“I-Idon’t know,” I whispered, as the tears began to fall.
Maybethe Constable had left. Maybe the door had been slammed behind him, and that'swhat I had heard. Maybe those footsteps I wasall of a suddenhearing were Rick's and he was coming to find me, to tell me the coast wasclear. That had to be it. Everything was fine. Everything was—
“G-G-Getout ofth-there, Rosie!” Alec shouted. “Ye n-n-needto find a-a-a place to-to hide! Go!”
Yetthere was nowhere to go, as the door slowly opened, revealing the fat cop onthe other side and the blood splattered over his sinister grin.
“Rosie?!”Alec asked, his voice commanding and afraid, as Constable Sharp came toward meand plucked the phone from my hand.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ALEC
“Rosie?!”I shouted into the phone, as Finley started my car. “R-Rosie, ye g-gottaget--”
“Brodie,is that you, lad?”
Thevoice wasfamiliarbut it now came with a chillingcalm that left my spine frozen against the seat. Every drop of moisture wassucked from my mouth as I pulled the phone from my ear and put it onspeakerphone, so together, Finley and I could listen to Rosie's encounter withher sister's murderer.
“Sh-Sh-Sharp, if ye h-hurt her,I-I-I—”
Shescreamed for me, and then, came a slapping sound. A tussle. The shattering ofglass. Another scream. I gritted my jaw as we pulled out of the station’s carpark and barreled down the road toward Rick's house. We were fifteen minutesaway, ten if we drove well above the limit, and every second of that distancewas crucial. Every second was another chance for her to die.
“Sharp!”I barked, and I was answered with maniacal laughter.
“Oh,I think we'reupsettin' him, lass. We best keepwhat'scomin' next quiet.”
“N-no,no, no! Please, no!” Rosie exclaimed in a panic, before the car was filled withthe sound of her blood-curdling scream.
“Goddammit,Sharp! Getyerbloody hands off her!” Finley shouted,smacking his palm repeatedly against the wheel.
Myearsfelldeaf to the persistence of her pain as myvolcanic fury bubbled up and over. In an incontrollable fit of fiery rage, myfists punched, and my legs kicked against the dash, as my lungs expelled aprimal growl that could only come from somewhere deep in my soul. And StirlingSharp laughed.
“I'dsay he's pretty angry,” he said in a mocking voice. “Oh, no, come on, lass.Dinnaepass out on me now, Rosie—can I call ye Rosie?”
“Yefuckin' bastard,” I shouted from between gritted teeth, my throat raw and tornapart. “I'mgonnakill ye myself. I swear it. Ye're afuckin' dead man, Stirling. Do ye understand me?”
Sharpchuckled. “Oh, I understand yejust finenow, Brodie.Glad ye've gotten that s-s-s-stutter under control. But listen, mate; we'vegottaget out of here. She'sfadin'fast, and we've got plans. But I'll see ye soon, all right?”
“Sharp!”Finley exclaimed, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to stare at thescreen of my mobile. “Sharp, ye better—”
“He'sgone,” I croaked, my voice unrecognizable to myself.
Afterthrowing the mobile against the windshield, I pushed a fist to my mouth to keepmy soul from howling in despair, knowing what Rosie’s fate would be if I didn’tget to her in time. He was going to kill her, and it was my fault. Her bloodwould be on my hands, and that was a stain I'd wear for the rest of my life.
***
Thecar was steered into the drive and before Finley had finished parking, I’dalready bolted from my seat and down the path to the stone steps. The frontdoor was wide open, and as I took the steps two at a time, Rick's body and thepuddle of crimson came into view.
“Ah,Christ, Rick!” I shouted, dropping to his side, and pressing two fingersagainst his neck in search of a carotid pulse.
“I'malive,” he answered in a hoarse whisper, though his eyes were shut, and hispulse faintly fluttered beneath my fingertips. “He … he took Rosie.”
“Whatdid he do to ye?” I asked hurriedly, looking over his torso to find the tornhole in his shirt, just over his chest. “He shot ye?”
“A-aye.”
Hegrimaced as I gently rolled him onto his side, to find his shirt clinging tohis back, wet and sticky with his blood.
