“That’s the trigger. She was fine, and then she wasn’t. As in, there was hope that she would pull through, but then she died. What do you want to bet she died when we’ve got the first one going through this cycle?”
“Wait, but he’s been on this kick for years online.”
“Yes, he’s been on the chats for years, and he was really positive, remember? And then it turned not so positive.”
“So you’re saying that he soured.”
“He soured, and then he ended up turning into this version of himself, dealing with his own grief, his own problems, and probably feeling like nothing was worth it. And that absolutely everything would go wrong. But instead of going alone and taking his own life, he would make sure that he took the others with him.”
“So you think that he is suicidal now?” He swore. “Nothing from Simon?”
“No,” she snapped. “I’ll try him again.”
As he drove down toward the bridge, Rodney said, “You know that we could be heading to the wrong bridge.”
“I know,” she said. “I know. I know. I know. I can only tell you what I feel.”
He looked at her, raising his eyebrows.
She shrugged. “Don’t even start with me.”
“Hey, maybe some of Simon’s sixth sense is rubbing off on you. We could have the best damn department in the place.”
“Too often it’s likely to be the wrong path, or the timing would be all wrong—or the interpretation,” she snapped.
“I forgot how negative you were,” he said, with the chuckle.
“How could you?” she said. “It’s still me.”
“Well, there’s that.”
She tried Simon again and let it just ring. Mentally she sent out a message.Dear God, please don’t. Don’t be heading back down there.
But, in her heart of hearts, she knew that’s exactly where he was. She looked over at Rodney. “Drive,” she said. “Drive as if a life depends on it because, in this case, I’m pretty sure it does.”
*
Simon stared forthe tenth time at the phone, knowing it would be Kate. But he didn’t dare stop, he was already on his way back down to Lions Gate Bridge, his heart slamming against his chest and his feet moving on their own accord. He had called Mali several times, but she wasn’t answering. He kept sending her texts, as he raced toward the bridge.
Stay home, Mali.
Please, just stay home.
Don’t do this.
But he knew that she was out there, that she was running for the bridge. And, dear God, this time it would be bad. When he finally couldn’t stand it anymore, he phoned Kate. “She’s back at the bridge,” he said in a rush. “I’m almost there.”
“So are we,” she said, “because the guy we were after, he’s not home.”
“You think he’s down there too?” he said in alarm. “Oh, God. I wouldn’t be at all surprised. This is crunch time. I don’t know where he’s hiding or what he’s done in order to get her there. But chances are, he’s got some final push, and it’ll be happening right now.”
“We have to stop this guy before he goes underground or jumps himself. Both his brother and mother committed suicide.”
“No argument there,” he said. “And that could trigger anyone.”
“Have you got any connection to her at all?”
“Nothing more than my feet racing in that direction,” he said in a dry tone. “I feel terrible about this. I thought she was safe.”