CHAPTER 17
935 Words
CHAPTER 17
Kennedy wanted to get out of the van, too, but there was so much glass around her she couldn’t move. The police were here now. That was what really mattered. They would find Gino, put him behind bars where he belonged. Kennedy could go to her aunt’s tomorrow — or was it technically today by now? When she returned to campus next month, she wouldn’t have to worry about panic attacks or post-traumatic stress disorder or anything like that. Gino would face justice. So would Vinny. And she could focus on school.
Everything would return to normal, and she would be just fine.
“All right, miss, let’s take a look at your arm.”
A mustached policeman leaned down near Kennedy’s splintered window. He shined the flashlight at her.
“Nope. That ain’t glass.” He straightened up, c****d his head, and muttered something into the walkie-talkie on his shoulder.
Kennedy bit her lower lip. Sure, she was in pain, but it wasn’t anything the doctors couldn’t handle. Nobody was freaking out about blood loss or anything like that. If her injuries were life threatening, she would know it, right? It wasn’t anything like getting stabbed in the back with a four-inch blade. Her arm hurt, but what was a little pain as long as the people who wanted her dead were in custody?
Wait, they were in custody, right?
“Did you find Gino?” she asked. “The one in the black car?”
The officer lowered himself back down by the window. “Easy now. We’ll have plenty of questions. But let’s start by looking at that arm of yours.” He frowned and mumbled something else in code on his radio. What did that mean? Did it mean she was dying? No, he’d be applying pressure if she was at risk of bleeding out, not standing there with his chin in his walkie-talkie, right?
“Did you get Gino? He’s the guy they just said was another partner in the kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping?” The officer shined the flashlight in Kennedy’s face. “You the other girl?” he asked after a pause. “The one they picked up with Abernathy’s kid?”
Kennedy nodded, and the officer let out a slow whistle under his breath.
“All right. So this Gino just started chasing you guys in his car? What were you doing out so late?”
She wasn’t sure where to start. At her chemistry final? In the subway? In her dorm room? Had that all really just happened today? Or yesterday. Why did everything get so jumbled and confusing in the middle of the night?
Kennedy gave the officer a brief rundown of her evening, starting with seeing Gino on the T.
“You were on that subway? We got word someone sabotaged it. Cut the power and set off a smoke bomb to get people freaked out.”
“That must have been Gino.” Even saying his name made Kennedy nauseated. Her arm throbbed. “Once we got off the T, I thought someone was following me.” She didn’t want to admit to the police how far she had run in the tunnel. If it really had been Gino, though, how was she still here? Wouldn’t he have attacked? Maybe she started running at just the right time. Any farther down the walkway, and ...
The officer frowned. “Why didn’t you call the police when you recognized him?”
“I didn’t know who he was. Not yet. But then I got back to my dorm, and my dad sent me the link from Channel 2 with his picture, and I recognized him then, and then my roommate did, too.”
He interrupted with questions every few sentences, but eventually the entire report came out, culminating with the car chase.
“And did you get a license plate number?” He frowned again, and Kennedy wondered if he thought her whole story was a farce. Could her mind have made something like this up? She glanced at the window shards on her lap, winced as the pain deep in her arm radiated throughout her entire right side. No, this was no PTSD episode.
“I saw the license plate.” She tried to recreate the image in her mind like a photograph. “I had it in my head, and then I tried calling, but you guys were busy ...”
She heard the accusatory tone in her own voice. Where had the police been when she needed them?
The officer pursed his lips together in what Kennedy guessed was some sort of approximation of a smile. “Well, if you’re ever in the same situation again, try shouting the number out loud.”
“What, so I don’t forget?” Kennedy couldn’t recall a single thought that had rushed through her brain after Gino shot through the window. How could she have remembered something as obscure as a license plate number?
“No, so we can pick it up. We were listening to you guys the entire time, you know.”
“You were?”
He nodded. “Our dispatch operator got on shortly after you called. At first we thought we had a hostage situation, thought you were being forced somewhere against your will and had managed to put out a call. Then we put enough pieces together to realize you were being chased, and they sent us out after you.”
“But how did you find where we were?”
“Ain’t too hard if the driver names you the cross streets and tells you exactly where he’s headed.”
Good old Carl. So had he known? Was that why he had been naming the streets?
A female officer came up to the window. Carl followed her, and Kennedy caught the gleam in his eye as a car approaching in the opposite lane lit up his face in its headlights.
“They found the vehicle and have the suspect in custody,” the officer told her partner.
Kennedy let out her breath. Everyone had something to say, even Carl, but Kennedy just sat, letting relief wash over her like water from a hot bath. The excited cacophony was interrupted by the siren of an ambulance speeding toward them.
“Good.” The policeman leaned down. “EMTs are here. They’ll get you fixed up just fine.”
- Writer
