Page 248 of Whisper
Water poured in through shattered windows. He saw the outline of an airbag.
Saw Dawood’s still body deflate against the airbag, slump sideways in the driver’s seat as the SUV began to sink.
Not this time. He wasn’t losing his husband. Not again.
Kris peered over the edge of the bridge, over the broken concrete and shattered rails Dawood had driven through. It was a thirty-foot drop, give or take a few feet.
He didn’t think. He didn’t question. He shoved his gun in his trench coat pocket and ran.
People screamed as he jumped, pointed his feet and plugged his nose and closed his eyes.
He hit the river like an arrow, like he was being stabbed everywhere in his body, like his soul had just been punched out of his chest. Disoriented, he flailed, first sinking before kicking up, swimming his way to the surface. As he broke the water, gasping, he heard someone shriek, up on the bridge, “There he is!”
Dawood’s SUV was sinking, and he was too far away. Dawood was still inside, still not moving. Blood smeared across his face, marred the side of his head.
No, not you. Not you. Not like this.
He kicked, swimming harder than he ever had in his life, racing the sinking SUV and all of time, watching as the water rose, creeping over Dawood’s chest, up his neck. Closed around his lips, and then his nose.
He screamed as the water covered Dawood’s head, and the Blazer gurgled, slipping beneath the Potomac’s muddy waters.
He took a deep breath and dove with the sinking Blazer, pushing through the water. Just a few more feet, just a few more. Dawood was still limp in the SUV, floating like a mannequin in the driver’s seat. Blood haloed him, a river of it dyeing the waters red, staining the Potomac. Beyond Dawood, Noam’s limp body slumped against the passenger door, his face mangled by the airbag, body bloodied and hovering lifeless in the cabin.
Finally, Kris gripped the broken glass of the driver’s window. He reached in, yanked on the door handle, practically ripped the door off.
Handcuffs glinted in the river’s fading light, catching a sunbeam from above. Kris’s stomach clenched.
Noam had cuffed Dawood’s right hand to the steering wheel. When the airbag deployed, it had shattered his cuffed wrist, his arm, his elbow. Dawood’s right arm seemed to have four extra joints.
And Kris couldn’t get him out of the Blazer. Not until those cuffs were off.
He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out his gun.
He’d get one shot at this. The back blast in the water would break their ribs, if they were lucky, and probably break another bone in Dawood’s arm. But he could live with that, if it got them out of there.
Kris lined up the barrel of his gun against the chain of Dawood’s handcuffs.
His lungs burned, and his brain started to panic, started to demand more oxygen.
Time to go.
Kris pulled the trigger.
Back blast from the shot created a shockwave in the water, spreading out and behind the gun, catching Kris in the chest. He tried to absorb the full impact, tried to take the hammer that had just been thrown through the water into his ribs completely, sparing Dawood. He screamed underwater, curled forward. Almost breathed in, reflexively.
The bullet had shattered the chain, burying itself in the SUV’s dashboard.
Dawood was free.
Kris grabbed him andpulled,pushed off the sinking Blazer with both his feet. Dawood was deadweight, motionless, completely still. Blood floated in front of Kris’s eyes as he tried to push for the surface.
Burning, burning, his lungs were screaming, collapsing. If he just opened his mouth. If he just breathed, just a little bit. But there was no air, not here. His brain was trying to trick him.
He had to hold on, just a little longer.
Darkness haloed his vision, the water, the surface going blurry. No, no. Just a little longer.
They broke the surface together, erupting into a world of light and sirens, of people screaming, shouting from the bridge. “There! There! There they are!”
