She tried to cry out but the sound was lost in the water and mud filling her mouth.
As the last of the air left her lungs, it occurred to Harper that he finally had what he wanted. She was going to die.
Then, with shocking abruptness, Dowell was gone, the weight of him lifted from her chest.
Freed, Harper struggled to the surface and took a gasping breath. Seconds later, a hand grabbed her by the jacket, pulling her up and dragging her to a patch of grass.
“You okay?” Daltrey asked, bending over as Harper sank to her knees, coughing muddy water from her lungs. She spat, trying to clear the metallic taste from her mouth.
A few feet away, Luke stood grim-faced over Dowell’s body. The man lay on his side. His hands were cuffed, and he wasn’t moving.
“Is he alive?” Harper rasped the question through frozen lips.
“Barely.” Daltrey shone her flashlight into the darkness around them, her face alert. “Was he alone?”
“I th-think so.” Harper was shivering so hard the words came out in pieces. She’d never been this cold before. She felt strange—distant from her own body.
Luke waded over to them and crouched down next to Harper. His eyes searched her face. “You okay?”
She shook her head. She had never been less okay.
“We should search the area,” Daltrey told him. “His son could be out there.”
He didn’t take his eyes off Harper. “She’s in shock. We need to get her somewhere warm,” he said. “Backup’s on the way. Let them search. Anyway, if he’s out there for long, the gators’ll get him.”
He tried to pull Harper to her feet, but as soon as he let go, she sagged back toward the ground. Her legs had given up. There was no strength left in her.
Swearing softly, he slipped an arm beneath her shoulders and swept her into his arms, lifting her like a child.
“Hang in there,” he told her, and began striding across the marsh toward the road.
Faintly, above the sound of the rain, Harper heard sirens wailing. Far away, flickering blue lights lit up the sky.
She rested her cheek against his chest, where it fit like a puzzle piece put in the right place at last, and closed her eyes.
It was over.
35
The next morning, Harper sat propped up in her bed on the fourth floor of Savannah Memorial Hospital, holding the extra-large coffee DJ had smuggled in. She leaned over to look at the newspaper he was holding. The main headline read SUSPECTED MURDERER KILLED IN MARSH SHOOT-OUT.
Beneath it was a picture of Harper’s Camaro, deep in the mud, the headlight still shining a warning. It was juxtaposed with an old photo of Martin Dowell, square-faced and scowling. Next to that was a shot of Harper that Miles had taken last autumn, her auburn hair backlit by the sun.
The first paragraphs read:
Convicted murderer Martin Dowell died of a gunshot wound after attacking Daily News reporter Harper McClain on Highway 80 in the marshes near Oyster Creek during the height of the storm.
Dowell, who had been recently released after serving 17 years for murder, had been under the supervision of state police, until he removed his monitored ankle bracelet and disappeared two days ago, with the help of his son, Aaron Dowell.
McClain said he forced her car off the road and held her at gunpoint. He told her he’d come “to finish what he started” before firing at her repeatedly as she fled on foot.
McClain, who was also armed, shot back, striking Dowell in the chest.
He later died in the ambulance, en route to the hospital.
Police say they are investigating whether Dowell might have ordered the murder of Alicia McClain, mother of Harper McClain, in Savannah 16 years ago from his prison cell.
McClain has not been charged with any offense, although police said the case will be investigated.
Aaron Dowell is still missing.
She’d read enough. Shifting the paper, she glanced at the article taking up the right-hand side of the page under the headline THREE ARRESTED IN MUSICIAN’S MURDER.
Both stories were bylined “DJ Gonzales, Miles Jackson and Emma Baxter.”
“So Hunter’s going to be okay?” she asked, scanning the article.
“Yeah. They think he’ll make it.” DJ was sitting on the green vinyl chair next to her bed. “It was such an insane night. Baxter had to tear up the front page at midnight. Everyone helped. Miles was interviewing the cops while I was interviewing you.” He squinted at her. “Has Miles ever written a news story before?”
Harper shook her head, wincing as her fractured ribs shifted.
“Everyone was throwing each other lines, reading over each other’s shoulders.” He beamed at her. “It was like a movie.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” She said it with real regret.
“So … how bad is it?” He gestured at her arm, encased in plaster.
“Oh, it’ll heal.” She thumped her knuckles against the cast. “Broken in two places, but they pieced it back together. Two fractured ribs.”
She kept her tone light but DJ’s smile faded. He reached across the blankets and rested his hand on hers. “Hell of a night,” he said.
A memory of freezing water, darkness, and gunfire flashed through Harper’s mind, and she shuddered. “Yeah.”
Picking up his coffee, DJ looked around the bare, white room, with its bottles of hand disinfectant and official notices on the wall. “So, how long are they keeping you here?”
“I get out today, on good behavior.”
“I’ll tell Baxter. She’s been worried about you, even though she pretends not to care.” He paused before adding, “By the way, she told me about the layoffs.”
