Page 37

CHAPTER 37

The bullet sent me onto my back, white-hot pain searing my shoulder. My mouth open and closed, but nothing came out. No air, no words. Someone in the distance was calling for an ambulance.

Then I heard, “He’s running. Go, go, go,” and the sound of feet bulldozing through the sand.

I turned, trying to get a look at what was happening down the beach. Pushing up on my one good arm, I shouted for them to take him down, not to let him get away. I lifted to my feet, holding my hand over the bullet wound, and saw the officers running, then slowing, turning their guns toward the dunes, spanning the space.

Terrence was nowhere in sight.

Had he gotten away?

Disbelief had me dropping to my knees. I glanced at my shoulder, at the hole burned through my sweatshirt, all the sand and blood mixing together into a thick paste.

I fell onto my back once again and tried to slow my breathing, to will the shock to subside, so I could find the killer and …

Do what, Sloane?

You have no weapon.

I don’t know how long I lay there. More officers had arrived, as did the EMTs, who were working on me now.

I needed to call Maddie.

I reached out to one of the techs. “Can I have my phone?”

“You won’t be needing that, Ms. Monroe.”

“Huh?”

I turned my head.

Terrence was standing in front of me, his gun aimed straight at my head. He must have come full circle, and the cops were there , not here …

He waved the techs away, and they backed up, hands raised.

What else could they do?

I shut my eyes, prepared for the end—my end.

And then a long, wild scream rang through the air.

What the ? —?

I opened one eye.

Maddie was on Terrence’s back, pulling his hair, ripping at his eyes and mouth. He bucked and twisted, but she wouldn’t let go. He tried to turn the gun on her, holding it high, then low, trying to get the proper angle. But she knocked it from his hand. Then she did something I didn’t expect, even for her. She jerked her head to the side and bit his ear.

The shock from my bullet wound was replaced by the shock of seeing my best friend riding this man’s back like a wicked rodeo queen.

Terrence ran in a circle, bending to swipe at the fallen gun.

He missed, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the cane. I scrambled toward it and grabbed the tiger’s-eye knob with one hand. Rising to my feet, I tossed the cane in the air and caught it for a better grip. Then I ran straight for him, swinging back and then upward, right between his legs.