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“She was a decoy, she tried to kill me,” the driver explained calmly. He sat me down on the sidewalk, facing away from the woman and alleyway. “Miss Holt, are you okay?”
“I don’t know, I don’t—people are dead!”
“Are you hurt?” he clarified, and breathed a relieved sigh when I shook my head vigorously. “I am so sorry I allowed this to happen. I will never forgive myself for—”
“Stop! Please stop,” I pleaded, and focused on breathing for a minute. Fighting to find the calm that Lucas exuded. “It’s not your fault. You and Lucas were right about everything. We should have never left the house.”
Fear flashed through his eyes. “I need to call Mr. Holt,” he said with a determination that didn’t match the resignation on his face. With a sigh, he helped me to my feet when police started pulling up, and led us over to where the first officer was getting out of his car.
A look of recognition passed over the officer’s face, and he walked up to us to shake the driver’s hand, as if there wasn’t a dead woman just a few feet away. As if the driver hadn’t shot her.
I had the urge to look at where the woman lay, to make sure I hadn’t made it up in my mind, but forced myself not to turn.
Because then I remembered what Lucas had said about owning the police, and I wondered how many times this particular officer had come in contact with Lucas and his driver—if that was the reason there wasn’t an ounce of suspicion coming from him.
They spoke quickly to each other, but I wasn’t able to focus on the words or most of what was happening around us. The only word I caught was when the driver said Holt, and the police officer looked down at me with fear and . . . was that awe?
“Please go with him while I handle this,” the driver said, and handed me over to the officer.
“Mrs. Holt, please, come sit in the car so we can keep you concealed from the public.” The officer’s voice wavered with fear, and his movements were jerky as he led me to the back of his car. “Anything you need? Water? It’s warm out, but do you need a blanket? You’re shaking.”
I was so thrown off by the way the officer was reacting and what he’d said, that I wasn’t able to answer right away, and I never corrected him on the Mrs. “Um . . .” I looked over to the driver to see him talking on the phone with his back to us then back to the officer. “It wasn’t his fault,” I said quickly. “He saved me.”
“Yes, I know. Can I get you anything, Mrs. Holt?”
I blinked slowly, trying to sift through the fog in my mind. My ears still had a dull ringing in them, and my mind was a blur of dead people, gunshots, and consuming fear of being taken again.
Lucas.
It would have been Lucas I’d been taken from. The thought of never seeing him again devastated me.
“I don’t know,” I finally said, my voice barely audible.
By the time the driver came to where I was sitting in the back of the police car, the area was flooded with officers and people trying to see what was going on.
I lifted my head off the back of the seat and took the food and bottle he handed me.
“Please eat, Miss Holt. We need to get something in your system. Mr. Holt should be here shortly.”
I stopped trying to open the bottle of water, and said, “He’s coming?”
My relief was met with worry from the driver. “Yes, Miss Holt.” He took the bottle from my shaking hands and opened it before handing it back.
“It’ll be okay,” I promised. “You saved me; it’ll be okay.”
He nodded but didn’t look convinced.
“I don’t understand, why aren’t they questioning you? Why aren’t they questioning me? Why wasn’t the officer suspicious of you or us when he pulled up? Why aren’t they—?”
The driver shook his head once, and gave me a look that made me stop talking. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Miss Holt.”
“But—”
“We’re fortunate which officers arrived today.” And I knew from his tone that he wouldn’t say any more.
The sound of screeching tires drowned out the noise from the crowd that had gathered, and I tensed in preparation for the impact that would follow. Officers turned, and the driver reached down to his hip as he watched for the threat. But the impact never came, and the driver relaxed his stance. I sat up to look through the back window, and saw the devil himself storming out of a car, barely taking the time to slam the car door as he tore onto the scene.
I scrambled to get out of the police cruiser but was stopped by the driver.
