The cop keeps the gun trained on me as he shuffles his feet but stays planted in his position several feet away.
Over his shoulder, I can see flashlights waving back and forth as others run along the dunes toward us. I just hope they're not as stupid as this guy appears to be. Come on, come on.
Movement from the ground between us has both of our eyes dropping to Remi. At first, it's just her arms twitching, but then her whole body starts convulsing as well.
“Remi!” I shout at the same time the cop says, “Shit.” And then he's lowering his gun.
I drop to my knees, trying to reach for her jerking body, but then the gun is right there, pointing directly in my face, stopping me in my tracks.
“Back the fuck up, now!”
“Can't you see she needs help?!” The sound of my voice conveys the level at which I'm freaking out right now, but it's like he can't hear me. Or doesn't want to.
I can't believe he's still just standing there doing absolutely nothing.
Finally, the others reach us.
People who appear to be paramedics approach Remi and I stand up to get out of the way, ignoring whatever the hell the cop is saying to me. My focus is on Remi, and what they're doing to her. Thankful that someone is doing something now.
When my arm is grabbed and yanked behind my back, I struggle free and spin around to face the guy.
“Don't fucking touch me.”
Another cop appears beside me and starts grabbing at my other arm. I manage to pull it free once again, but then the two of them are on me while I wrestle against them.
“You're going back to prison, asshole,” one of them grunts out.
“No! I didn't do anything!” I continue struggling, trying to fight against both of them, but it's no use. “Remi!” I call out as if she can help me.
When they shove me to the ground, pressing my face sideways into the grains, each of them digging a knee into my spine, the air gets forced from my lungs, and sand makes its way into my eye.
They're telling me things that I can't hear right now.
The sand scratching at my eye, the pain in my back, the metal digging into my wrists . . . none of it matters right now.
Because right now, my face is aligned with Remi's.
I'm looking directly at her.
She's no longer convulsing.
She just looks . . . dead.
CHAPTER 25
Jacob
Time creeps by at an excruciatingly slow pace. Every one loud tick from the clock on the wall feels like ten.
I don't know what time it is.
I don't know how long I've been sitting here with my forehead resting against the cool metal table.
I don't even know how long I've been in this place or what day it is.
Mentally, I'm still back on that beach, watching as Remi convulses in front of me and then turns lifeless before my eyes.
I don't want to see it.
