Page 4 of Reclaiming Chaos
“Bennett.”
“You better not hang up on me again?” my sister, Clara warned.
“Clara, I’m working. Unless it’s life or death, I have to go.”
“Oh, don’t play that card with me, brother. I know what’s going on, and I know what’s about to happen. You’ve got a minute to spare for your loving sister.”
Loving sister. I snorted, unable to stop myself. “I could have even more time for you if you’d just give me Carlee Tate’s location so I can quit chasing her.”
“Where is the fun in that?” Clara’s laugh filled the cabin. “Admit it. You admire this woman. She’s giving you a run for your money.”
“Did you call me just to gloat?” I asked as I turned toward the bridge and drove faster. My sister was a know-it-all. Literally. That was her gift. She’d often know things before they happened, and when push came to shove, she’d stick her nose in any of our brothers’ business if one of them needed the extra shove. It seemed like, this time, it was me, and that didn’t bode well.
“Maybe just a little. You know, I’m married to a federal agent and you’re related to a couple of law enforcement officials who would help you track her if you’d just ask for the extra help.”
“I don’t need it,” I answered, pressing harder on the gas pedal.
“Well, we do have a cousin who designed a facial recognition program just for situations like this. Are you sure you don’t want the extra help?”
“Why do I need them when I have you?” I asked. “Just give me the address.”
“There’s no need since she already did,” Clara said in a singsong voice. “Listen when you find her—or really, when she finds you, you can’t turn her over. No matter what you’re told, she can’t leave your side.”
A growing headache throbbed. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Happy birthday, Ridge. I’ll tell everyone you’re going to be a last-minute walk-in at the wedding.”
I pulled up to the bridge and parked the SUV. “Why the hell would I be late? My flight is two weeks early.”
“Love you,” Clara said and hung up.
“You too.” I disconnected the call and glanced down the bridge. The cement and steel bridge soared high over a dirty river. Anyone jumping would probably break a limb, if not their neck.
I checked my weapon in my shoulder holster before covering it up again with my jacket. Usually, I would have brought the team with me, but stopping a potential emotional jumper willing to die didn’t require an audience. It required finesse.
I got out of the SUV and scanned the area behind me. The nearest houses were spread apart with trees between. Most of the yards were brown and had seen better days. Rain clouds hung low in the sky. The roar of the river had me turning back toward the bridge. I kicked a pebble with my boot as I headed onto the empty four-lane bridge. Birds swooped overhead—a flock heading south. My jacket fluttered in the breeze that brought the scent of dead fish. Fishbones and broken fishing wire lay scattered against the railing.
A quick glance at my watch confirmed I was early. The railing up and down the bridge was empty on both sides of the road.
I walked back to my car and slipped inside to wait. I glanced in the rearview mirror to find a woman sitting in my back seat. Blonde hair stuck out from her hoodie. The coat cast a shadow along her face. But not the gaping bore of her pistol, pointed at the back of my skull.
“I knew you didn’t dye your hair,” I said, unable to stop myself.
Her lips quirked. “Aren’t you smart.”
“Carlee Tate, I presume,” I said without turning around. There was nothing in her file to indicate she had a gun or even knew how to use one. She wasn’t a killer. I knew it deep down in my gut.
“Ridge. I didn’t want us to meet like this,” she said and lifted her head more so I could see her. Her picture didn’t do her justice. In the photo, her hair was up in a bun. Glasses covered her eyes. She’d been wearing a business suit. Now she looked like a woman I’d pass on the street. One I might smile at and glance over my shoulder for another look. One I might even attempt a conversation with, ending with me getting her number. She moistened her lips, and that little move snapped me to attention. I wasn’t here to date my little fugitive. I was here to arrest her.
“How else did you think this would go down?”
She signed and frowned. “I just want to talk.”
“Okay,” I said and slowly turned in my seat. “Put the gun down, and we’ll talk as much as you want.”
“I brought you to this bridge to prove something to you, and it’s not a jumper.” She shook her head even as her gaze dropped to his lips. There was a longing in her eyes. For just a second, she let her determination slip that showed her softer side. Was there a breath of truth to what she’d claimed? A future with him that she’d seen?
“I’m here. What is it you want to prove?”
