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Misty pushed her butt out to make the zipping harder as Jen tugged with one arm, keeping the gun pointed with the other.
“This isn’t going to work,” she said. “I don’t know what you were talking about before, but Rachel and Mason are on their way here.”
Jen dropped the pull string in frustration. “I know. I counted on it. But they won’t make it here.” She smiled and made kaboom fingers on either side of her head.
Misty frowned, and then remembered. Detective Jen Scott, former Army explosives ordinance specialist… The words of her own script came to her.
Jen Scott bent low to resume tugging on the zipper.
“Detective, wait,” Misty said. “There’s one more thing.”
Jen Scott sent her a scorching look. “What?”
“Mermaid Pose!” Misty straightened her arms, arched her back, and smashed her head into Jen’s face. Then she rolled onto her back, yanked her legs out of the tail, and dashed for the back door.
“I’ll shoot your sister!” Jen screamed as she lurched to her feet.
“No, she fucking won’t!” Christy yelled, and then there was a splash. She’d gone into the water.
Misty lurched through the door, slammed it behind her, grabbed her phone and tapped the mic, screaming “Text Rachel. Bomb in car!”
The door slammed into her from behind, and she flew forward, shouting “Send! Send!” Her phone sailed into the air as she fell. But what she heard was even worse; the screechy grinding sound of the motor closing the pool cover. Jen had thrown the lever before coming after her!
Then came the first impact of her body against the staircase, followed by many others as the world spun around her, pounding her the whole time.
* * *
RACHEL
As soon as Christy had shared her location, Mason and I had jumped into action. We took Myrtle with us, in the back seat of the car. She’d be more comfortable than in a strange house all alone. The car was her favorite place, familiar and safe.
Mason drove, I navigated, but after the first two turns, I said, “It’s gotta be the club. She’s at The Sapphire Club.” And in my mind’s eye, I saw Eva Quaid, as mermaid Esmeralda, pounding the glass of the aquarium, her eyes round and brown and pleading.
“Faster, Mason.”
He pressed the accelerator. We were nearly there when my phone lit up again.
Christy: Bomb in car.
“Stop the car!” I shrieked. Then, “No, drive out into that field first. Hurry! But gently. But hurry.” I climbed over into the back seat and scooped up my dog.
Mason looked at me like I’d lost my mind, but he found a tractor path into the field I’d indicated and drove over it, leaving the pavement behind.
The car bounded and I said, “Easy. A little farther. Hurry! But easy. There’s a bomb in the car, I think.”
The car bounced to a stop. “Far enough,” he said. “I’ve got your phone. Head for the road. Ready?”
I grabbed my backpack, gave a nod. We got out in unison, then ran back toward the road. Mason came to take Myrtle from my arms. I could move way faster without her. We jumped the ditch, crossed the road, went down the little slope on the other side and then crouched arm-in-arm with Myrt between us, peering back.
Nothing happened.
“Huh,” I said. “Maybe I was wro?—”
The blast shattered my ears and the yellow-white flash blinded me. Then the percussion hit me in the face, and I went over backwards and down the little slope. I tried to say “Holy fuck” but I didn’t have any breath in my lungs.
Then Mason was pulling me up into his arms as a car went speeding by.
“Oh, don’t even stop, you mother fucker!” I shouted with both birds aloft. But then I put my arms back around Mason and held on tight. Myrtle was sitting right where we’d left her. Poor dog.
