“Fun little trick, that. It was a recording, played with a directional amplifier. Loud as hell to you, but not to anybody outside the range.”
A recording. No wonder there’d been no evidence. “It almost worked. Would have worked if my uncle hadn’t heard.”
“I didn’t realize until after that anybody else was home. Pity. Would’ve saved us both a lot of trouble.”
Straining her neck, she looked up at him. His gaze kept bouncing between the road and her. Past his head, she could see a smattering of naked branches mixed in with towering pine trees. “Where are you taking me?”
“There are thousands of acres of wilderness in this county. Plenty of places to hide your body where it won’t be discovered until long after the trace evidence is gone. But don’t worry. I’m not interested in making you suffer. I’ve got enough respect for you as a fellow cop to make it quick.”
Rowan launched herself, slamming into Voss. The gun went off and the truck lurched wildly. He fought her, fought for control, but her body was wedged between him and the wheel. She felt rather than saw the truck leave the road and tried to throw herself back toward the other side of the seat. Then the truck crashed into a tree and everything went a blinding white before fading to blackness.
Nash drove like a bat out of hell, determined to make up the distance. He didn’t let himself think of what could be happening to Rowan. Didn’t let himself think of what Voss—or whoever had her—might already have done. He just focused on closing that distance and getting to her.
In the passenger seat, Robert continued to coordinate with other officers on the radio.
Did Voss have a radio himself tuned to the police band? Did he know they were coming?
The caller had reported him driving fast. So he was in escape mode. He couldn’t have had time to kill her and dump the body yet. Logic dictated Rowan was still alive. She had to be. He just had to catch up.
Careening around a curve in the county road, he caught a flash of black and hit the brakes. A truck with a camper top had plowed straight into a tree. The front end was smashed, the hood buckled. Windows were shattered. The driver’s side door hung partly open. There was no telling how fast they’d been going when they hit.
Rowan, what did you do?
Robert was already calling it in as Nash pulled up behind it.
“Stay here.” He slipped out, gun drawn, edging closer to the mangled vehicle.
The winter woods were quiet, but for a breeze singing through the trees and the sound of his footsteps crunching on pine needles. Dread weighed on him like lead as he circled around to the open driver’s door. There was no one inside. No broken bodies that hadn’t survived the crash. The windshield was shattered but still mostly intact. No evidence a body had been thrown out the front. The airbag had deployed. It lay wilted over the steering wheel. The white fabric was streaked with blood, as was the bench seat. Was it his blood or hers? Or both?
“Somebody’s bleeding pretty good,” Robert observed.
“I told you to stay in the truck.”
Ignoring him, Robert pointed to the ground. “Blood trail heads off that way.”
“You can’t come with me.”
“I’m not armed. You think I’m gonna head on into the woods in my damned bedroom slippers in my condition? I’m not stupid, Brewer. Backup’s on the way. Be careful. We don’t know whose blood that is.”
With a short nod, Nash moved into the trees. A dozen feet in he found a snapped zip tie. The sight of it spurred him faster. She was alive and she’d broken her bonds.
I’m coming. Just hang on. I’m coming.
He had to force himself to move slowly, searching out the blood spatter on fallen leaves and listening hard for other signs of movement. Had she managed to get far enough ahead to hide? The trees here were certainly thick enough, full of undergrowth that would make the area virtually impenetrable at any other time of year. He carefully picked over thick vines and roots, backtracking when he lost the trail. Thank God it was still daylight.
He was nearly a quarter mile in when he heard the gunshot, close enough it made his ears ring. It echoed through the silence with a finality that lodged Nash’s heart in his throat.
No. No no no no.
He began to run, fighting his way through the brush. He couldn’t be too late. Catching movement ahead, he poured on speed and broke into a small clearing.
“Rowan!”
They were both on their feet, Rowan fighting for control of the gun in her assailant’s hand. Blood stained his shoulder, but the wound didn’t seem to be hampering him. He bent, trying to use his greater size to overpower her.
Nash leveled his gun. “Freeze!” They didn’t, and he couldn’t get a clean shot, not with Rowan right there.
Even as he watched, she dug a finger into the wound. The man howled. Impervious to the blows landing on her head and shoulders, Rowan landed a hard, sharp strike to the other man’s arm. The gun fell from his fingers. With a roar, he dove forward, tackling her around the waist. Rowan landed hard on her back, her breath coming out in a woosh, and Nash could’ve sworn she smiled, even as her attacker drove a fist into her ribs.
Quick as a snake, she grabbed fistfuls of the other man’s shirt, lifted her hips, and rolled. It was the same move she’d used on Nash the day they’d sparred. Suddenly she was on top. He bucked, trying to roll, punching at whatever he could hit, but she kept the upper hand. Her hands wrapped around his throat, and she began to squeeze. And at last, with her arms locked out, Nash had a clean shot.
“Give it up, or I’m gonna put a bullet in your brain.”
“Need him alive to prosecute.” Rowan grunted as she took more blows to the ribs.
“Then you might want to stop squeezing so hard.”
The man’s face was turning an alarming shade of red and the punches he aimed at Rowan’s sides were more like flailing.
“I suggest you cooperate, Voss. Because I promise you my friend here would be a lot happier shooting you for having kidnapped me.”
With a baleful look at Nash, Voss stopped fighting.
“Got cuffs?” she asked.
Nash pulled them off his duty belt. He walked close enough to toss them to her, but not close enough that Voss could reach out and grab at him. “You okay?”
Rowan shifted her grip and reached up with one hand to snatch them. “I’m sure I’ve got an assortment of bruises and scrapes and probably some burns from the airbag, but I’ll be fine.” She snapped the cuffs on one wrist and began reciting his rights as she efficiently rolled him to his belly, twisting his arm behind his back with more force than strictly necessary. “Trent Voss, you’re under arrest.” Voss cried out between gasps. Rowan finished cuffing him, then fell back on her ass, breathing hard. She shifted triumphant blue eyes up to Nash. “What took you so long?”
God, he was crazy about this woman.
“I stopped to pick up Chief Grumpy.”
Her eyes widened. “Robert’s with you?”
“Back at the truck, waiting on backup.” The faint wail of a siren sounded in the distance. “Guess they’re nearly here.” Holstering his weapon, Nash strode over to where she sat and offered his hand.
As soon as she placed hers in his, he tugged her to her feet and straight into his arms. She burrowed in, holding every bit as tight as he did. If his embrace bothered any of her injuries, she didn’t make a sound.