Cold Case Secrets. Maggie K. Black

in his cast-iron core and take him right back to being fourteen years old was the sound of someone screaming.

      His sister, Faith, had fought for her life. That much he knew without a doubt about the attempted kidnapping that had ended her life. She’d thrashed, kicked and clawed at the would-be abductor. Her killer had strangled her and left her lifeless body there by the side of the road. But he hadn’t succeeded in taking her alive. No match had ever been found for the DNA retrieved from under her fingernails. But Jacob had never given up hope that it would and that, one day, he’d would have the satisfaction of knowing that the criminal who’d killed his sister had been sentenced to life in prison because Faith had died fighting him with every ounce of Henry blood pumping through her heart.

      Jacob was the one who’d let her down. True, it had been their brother Trent’s responsibility to walk Faith home from school. But Jacob was the eldest and he’d been wrong to trust his younger brother to take care of something that important, instead of dropping out of track-and-field to make sure he did it himself. “Warren, tell me you’ve still got eyes.”

      “Straight ahead,” Warren said. “A bit to your right. You should see them any minute now.”

      What had he been thinking, leaving Grace alone like that? If she was now on top of the rock face, he imagined that meant she’d somehow climbed up from inside the crevice the moment his back was turned. And then what? And why? What possible reason could she have had for doing that? Did she think she knew better than he did? Grace Finch was more than challenging. She was trouble. And now she was going to get herself killed.

      Another scream shook the air. But it wasn’t the desperate and panicked cry of a girl in trouble. No, this sound was determined, furious and angry, and something about it lifted his heart.

      “Update?” he all but barked.

      “Straight ahead!”

      Jacob looked up as the trees parted and the top of the ridge he’d been following came into view. There they were, at least a story and a half above him. A bald and heavily tattooed killer named Victor Driver was holding Grace from behind, with one beefy, tattooed arm wrapped around her waist and the other trying to get around her throat. But she was fighting him, thrashing against his grip with all her might.

      “Stop! Police! Let her go!” Jacob shouted. He raised his weapon. He’d aim for the shoulder or torso, hopefully taking the man down in a way that kept him alive to face justice. He’d take a kill shot if he had to and only as a last resort. But he didn’t have any hope of getting a clear shot as long as Grace was thrashing. Frustration burned inside him. Hadn’t she heard him? Didn’t she know he was there? If only she would go limp and give him a clean shot, he could save her life. Then it struck him—even if she knew he was there with a gun trained on her attacker, she might still try to take matters into her own hands.

      He aimed high and fired. The bullet flew by barely an inch from Driver’s head. The criminal froze like an animal caught in the headlights. But Grace didn’t stop for a second, almost as if she’d been expecting it. She spun back with her elbows high and struck Driver in the face. The criminal bellowed and grabbed his nose. She broke free and pelted down the rock face toward Jacob.

      “Jacob!” she shouted. “He’s got a semi-automatic! He just needs to reload!”

      He ran toward her, reaching the rock face just as she got to the edge. She looked down. “How do I get down from here?”

      “Jump! I’ll catch you!”

      Her eyes scanned the drop and then her chin rose. “Okay. I’m coming!”

      He shoved his gun back in his holster. She took a deep breath and leaped. He opened his arms and she tumbled into them, just as easily and smoothly as if she’d been made to be in them. Her hands latched around his neck. He held her tightly.

       Grace Finch was in his arms...

      “I’m sorry I left the crevice,” she said. “I just wanted to get a better look at what was going on.”

      “That’s okay,” he said.

      “Thank you for catching me,” she said and pushed back against his chest. He set her down. “He’s got a modified TEC-9. Don’t ask me how because he definitely didn’t take that off a guard. All I know is I don’t want to be here when he gets it working.”

      “Me neither.” A weapon like that could shred the trees and take them down a dozen times over before they even known what hit them. And a serial killer and escaped convict had somehow gotten ahold of one? “Come on.”

      Impulsively, he grabbed her hand. She let him take it and together they ran along the rock face.

      “Kevin!” he shouted. “We need an airlift. Now.”

      “Good!” Kevin said. “Because that ten minutes is running out fast.”

      “Don’t remind me,” Jacob said. “We had a second criminal sighting—Victor Driver. Somehow he’s gotten his hands on a TEC-9.”

      He could’ve done without the whistle Kevin filled his ear with.

      “How’d he get an illegal black market semi-automatic?” Warren barked. “He must have outside help. There’s no way he lifted that from a guard.”

      “Yeah, we know.”

      “Are he and Cutter working together?” Warren asked.

      “No clue. Just get us out of here, and I’ll fill you both in and call in the sightings while we’re in the sky.”

      As much as he’d have liked to bring both Cutter and Driver back with him, saving Grace was enough. More than enough.

      “Okay, there’s a sheer stretch of rock sixty degrees southeast,” Warren said. “I can lower the ladder there. Just follow the sound of the river.”

      “What about the rescue basket?” Jacob asked.

      “There’s something wrong with one of the tether points,” Warren said. “Ladder is safer.”

      “Got it,” Jacob said. At least he already knew Grace was comfortable climbing, although a suspended ladder wasn’t exactly the same as the rock crevice. He ran with Grace by his side and her hand tight in his.

      “Watch out!” Kevin said, “There’s another heat signature coming up on your right—”

      But even as he spoke, he saw the stocky figure of Cutter ahead of them, a fresh gun clutched in his hand. His heart stopped. He had one convict ahead of them, one behind them, a forest to his right, a rock wall to his left...and a woman holding his hand who he had to protect with his life. Jacob pulled his weapon and fired, but not before Cutter was able to get off a shot of his own.

      “Grace, get down!” Save her, Lord! Jacob leaped, throwing himself in front of Grace just as he felt the searing hot pain of Cutter’s bullet pierce his shoulder.

      * * *

      He’s been shot! Fear flooded Grace’s core, even as her body hit the ground. Jacob landed beside her, his cry of pain mingled with the sound of gunfire that still seemed to echo in the air.

      Detective Jacob Henry had been shot.

      She rolled, sliding her body out from under him as safely as she could without jolting him. Her eyes darted around the trees. She couldn’t see Cutter anywhere, but whether he’d been shot, run off or was just biding his time, he couldn’t have gone far. Either way, they couldn’t just stay here and wait for him to fire again. A large jagged rock, at least three feet high, lay to her right. She grabbed Jacob’s uninjured arm and crawled for it, half leading and half pulling him, feeling him crawl after her. They collapsed behind it and she turned to Jacob. He was lying on his side. Blood seeped from his right shoulder. “Jacob? Are you okay?”

      “No!” He groaned. “I’ve been shot.”

      She almost laughed at the sheer strength