“Oh.” Harper gave him an apologetic look. “I should have told you. Things were so crazy.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. There’s something I didn’t tell you, too.” He looked down, his fingers tapping nervously on the chair arm. “Paul Dells offered me a job at Channel Five.”
Harper shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet she felt as if he’d slapped her. She didn’t know when, but at some point DJ had become essential to her. She couldn’t imagine the newsroom without him.
But all she said was, “He did?”
“Yep.” His eyes searched hers. “Baxter told me he offered you one, too.”
They studied each other across the pale blankets.
“What did you tell him?” Harper asked.
“I told him I already had a job.” He said it with some regret.
Relief flooded her chest with warmth. “I told him the same thing.”
“We’re such idiots,” he said.
They grinned at each other.
Maybe it was the pain medication, but suddenly she wished she could hug him.
Instead, she said, “You’re good people, DJ.”
Reddening, he rubbed his nose furiously before saying, “Right back at you.”
“Looks like we’ll be running the paper alone soon,” she mused. “Won’t be anyone left but us.”
“Yeah.” He smiled at her. “I think we can handle it.”
With a sigh, he stood up. “Well, I better let you get some rest. I’ve got about a hundred articles to follow up on. Your beat is hard work.” He patted her bed as he headed for the door. “Get back to the office soon. I can’t do this on my own.”
When he’d gone, she sagged back against the cool pillows. She would never admit it to him, but even that short visit had exhausted her. Every movement hurt. Her eyes fluttered shut.
She’d barely been alone since she got to the hospital. Bonnie had spent the night in the chair next to her. She’d only gone home a couple of hours ago to shower and change.
At some point in the night, Baxter had come in to check on her. It must have been two in the morning by then. Harper had been so drugged up, she couldn’t fully open her eyes.
The editor told her Dowell was dead. “He died before he reached the hospital,” she’d said
, standing beside the bed. “The police are out looking for his son.”
It had taken effort for Harper to form words, but she had to be sure she understood. “He’s really dead?”
Her lips tightening, Baxter had rested a hand on the bed rail. “Really dead. He’s never coming back.”
The rest of the editor’s visit was a blur. At one point, she thought she heard Baxter say, “Someday, I’d love for you to write a story that doesn’t end with you in the hospital.”
By then, though, Harper was falling back into a deep sedated sleep. She dreamed that she and her mother were back in the light-filled kitchen of the little house where she’d grown up. Standing in front of an easel, her mother was painting a field of white daisies, her brow creasing with concentration as she added slender green stems to each flower.
“It’s over, Mom,” Harper had told her, eagerly. “It’s finally over.”
In her dream, her mother had looked over at her and smiled; then the light in the room had blazed like a fire.
When Harper woke up, it was day, and she felt at peace.
After DJ left, she must have slept again. She didn’t know how long she’d been out before someone knocked at her door. Her eyelids were heavy, and she lifted them slowly, expecting a nurse.
Luke stood in the doorway.
“Hey.” She tried to raise herself up, but flinched when that brought a stab of pain.
He crossed the room in three steps, bending over her to straighten the pillows. He’d showered and shaved; she could smell the sandalwood shower gel he used. But it didn’t look as if he’d slept. Shadows underlined his eyes as he lowered himself onto the edge of the chair.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked.
“About a hundred years old, but I guess I’ll live. How’s it going out there?”
“Florida State Police pulled Aaron Dowell over a couple of hours ago on Interstate 10, driving a stolen car.” He gave her a look of pure satisfaction. “He’s in custody. He’s going to be charged in the murder of Lee Howard. We found a knife in his possession that could be the murder weapon. It’s being analyzed now.”
Harper let out a long breath.
Luke squeezed her good hand. “I knew you’d want to know.”
“Thank you,” she said, holding his gaze. “And for being there last night. You and Daltrey saved my life.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said, gruffly. “I’m just sorry you had to go through that.” He looked down, his brow knitted. “Last night scared the hell out of me,” he said. “Seeing your car like that … I thought for a second…”
His voice faltered. He lifted her hand to his lips.
“Do you have any idea how Dowell found me?” she asked.
“We think maybe he staked out Xavier Rayne’s house. If he’d seen your articles, he’d have known you’d come out there at some point.”
Harper tried to imagine Dowell watching everything unfurl outside the house. Cara holding the gun in a shaking hand. Hunter sliding down the steps, color draining from his face.
“I’ll give him credit—it was a good time to go for you,” Luke said. “That storm was so bad, the highway was closed. The chief banned all nonemergency travel out of the city. We only got permission to go when Tybee Police called in about the shooting. That’s where we were headed when we saw the SUV parked on the side of the road. At first we thought someone had broken down. Then we spotted what was left of the Camaro.” He drew a breath. “We put it together pretty fast after that. We knew you were out there somewhere, and he had to be out there too. The rest you know.”
“Luke, what’s going to happen to me?” She searched his eyes. “Are you going to investigate me?”
He went quiet. “There’ll be an investigation,” he said, finally. “I won’t have anything to do with it because…” He didn’t have to finish that sentence. “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to be fine. You stopped a killer from killing all three of us. No prosecutor in Georgia will want to try that case. If some fool tries, you’ll win.”
