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“What does that mean?”
“He’s dying. Cancer.”
“Good, but it’s still not good enough. Chad, you can’t honestly be considering—”
“To tell you the truth, Ally, I’ve not had much time to think about it. I had to offer him something, and if I get to Shawn in time it will only be due to Vincent, not any of us.”
Ally slammed something, then Chad recognized the choking sound as she started her car. “I’ll put the lights on and be there as soon as I can.”
“Has the DI okayed it?”
“No, but I’m doing it anyway.”
Chad snorted. “And you wonder who I get my reckless streak from.”
“You had it long before you met me. I’m just trying to make sure no other serial killer takes advantage of it.”
****
Castle Hill.
A popular hang-out for students on a summer’s day. The benches were tagged with names and positioned to face the city view. Josh had subtly dropped into conversations he’d had many make-out sessions on top of the hill when he was in college.
It was too cold for make-out sessions. The small car park was empty, but Chad spotted the tire marks cutting through the grass, leading off to a row of benches.
Chad gasped at the car responsible, parked between two, overlooking the sun setting over the city.
“I see his car,” Chad shouted, slamming his foot on the brake.
The wheels squelched through the mud, and Ally shouted something, but Chad was gone, slipping on wet grass, leaving the door open in his wake, as he raced to Tate’s car.
Tate’s car was silent, and he couldn’t see anyone inside.
“Tate!”
Chad skidded to a stop on the other side of the car, taking in the scene.
Tate on his knees.
Shawn laid out on the mud.
Tate’s hands were on his brother, pushing his chest, but he stopped and looked up at Chad. The horror on Tate’s face stole Chad’s breath. The howl of the wind and the vibrating of his car faded until he could only hear Tate.
His worn-out breathing.
The rustle of his clothing as he gestured wildly to his brother.
“Help me.” Tate sobbed. “Please.”
His broken plea cut into Chad’s heart. He hurried over and dropped to his knees on the other side of Shawn. Tate slipped his hands off his brother’s chest, and Chad took over, pushing down in a rhythm of thirty before pinching Shawn’s nose to give him two rescue breaths. Tate clawed at his scalp, drawing blood that dripped down his forehead. He kept digging his nails in and muttering something Chad couldn’t hear under his breath.
“Tate…”
His head snapped up.
“My phone.”
Tate swiped his sleeve against his forehead before blood dripped in his eyes. “Where is it?”
