t going to tell me you were fine.”

“Right.”

Sean breathed much easier. In their banter, Lucy’s tension eased, making him calmer as well. Unlike him, she wasn’t a good actress. If she was stressed or worried, she wouldn’t tease him.