Harper thought of all that Dowell’s vendetta had cost. This had to be the end of it.
“I hope you’re right,” she said.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Look, there’s something else we need to—”
“Miss McClain, how are you?” A nurse bustled in, interrupting him.
Jumping to his feet, Luke retreated to a corner of the room as the woman checked Harper’s blood pressure and oxygen levels. After pushing various buttons on a number of machines, the nurse headed for the door, saying cheerfully, “I’ll be back shortly with your pain meds.”
When she was gone, Luke stayed by the window, staring out.
Harper looked at the side of his beautiful face—the worried crease in his brow. “Hey,” she said. “What were you going to say?”
He hesitated before turning to face her. “It’s nothing. We can talk about it when you’re better.”
The moment felt weighted with all the unspoken words and misunderstandings that had driven them apart for years, and she willed him to say something true, just this once. Anything at all.
He cleared his throat, his eyes skittering around the brightly lit room.
“This isn’t the right time, or the right place.” His face was hard, as if the words were costing him. “But, last night, seeing you, half dead. I learned something. Something I should have learned a long time ago.” He met her eyes. “I love you, Harper. And I don’t know what to do about that.”
She reached out for him. “I don’t know what to do, either,” she said. “But, I love you, too.”
He took her hand and bent down, his lips gently brushing hers.
“We can’t ever have a normal relationship,” he said, his breath warm against her skin. “Our jobs won’t let us. We can’t do this.”
“I know,” she said. “But I don’t want to live without you.”
He straightened, looking down at her with those watchful blue eyes she’d loved since she was twenty-one years old, and he was a rookie cop, and she a rookie reporter. That was seven years ago. So long to wait.
“We’ll figure something out,” he said.
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.
The nurse bustled back in, humming to herself.
Luke stepped back again. Glancing at the nurse, who held a tray of medicines, he said, “I better get moving.”
He crossed the room, his shoes silent against the linoleum, and paused in the doorway.
“By the way, what are you going to do about the car?”
Harper hadn’t had a chance to think about that yet. The Camaro was totaled.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess, get a new one? Somehow. With no money.”
“I might be able to help,” he said. “Give me a call when you’re out of here. I’ll hook you up.”
It was so Luke. I love you. Let’s get you a safe car.
When he was gone, the nurse came over with the pills and a cup of water and glanced at the empty doorway.
“Now that’s a good-looking detective,” she observed.
Harper smiled as she took the cup from her. “Yes, he is.”
THREE MONTHS LATER
Bonnie walked out onto the porch holding two glasses of wine. She pushed the door shut with her foot and crossed to where Harper sat. “I really like this place,” she said, holding out a glass. “Once you’re settled you’re going to love it. I can tell.”
Harper looked around doubtfully and took a sip of wine. “I guess I’ll get used to it.”
“You will.” Bonnie sat down across from her. “It’s so great seeing your stuff out of storage again. Though why you had to move on the first hundred-degree day of the year…” She leaned back in the chair, propping up her feet. “Still, it’s worth all that sweat for this.”
The night air was velvet soft, perfumed with the scent of the honeysuckle that tumbled over the fence from the garden next door.
“It’s probably just a relief to have me out of your house,” Harper said, giving her a look.
“Never. I loved having a housemate.” Bonnie relaxed back against the high seat back. “It’s too quiet without you there. I might get a dog.”
Harper snorted. “I love that I can be replaced by a poodle.”
“Not a poodle,” Bonnie said. “A German shepherd.”
Sipping the cold wine, Harper looked at her new home. Made of a pale, rose-colored stone, the building on Huntingdon Street was hulking and sturdy, with a high peaked roof and a fanciful curved front porch. Inside, the apartment was big, with original wood floors that showed their age, and windows big enough to step through without bending.
It wasn’t a bad place to end up. It felt good. It felt safe.
A stack of flattened boxes lay at the foot of the front steps, waiting to be taken to the recycling center. Her new car was parked a few feet away. Like the house, the black Dodge Charger still felt strange to her. Luke had, as he’d promised, helped her find it. It had been seized from a drug dealer and sold by the police at a steep discount. She’d paid for it with the car insurance money.
She and Luke were still figuring things out. As he’d promised, he’d broken up with Sarah. But nobody on the police force could know that the two of them had resumed seeing each other. It had to be secret. Possibly forever. And she had no idea how that would work.
Right now, though, her heart leaped every time he called at midnight to see if she was coming to his place. She loved the novelty of waking up next to him.
For the moment, that was enough.
“I can’t believe we got everything unpacked in one day.” Bonnie stretched her tanned legs, propping her feet up on the stone bannister a few feet from where Zuzu sat hunched, studying her new kingdom with open suspicion. “Billy was so nice. My landlord wouldn’t pick up a box to help me if my life depended on it.”
“Billy’s one of a kind.” Glancing at her, Harper said, “Hey, thanks for all the free labor.” She held up her glass. “I hope we don’t have to do that again for a very long time.”
Revolver Road Page 28
