Her knees hurt. Policing was a killer for bad knees, hips, shoulders – all those pieces of equipment that needed to be strapped on. Heavy belts and flak jackets. Jessica thought she must have scraped her knee on a rock on the road when she rolled away as the car rocketed towards Tasik. There was blood on her shins, her elbows, her hands, dirt on her clothes. Jessica knew that if she stopped a car coming up the mountain before she got within range of a cell tower, she would have some explaining to do.
She rounded a bend and the canyon opened up before her. Los Angeles dazzled far below, a scattering of gold lights.
She was higher up the mountain than she’d realised. Below her, the road snaked between the canyons, empty. She sighed and marched on.