Tanner kneeled down and reached under the woman’s head to lift her farther out of the water.
“There’s a man,” she said, struggling to get in air. “I—I—”
Tanner nodded. “Shh. Just focus on breathing. We’ll catch the guy who put you in here.”
Whitaker already had his phone out and on speaker. “Penelope, we’ve got the victim alive, but there’s no sign of the kidnapper.”
“We just spotted him coming out of the Northwest corner of the building.” Penelope’s voice was labored, obviously running. “Stay with the victim. Leon and I will catch him. Backup is en route.”
Whitaker turned to Tanner, taking in the situation. “Let me get the water turned off and find something for us to bail out some of it, before it covers her face.”
They wouldn’t be able to get her out of her shackles until more specialized help arrived. All they could do was keep her alive until then. Whitaker shut off the hose that was raining down the water then found an empty cup. It wasn’t much, but now that water wasn’t filling the box, it was enough for them to keep the woman from drowning.
They both tried to talk soothingly to her as they got out as much water as they could. Tanner didn’t recognize her as anyone famous, but he didn’t live around here. His best guess was that she was in her thirties. She had reddish-blond hair and, like Shelby and Kelly Quinn, was about five foot three and one hundred pounds.
Tanner reached down into the water and grabbed the woman’s hand, both to offer comfort and to stop her from pulling at the restraints. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“Jean Adams,” she finally managed to get out.
“You’re doing so great, Jean, okay? We’re not going to leave you. Someone is going to be with you every second until they get you out of here, okay?”
She nodded, her breathing already a little bit steadier.
Tanner looked over at Whitaker and raised an eyebrow. Whitaker shook his head and shrugged. Evidently Jean Adams wasn’t a celebrity to him either.
Whitaker continued to bail out water and Tanner held Jean’s hand, talking to her about almost-nonsensical things. He didn’t want to question her about anything important or difficult and cause her to get upset again. It wasn’t long before the other members of the Dallas PD were coming through the door.
But nothing was as good as the text Whitaker got just a few minutes later from Penelope. He turned it around so Tanner could read it himself.
Fleeing suspect apprehended and in custody.
It was over.
Chapter Ten
Six hours after she’d fallen asleep in an exhausted heap in the car, Bree was about to fade into oblivion again. But this time it was because Tanner was currently standing behind her in the large hotel shower and was washing her hair.
“You fading on me again, freckles?”
“Can you blame me this time?” She couldn’t stop her little moan as he rubbed his fingers more deeply into her scalp.
He reached down and kissed her shoulder. “I didn’t blame you last time. You needed it. We caught Elliot Webster because of you.”
She shrugged. “It was a team effort. But yeah, mostly me.”
He chuckled and kissed her shoulder again.
“Do you think Jean is going to be okay?” she asked.
Tanner pulled her back under the spray of the water. “Physically, yes. We got to her before any real damage could be done by the water. She’s at the hospital, mostly for observation.”
“But emotionally?”
He cupped his hand over her forehead so no soap would run into her eyes and tilted her head back. “It’s hard to know exactly what sort of emotional scars this leaves on a person. I daresay she might not take a bath for the rest of her life.”
Bree wouldn’t blame her. “But she’s alive—that’s the most important thing.”
“Absolutely. Always the most important thing.”
