Reclaim My Life (38 page)

Wil paused at his office door. “How’s that?”

“Ralph identified his assailant as ‘the bicycle lady.’ Libby’s description of the woman matches Sunny Davis.”

Wil swore. “Come with me. Let’s nab this bicycle lady and rescue Elizabeth.”

“I screwed up, Wil. I was on my way to pick up Sunny Davis when I got the urgent call from Libby Sapp—”

“Let’s go.” Later he’d worry about who screwed up. Now he had to focus on finding Elizabeth.

He and Fred ran for Wil’s Jeep and then hopped inside. Wil peeled out of the parking lot onto Main. He had faith that she’d crashed her truck deliberately to activate the
OnStar
system. Or, worst-case scenario— No, Wil refused to consider a worst-case scenario. Elizabeth was smart and gutsy, stronger than most people. Now he just had to reach her in time.

Squeezing the butt of the gun with her right hand, Elizabeth used her left hand to try the door. It was jammed, but she couldn’t stay in the cab with a psychopath. She turned the key for accessories in order to lower her window. Sunny’s moan spurred her into action, and she shimmied her body through the window, dropping to the ground amidst a tangle of pine branches, the pistol falling into the debris. Ignoring the abrasions to her skin, she yanked the weapon from the branches and gripped it with both hands. She stood, bracing her quivering body, and faced the truck.

“Wha—what happened?” Sunny ran one hand over her face, stared at the blood, then looked out at Elizabeth with a confused expression. Her gaze dropped to the gun in Elizabeth’s hands. Her confusion morphed to awareness, then anger. “You bitch!”

Sunny tried to open the door on her side of the truck, to no avail. With a roar of anger, she lunged herself at Elizabeth through the driver’s door window. But a concussion hampered the movements of anyone, even a soulless killer. She staggered, grabbed her head, then collapsed against the truck.

“Hold still. The authorities are on their way.”

“Like hell.” She reached for the gun and swayed. “They don’t know where we are—” The
OnStar
operator spoke again, this time reassuring them that help had been dispatched. Sunny glared back at the offending device. “Shit.”

“Don’t move, Sunny.”

Sunny’s smile was more of a grimace. “You aren’t going to shoot me. You’re too big of a wimp.”

She’d always been a wimp where guns were concerned. But Sunny had cold-bloodedly taken the lives of two good women, two unsuspecting ladies who’d offered her friendship and been brutally shot because they’d trusted her. Their only crime had been having a close resemblance to Sofia Desalvo. Rage filled her, followed by a strong dose of sorrow. She waited for the guilt to kick in, but Wilson had been right. Elizabeth hadn’t brought death to anyone. Sullivan had. If Sunny didn’t succeed, he’d just send someone else.

Sunny had failed this time, and she wasn’t getting away. Elizabeth steadied the gun in both hands, aimed wide, and squeezed off a shot. Her ears rang. The hot odor from the discharge polluted the air. Her hands cramped from tension and recoil. But the shock in Sunny’s eyes made it worthwhile. “Now stay put until the cops arrive.”

Main Street narrowed to two lanes at the Hurricane Lantern and became County Road 471. Ahead, Wil stared at a long stretch of deserted road littered with storm debris. He ran with his flashing lights and siren, speeding toward Osceola National Forest. He concentrated on finding Elizabeth, pushing aside the numbing fear that he’d be too late. Straining to catch sight of a wrecked pickup, he nearly ran into a downed tree limb.

Veering back onto the blacktop, he broke the uneasy silence. “Stop beating yourself up, Fred. If you’d driven to the Nite Owl to pick up Sunny, she wouldn’t have gone with you. It was Elizabeth she wanted.”

“But why?”

“She’s a psycho.” It pained him to keep the truth from Fred, but he wouldn’t break his promise to Elizabeth or his commitment to Cory. “See anything yet?”

Fred pointed. “Up there. See?”

Wil squinted. In the horizon, a pickup blocked half the road, its right side smashed into a large live oak. The truck straddled a downed pine. Wil nearly veered off the road when he heard the report of a pistol. Perspiration soaked him. Terror claimed his breath. Good God, was he too late?

“Shots fired.” Fred had drawn his sidearm and unlatched his seatbelt by the time Wil skidded to a stop behind the wrecked pickup.

Drawing his own weapon, Wil crouched behind the Jeep’s door and called out, “Step away from the vehicle with your hands up.”

Two figures emerged from the screen of tree limbs. He nearly melted with relief when Elizabeth stepped forward, both hands clutching a pistol trained on Sunny Davis. “She’s all yours, Sheriff Drake.”

Wil didn’t know how Elizabeth had turned the tables on her abductor. He’d ask later. Her body shook with an adrenaline rush he recognized all too well. It would fade, leaving her weak and exhausted.

He nodded toward Sunny. “Chief Deputy Fischer, arrest this woman and see that she gets medical attention.”

Fred grabbed the injured woman’s hands, yanking them around to her back with a bit more force than necessary, not that Wil blamed him. Ralph Sapp had identified her as the driver who’d hit him and his bicycle. When they located her black Lexus, they’d test the body damage for forensics, but Wil figured the paint would match that found on Ralph’s beach cruiser. Handcuffed, she stumbled to the Jeep, where Fred recited her rights and locked her inside.

Wil holstered his weapon and moved toward Elizabeth. With her hands still gripping the pistol, she dropped her arms and slumped forward. He rushed to catch her before she collapsed. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

He covered her trembling hands, which still gripped the twenty-two. “You can let go of the gun now, darlin’.”

She dropped the weapon into his hand. “I didn’t see it coming.”

