Page 21 of Girl Lost
“Stay put. This is police business.”
“I didn’t chase him this far to watch from the sidelines.” Luna launched herself at the railing.
“Luna, wait!”
She sailed through the air, the metal railing a blur. Her fingers grabbed the rusty steel. She swung her legs over, landing on the walkway with a jolt that sent a searing pain through her burned ankle.
Corbin landed on the walkway and pivoted to face her. “You shouldn’t be here. You’re injured.”
“I’m fine. And I’m not staying here.” She unsnapped her holster. “Let’s go.”
His gaze met hers. A flicker of ... what? Respect? Admiration? “Just ... try not to get yourself killed,” he said.
She followed, her leg throbbing with each step. He drew his sidearm and approached the darkened doorway.
“Stay close,” he said.
She didn’t argue. Her hand brushed against his arm as they moved through the shadows.
They reached the doorway of room 12.
The door stood ajar, a sliver of darkness beyond. The sound of a woman’s screams, high-pitched and frantic, spilled out onto the walkway.
Corbin didn’t hesitate. He pushed the door open.
A woman, young, her blond hair a tangled mess, cowered in the corner of the room, her hands covering her face. Abercorn scrambled across the room, his back to them, flinging open the sliding glass doors that led to a small balcony. He was already climbing over the railing, his lean body silhouetted against the bright afternoon sky.
“Go around!” Luna shouted, pointing toward the metal staircase at the end of the walkway.
Corbin didn’t need to be told twice. He sprinted outside. She heard him crashing down the stairs, the clang of metal echoing through the courtyard.
The air inside the motel was stale, thick with the smell of mildew and cigarette smoke. The sound of a television, a muffled drone, drifted from one of the rooms.
Abercorn was halfway down the balcony railing now, legs dangling, desperation etched on his face. He hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the drop.
“Don’t do it, Charles.”
He let go. Abercorn hit the sandy ground with a thud, rolled, and scrambled to his feet.
She went over the railing. Didn’t climb down. Jumped. The landing sent fire through her ankle, but she lunged at Abercorn anyway, tackling him to the ground.
“What the ... hey! I didn’t do nothing!” He twisted beneath her.
“Oh yeah? Then why’d you run?” She grabbed a wrist and wrenched it behind his back.
His free elbow jabbed her ribs. Pain shot through her chest, and she lost her grip. He rolled away, scooped up a handful of sand, and flung it at her face.
Sand stung her eyes, scratching at her corneas. Blinking hard, she tried to clear her vision. Through the blur, she saw him scrambling between two parked cars, his skinny frame disappearing into the maze of metal.
She wasn’t giving up. She sprinted toward a rusty pickup truck, scrambled onto the hood, and used it as a springboard to launch herself into the air.
She landed on Abercorn’s back, driving him face-first into the asphalt. He used her momentum against her, rolling them both until he was on top, her arms trapped beneath his weight.
“Got him!” Corbin’s strong hands closed around Abercorn and yanked him to his feet.
For a moment she lay there, chest heaving, sand stinging her eyes. She wiped the grit from her face.
Corbin pulled Abercorn’s arms behind his back and clicked thecuffs shut on his wrists. He patted Abercorn down. A brisk, efficient search for hidden weapons.
