Too soon the scenery changed, and Rafe hadn’t found anything. He slowed, searching for a place to turn around. He found a place where the trees weren’t right next to the road. It would give him enough space to turn. He had his SUV perpendicular when, through the trees, he saw them.
Nathan Williamson tightly held his ex-wife with one arm and in his other hand, he held a gun, pointed at another man.
Rafe blinked.
Chad Ruskey?
Chad Ruskey had Janie. He, too, had a gun.
It was aimed at Janie.
Chad didn’t notice Justin Robbins, moving in a crouch between the trees, coming toward them. CeeCee saw him and struggled to escape Nathan’s grasp, get his hand away from her mouth.
Rafe drove his SUV off the road, over a berm and scraping against trees. The vehicle bounced up once, twice, before stopping right behind Nathan. He practically fell out the door, trying to get to Janie. He grabbed at his sidearm, wanting to do something, anything, to get Chad’s gun away from Janie.
And get him to aim at him instead.
It worked.
Chad let go of Janie and pointed his gun at Rafe, pulling the trigger. Rafe had the driver’s-side door to thank for stopping the bullet. Nathan wasn’t so lucky as the second bullet hit him, knocking him off balance. But he didn’t release his hold on CeeCee.
Janie scrambled away from Chad, but he turned his gun back onto her.
Rafe took him out with one bullet.
CeeCee went to her knees, keening, and Nathan went down with her, holding her, rocking her back and forth. Only one word came from him, over and over, choked out through his tears. “Why? Why? Why?”
Justin was already talking on his radio, giving their location, although surely Candy already had backup on the way.
It took Rafe three steps to make it to Janie’s side and to pull her up, brushing the grass and twigs from her shirt and gently using his fingers to unclench hers.
“You’re all right,” he whispered. “You’re all right.”
“I knew you’d come.”
Rafe couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Maybe his dad’s funeral. No. Maybe as a young boy listening to his mom cry every December 3rd—the date Ramon had disappeared.
But he cried now and wrapped his arms around Janie, drawing her close and promising himself that he’d never let her go. His habit of making all cases—especially missing persons—his life wasn’t making him a better sheriff. It kept him from understanding that he needed other people, emotionally as well as physically. He couldn’t solve every crime, couldn’t change what had happened with his brother, but he could move forward and change the future.
His future.
Janie had never looked more beautiful. Her eyes were red and bloodshot. A deep scratch was at the edge of her mouth. It complemented the black eye that was just starting to fade. Her BAA shirt had dirt and something else on it.
“It’s all right.” Janie gave his words back to him as she touched his face.
It was Justin who handcuffed CeeCee. In the distance, the sirens sounded—help was on the way.