here.â
Knowing that even gravely injured he could still pose a deadly threat, Joanna approached the wreckage cautiously. Then, much to her relief, she spotted the ARâ15 on the ground nearby. It had been thrown clear when the tumbling vehicle came to rest. Having the rifle out of play was a huge relief, and it went a long way toward evening the playing field. Still, she worried that the rifle might not be the only weapon involved.
âOh, God. It hurts. It hurts so bad, and Iâm bleeding. Help me.â
With the Glock still in hand, Joanna approached the cab from the rear driverâs side. âSir,â she said. âDo you have a weapon?â
âWhoâs there?â he asked. âCan you help me? I need help.â
âDo you have a weapon?â
âNo. Iâm hurtâÂhurt real bad.â
Joanna edged forward far enough to peer around the door frame. The overturned truckâs sole occupant, trapped by his seat belt, hung upside down inside the vehicle, bleeding profusely. Realizing he was too badly hurt to pose any threat, Joanna immediately holstered her weapon. Then she reached inside and attempted to release the seat belt. It didnât work. The weight of his body on the belt somehow kept the release from responding. Her hand came away bloodied.
It was a shock to realize that the sticky red stuff came from the man who had killed her mother. But Joanna Brady had sworn to serve and protect, even if the person she was protecting didnât deserve it.
âYouâve got to get me out of here,â he pleaded. âIt hurts so much. I canât breathe. Please help me.â
âSteady now,â she said. âWeâre here to help.â
The sound of falling pebbles behind her told Joanna that someone else had come scuttling down the embankment. âCan I help?â Ali asked.
âI need a sharp knife,â Joanna told her.
âRight back,â Ali said, disappearing the way she had come.
Unable to free the kid, Joanna turned her attention to his wound. Most of the blood seemed to be coming from a deep gash in his lower calf. Shrugging out of her T-Âshirt, she peeled off her bra and used it as a makeshift tourniquet around his leg.
âAm I going to die?â the kid sobbed hysterically. âI think I am going to die. I want my mom. Whereâs my mom? I need her.â
How could a cold-Âblooded killer sound so much like a little lost boy?
âYou need to be quiet, Scott,â Joanna said. âSave your strength. Youâve lost a lot of blood.â
His eyes focused on her face. âDo I know you? How do you know my name? Is my mom coming? Have you called her?â
Ali came skidding back down the embankment and tapped Joanna on the back. âThe RV guy had a seat belt scissors in his tool box,â she said handing the implement over to Joanna. âI didnât know there was any such thing. And the ambulance is on its way, coming from Black Canyon City. I donât know how long it will take.â
With the powerful little scissors in hand, Joanna eyed the problem. âWhen I cut him loose, heâs going to drop like a rock and may end up getting hurt worse than he already is. Can you crawl in through the other side and help break his fall? Then weâll try to lift him out onto the ground.â
âWill do.â
Joanna put her face in front of the boyâs. His eyes were closed. She was afraid they were losing him.
âScott,â she pleaded. âStay with me. Can you hear me?â
His eyes blinked open. They were out of focus. He looked around in momentary confusion. âWhere am I?â
Joanna worried that if heâd suffered some kind of spinal damage, the very act of freeing him might make things worse.
âListen to me,â Joanna ordered. âWeâre about to cut you loose now. Can you move your feet?â He did. âYour arms?â He did that,