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Eric yawned, rubbed his eyes, and stared at the house in the woods. The house that had been the lair of an evil man and become a place of threats and murder. Snow was still falling, covering everything in a coating of beauty. How could that be, after all the horror of this house?
"You all right?" Brady asked.
"Heckuva day."
Brady smiled, but it faded fast. "I'm kind of ticked that you did all this without me. Most exciting thing to happen in town since..."
"Not that long ago," Eric said. "Just since Sam and Garrison—"
"Good point."
Eric turned his attention to the front door, where two officers carried a gurney with Carlos Otero's body down the porch steps. The men slid the body into the back of the coroner's van.
"Maybe we've had enough excitement in Nutfield for a while," Eric said.
Brady nodded. "You ready to tell me what happened?"
Eric turned to his friend, his chief, and nodded. He explained the unbelievable events of the last few hours, at least the ones he knew.
"So you escaped, but you came back?"
"What choice did I have, Brady? She was here."
"I understand. Go on."
"I was outside trying to figure out how to rescue Kelsey when Surfer Dude found me."
Brady's eyebrows lifted. "He found you? I just assumed you'd seen him. How'd you get away?"
He remembered the moment. The gun pointed at his back as he walked deeper into the woods, away from his wife and toward his own death. His own death—that, he could have handled, but knowing Kelsey was in Carlos's hands... No, he'd had no choice but to fight.
There'd been nothing special about the tree he'd chosen. He'd just gotten up his nerve, and when he walked by it, he ducked behind. Then he bolted behind another tree, then a bunch of shrubs. He'd kept low.
The man had been smart enough to keep his distance. Eric hadn't been able to reach him, to attack. But the distance worked against him now. He followed, shouted threats.
Eric ran.
The man chased him. And he was fast. And armed. Eric had figured he'd start firing, but Surfer Dude didn't waste his bullets or pause to aim.
Pure adrenaline pushed Eric forward. But the man never fell far enough behind, especially with Eric ducking behind trees, trying to stay out of his line of fire.
Eric dashed behind a tree, circled it, and attacked Surfer Dude head-on.
The man was shocked. He aimed and fired, but the bullet zoomed past Eric's head.
Eric tackled him, managed to get his hand on the weapon, and fought for control.
Surfer Dude hadn't been the quickest pup in the litter, but he was strong. And he fought dirty.
Eric could fight dirty, too. And he had more to fight for.
He got the man on his back, got his gun-arm extended, but the gun flew a few feet away. Eric came down on the man's arm hard. It snapped.
The man screamed.
Eric lunged for the gun, but the man grabbed his foot, flipped him. Tackled him and kneed him in the kidneys.
Eric yanked on his broken arm.
The man screamed again.
Eric flipped him off and grabbed the gun.
Turned.
The man lunged.
The memory was too close. Eric squeezed his eyes closed and relived every moment as he told Brady.
"So you fired," Brady said.
"I fired. He went down."
"Okay." Brady looked toward the forest where Eric had directed a few cops as soon as they'd arrived. "And the other man, the one you said was unconscious?"
"Mateo. I texted him from Surfer Dude's phone. He'd asked for an update on the search, and I told him I was dead. I asked Mateo to come help me dispose of the body. When Mateo got there, I jumped him, knocked him unconscious with the gun, and left him there."
"Good thinking," Brady said.
"Good training. Except I had nothing to tie him up with, and I was focused on getting to Kelsey." Eric looked at the closed ambulance door. His wife was inside being examined, though she'd insisted she was unhurt.
Alive and safe and free of all of this at last.
He still couldn't believe it.
"And the woman," Brady said.
He looked back at his boss. "A victim. One of Carlos's...girls."
"She could have killed you. According to your wife, she murdered Carlos."
Eric shrugged, stared into the forest. "Yeah. She could have killed Kelsey. But she didn't." What kind of life could that woman have now? A slave for half her life, a murderer. A child on the way.
He'd leave that in God's hands. He had his own family to worry about now.
"We found my truck, by the way."
Eric turned back to his friend. "Oh, good."
"It was fine."
"And Rae's okay?" Eric asked again. He'd been horrified to hear how Carlos had lured Kelsey out of the house, horrified that Rae had been in danger. Donny was a cop. He'd signed up for it. But Rae had just gone along to keep Kelsey company.
"She's fine," Brady said. "Safe and relieved you guys are, too. She's already talking about writing a series of stories on human trafficking."
"Rae, the crusading journalist."
Brady smiled the way he always did when he talked about his wife. "Yup. At least she's willing to lead her crusades from the safety of Nutfield, New Hampshire."
"Right." Eric took in the scene—the ambulance, the coroner's van, emergency vehicles, and all their lights reflecting off the fresh snow. "Because Nutfield has proved to be so safe."
Brady's laugh filled the snowy night.