He wrapped one arm across her shoulders and tugged her close. “I know, darlin’—”

“I
never
see it coming.” Her eyes glazed over. Anguish filled her voice. “I’ll never learn.”

The ambulance pulled alongside Wil’s Jeep and cut its siren. “You’ve had a shock. Let the paramedics look you over—”

Her eyes widened, but she still seemed unable to focus. “No!”

Fred escorted Sunny from the Jeep to the rear of the EMS vehicle to get treatment for her head wound.

“I’m not hurt.” Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed a ragged breath. “I just want to go home.”

What did she mean? She’d handed over her house keys to Ben Sawyer and his family. She couldn’t mean Kentucky, not when Frank Sullivan still had a price on her head. As much as he’d like to fantasize the cabin as their home, he doubted that’s what she had in mind.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut and collapsed against him. “She would’ve killed me.”

“You outsmarted her.” He hugged her, unable to tell whose body trembled more. His heart had stopped beating when he’d heard the gunshot. “Darlin’, did you shoot at Sunny?”

“She called me a wimp. I didn’t aim for her, just fired to let her know I meant business.”

Thank God she’d overcome her phobia of guns, at least temporarily. “I thought you wouldn’t touch a firearm.”

She looked up at him then, and her eyes seemed to clear. “I thought I wouldn’t, either. I did all right, huh?”

“You did great.” With her shoulders tucked under his arm, he walked her to the Jeep. Fred climbed into the ambulance to guard their suspect. The closest hospital was in Columbia County, which meant Fred would be tied up for awhile. “We need to go back by the sheriff’s office. Will you be okay?”

“Probably.” She crawled into the Jeep. “Is now a good time to apologize for breaking my promise about not leaving?”

He leaned inside and buckled her safety harness. “Just don’t let it happen again.” He softened the warning with a smile.

Elizabeth didn’t return the smile. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the headrest. Color drained from her skin. Wil grabbed her wrist to check her pulse and found it alarmingly slow. Lifting her arms above her head to increase her heart rate, he gave her a gentle shake.

“Stay with me, darlin’. Don’t pass out.”

Moaning, she dropped her chin. “I’m nauseated.”

“I know, but that’s shock.” He released her safety harness. “Come on. Let’s walk around a bit.”

“No, just give me a sec.” She dropped her head between her legs and took deep breaths.

“It’s normal to feel this way. Just take your time. We’ll leave when you’re better.”

Unfortunately, Wil’s own traumatic experience had taken its toll. He had to hold himself together for Elizabeth’s sake, though. He ignored his own clamminess and nausea. Forcing back memories of the awful fear that had driven him to rescue her, he focused on
her
needs when what he ached to do was hold her tightly in his arms, reassuring himself that she was safe. Propriety aside, he feared if he hugged her now, he’d never be able to let her go.

Her safety, unfortunately, was temporary. Sullivan had money and connections. He’d find another contract killer just as soon as he realized this one had failed. Special Agent Cory would arrive to collect his witness and hide her somewhere else. But at least she’d be alive. Wil clung to that small comfort.

She hadn’t even had the chance to tell Wilson goodbye.

Riding west on I-10 with Cory, she stared at the Florida landscape. Billboards indicated they were close to a large truck stop. Cory wouldn’t tell her their destination yet, but she suspected Mississippi or Alabama. Any farther and they would’ve flown. Or would they? She’d been in the program only long enough to know that nothing was a given. Still numb from yesterday’s harrowing experience, she hardly remembered the rest of the evening. She’d showered and changed clothes at the police station, dozing on a bench in the locker room. Wilson never let her out of his sight, although he’d been too busy to spend much time with her. Propriety had demanded he keep his hands to himself when all she’d wanted was to curl up in his lap. Well, that wasn’t
all
she wanted, but it would’ve been a start.

It saddened her to know that she couldn’t trust her instincts, even about Wilson. She’d been so sure he was her soul mate, the love of her life. For him, she’d spend her life in the tiny town and live in a two-bedroom cabin. Man, that sounded heavenly! But she’d been sure that Sunny was her friend, too. And what about Brendan? She couldn’t have been more wrong in her assessment of her ex-fiancé. She dare not risk her life over a gut feeling. Her gut feelings sucked.

Her life sucked. But at least she was alive. So why did she feel empty and lost when she should feel grateful for escaping the hired assassin? “What’s going to happen to Sunny? Or whoever she is.”

Special Agent Cory, who appeared to be no older than she, glanced at her. He hid behind ultra-tinted sunshades, which made his expression unreadable. “Not nearly enough, I’m afraid. FDLE is short on evidence to link her to their two homicides, and she’s not talking.”

I don’t do confessions
.

“Look, I don’t want to cause trouble, but what would it take for me to come out of the program?”

“You could leave now, but you’d spend your life looking over your shoulder. You’d wonder every time you turn the key on your ignition or every time an anonymous caller hangs up on you. It’s your choice. At the very least, we need to keep you under wraps until Sullivan is convicted.”

“I’ll cooperate. But I’m not good with clandestine work.”

Cory snorted. “Sofia, you are the best witness I’ve ever handled. You did nothing to bring this on yourself—”

“I looked up my sister-in-law’s Web site and my hometown newspaper. More than once. Sunny had some kind of spyware on my computer—”

“When?”

“When did I go to the site? A few days ago.” It seemed weeks had passed rather than days.

“Your location was leaked last year.” At her gasp, he shook his head. “I swear I didn’t know. None of us did until this week. Turns out Sullivan got to one of ours, but that leak’s been plugged.”