“Stay on the line, sir. I’ll have an officer to speak with you shortly.”
“We need a helicopter, or these kidnappers will get away with their victim.”
“I’m relaying your information to marine dispatch, sir. Stay on the line and stay calm.”
Nolan gritted his teeth.I am calm. I need you to do your job.
Fynn steered the boat with surprising skill, weaving them around the occasional sailboat or speedboat, his eyes fixed on their target. After several minutes, the boat ahead turned right, angling farther away from the shore. Fynn adjusted their course to follow. A minute later the motorboat turned back left—
“Shit!” Nolan realized. “Don’t follow them.”
His words came a moment too late as Fynn adjusted their course again. “What? Why?”
“I think they made us. They were testing to see if we were following them.” Sure enough, the boat ahead suddenly leaped forward.
Fynn bared his teeth and opened up their own speed. They powered through the waves, bouncing as they hit the increasing chop of more open water. Fewer other boats cruised nearby now, making the chase obvious. Nolan clung to the railing and his phone, wishing he could pull his weapon from the hip holster under his loose polo. Not that he’d do any good with a handgun at long range from a bouncing boat, but they were gaining ground. He didn’t have enough balance to let go of the rail, though.
“We’re faster,” Fynn noted as they bounded along. “All right!”
“No! Slow down. Don’t get too close.”
“What does it matter? They know we’re here!” Fynn pushed another fraction of speed out of the boat, the engine rising to a whine.
“It matters because— Fuck!” The sound of a shot echoed across the water. Nolan couldn’t tell where the bullet went. Odds were, the kidnappers also couldn’t hit the side of a barn in these conditions, but he didn’t want to tempt fate. The raised front end screened Fynn some but not enough. “Stop! Pull back and keep low.”
Fynn ignored him. “If I stop, they’ll get away with Micah. Or shoot him.”
Nolan crouched down, shouting into his phone. “Shots fired. We need immediate assistance.” Static answered him and he glared at the screen. “You still have one bar, you piece of shit!”
“—sir, say that again?”
“Shots fired. Where’s the chopper?”
“This is Sergeant Woods of the marine unit,” a deep voice replied.
“Thankyou.” Nolan paused to tell Fynn again, “Stop here! I have the cops on the line.”
Fynn slowed, letting the gap between the boats widen again, but didn’t stop. “I’m not letting them get away.”
“What’s the situation?” Woods asked over the phone.
Nolan told the sergeant, “We’re in pursuit of a motorboat with one hostage, Micah Dempsey, and at least two kidnappers. I’m security for his brother, Fynn. Two masked men snatched Micah off the dock at the Southwinds Marina. We’re following them out on Lake Michigan on the Dempseys’ boat, flying a flag apostrophe-C-B.”
“What’s your location?”
“We headed northeast from the marina, about ten minutes now by fast motorboat.”Whatever the hell speed that is.“Still following.” He peered at the distant shore but didn’t recognize any landmarks. “Let me check GPS.”
He tried to get into his maps program, but the browser kept freezing. Suddenly, the boat swerved and lurched violently under his feet. He hit the side with his hip, and his phone flew from his hand. Futilely, he grabbed for the device as it bounced on the edge of the boat and dropped into the water. “Shit!”
“Sorry.” Fynn looked over, his eyes wide as he turned the boat sharply. “They’re coming at us!” Now off to the right, the motorboat had swung around and was plowing through the water toward them.
“Run away!”
“I’m trying!” Fynn put body language into turning the wheel, the boat tilting to one side.
Two shots rang out, different sounds.They’ve got a rifle!A bullet pinged off something, and Fynn yelped.
“Are you okay?” Nolan demanded. “Go, go, go!”
