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HOPE WATCHED THEbubbles rise from where her hostage and the cop had disappeared into the black depths. A couple of officers from boats nearby leaped into the water, diving low to try to help, but Hope knew there’d be no saving them. The deaths were easier now. She hadn’t meant to make the compressor go over the edge. The anger had zinged through her, taking possession of her limbs. She was surprised at how little impact the killing made on her psyche. There was a heat, a ringing in her ears, a pounding in her skull, but no regret, no paralyzing sorrow. That was good. If she needed to kill more now to get free, she knew it would be achievable.

“Is she coming up?”

The voice came from behind her. Hope turned and saw a man standing there, the rifle she’d been holding trained on her face. He was soaked through to the skin, blond hair plastered to his forehead, two black eyes and a bruised nose. His face seemed passive, but when Hope didn’t answer, he snapped.

“Is she coming up?”

“No.”

The man with the gun sneered. “I actually didn’t mind that woman.”

He turned the gun swiftly and slammed the butt into Hope’s jaw. She staggered, and her legs went out from beneath her. She felt teeth wobble in her mouth, swimming in blood. The man must have been a cop. In the spinning world, she saw him go to the edge of the bridge wing and wave at the boats below.

“Suspect down!”

I’ll never go down,Hope thought. She reached up while he was distracted by something below, her hand shaking. She slid her index finger into the trigger guard and pulled.

The gun roared, kicked out of his hand. The cop fell.