“Cox!”he called.“Give up!Come out where I can see you!I can get you medical help.”He felt only the slightest tug of guilt at the lie.“Otherwise, you’re going to bleed to death out here.Is that how you want this to end?”
No answer.He looked right and left down the path, and when he saw no trail of blood, he cursed a third time and moved into the trees.
No sign of Cox.He continued forward, scanning for footprints, sniffing for the coppery scent of blood, listening for labored breathing.
Nothing.
“Goddamnit,” he swore.“Cox!Show yourself!”
More rustling caught his attention, and when he swung his light that way, he saw him.Pale skin, wide, terrified eyes, a red bloom on the white of his robe.
He fired twice, but the face disappeared just before he pulled the trigger.He swore and sprinted after Cox, searching for an opportunity to fire.
Cox weaved through the trees, keeping them in between him and Marcus, denying Marcus his shot.Marcus picked up speed, ignoring the branches whipping at his face.Cox’s silhouette flickered in front of him, an apparition fading in and out of reality.
A scream split the air, a banshee’s cry of terror.Cox seemed to sink into the Earth, and a corner of Marcus’s mind imagined the killer had been pulled through a pit straight to Hell.
His more grounded senses snapped at him to stop.He pulled up just at the edge of the trees and shone his flashlight down.
He’d stopped inches before falling into a deep ditch.A creek ran through that ditch, water splashing and roiling forcefully.He wondered if a pipe had burst to cause that kind of flow or if this particular stretch of water was always so rapid.
A tattered purple cloth, the bottom half soaked maroon with blood, lay against the culvert.There was no sign of its wearer.
Marcus searched for several minutes, jogging downstream and scanning the ditch and the trees beyond for any sign of Cox.He finally gave up when he reached the end of the park and came to a stop on a sidewalk bordering an avenue.
His phone buzzed.He didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was an FBI code.He answered.“Agent Reid.”
“Sir, this is Sergeant La Roux.I’m the leader of the SWAT team assigned to assist you and Agent Valentine.We’re at the location, but Agent Valentine appears gravely injured, and… where are you, sir?”
Sergeant La Roux made no attempt to hide the irritation in his voice.Marcus could only imagine how much sharper Winters’s irritation would be when she learned of their actions.
“I’m at the northwestern corner of the park just west of the church,” he replied.“I pursued the suspect to a channeled creek near the western edge and followed that to civilization.”He gritted his teeth.“I’ve… lost track of him.”
La Roux’s irritation was considerably softer when she replied, “Understood, sir.I’ll have an officer wait with Agent Valentine until medical assistance arrives.The rest of us will search the area.”
“Look for blood,” Marcus told her.“I wounded him before he managed to escape.”
La Roux hesitated for a brief moment before saying, “Understood, sir.”
She closed the connection, and Marcus stood on the side of the road, staring across at the white puddle of light cast by the LED lamp arched overhead.A car approached, then passed, a Toyota crossover.The driver, an older woman with straight gray hair, gave him a suspicious look over her glasses before accelerating away.
Marcus sighed heavily, then turned around and trudged back to the church to meet the SWAT team.Once again, the Lawgiver had slipped through their fingers.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Friday, December 11th
Kate sat ramrod straight in front of Winters’ desk.She was on a decent dose of Percocet at the moment, but her cracked ribs still protested any attempt at slouching.They’d returned to Portland this morning, the first day she was allowed to travel after being treated for three cracked ribs, a moderate concussion, and a severely bruised pharynx.
Marcus sat next to her, also ramrod straight, though Kate suspected frustration and fear were more likely the cause of his own posture.Fear because he and Kate were in Winters’ office to answer for their choice to ignore her instructions and go after Cox themselves and frustration because despite their best efforts, he had escaped again.
“How are you feeling?”Marcus asked her.
Kate started to laugh, but the pain in her chest and throat cut it short.“I’m alive,” she replied.“That’s a lot better than I could have been.”And a lot less than I wanted.
Her voice wasn’t quite so hoarse anymore, so that was a silver lining.She’d feared permanent damage to her vocal cords from the force of Cox’s assault and the length of time his hands were around her neck, but it seemed his eagerness had dulled his senses.His thumbs were just off of the most vulnerable part of her windpipe, and the damage to her neck was limited to deep bruising.
It looked ugly as hell, though.She was grateful for the nine inches of snow and the significant drop in temperature that brought it the night before.It gave her an excuse to wear a scarf, one that would remain tightly wrapped around her neck when she visited her mother for dinner tomorrow.
