Bolini reached the bridge and started the long slog up the incline. Finally he had to move all the way to the right because of the heat of the burning hulk of the tanker. The cement guardrail was flashed with a brown, burnt color. They looked down at the water for any sign of their partner.
Jimmy hopped onto the rail at the spot they’d last seen Tasker, then leaped down into the water before Bolini could protest. It looked like a long way to Bolini, but Jimmy hit the water with a splash and was immediately up and thrashing around.
Bolini leaned over the side, anxiously looking over. “See anything?” he shouted.
Jimmy was too intent on the search and too far away to respond.
Bolini started to pray again. “Help us out-please, God.”
At that moment, Jimmy broke the surface with Tasker, unconscious in his arms. Jimmy flipped his head so he was face up, cupped an arm across his chest and started for the seawall nearest him.
Bolini raced down the bridge faster than he realized he could run, and jumped to the embankment under the base. He half-ran, half-tumbled to the edge of the water, then scurried around the small bay on the seawall to meet Jimmy Lail.
“Here,” gasped Jimmy, holding Tasker’s motionless body up from the water. Bolini grabbed his shoulders and tugged. With effort they had him up onto the grass, and Jimmy pulled himself up.
Tasker had the cuts and bruises from earlier, and now his hair was singed. His left eye had swollen shut.
Bolini said, “You know CPR?”
Jimmy laid Tasker out completely flat, and as he was tilting his head back, Tasker coughed and water sprang up out of his mouth like an oil well.
Tasker coughed again and gasped, “Anyone hurt?”
Bolini let out a laugh. “No, I don’t think so.”
“What about the truck on the bridge?”
Bolini paused, then stood, looking up past the burning tanker. “He’s stopped right at the crest.” He kneeled back down to Tasker. “You did good. With both bombs. Maybe you should be a bomb tech.”
Tasker coughed and let out a slight smile, “No, thanks.” He sat up. “Where’s Wells?”
“We got him. Sutter is sitting on him.”
Jimmy Lail chuckled. “Literally.”
“Get me to them,” said Tasker, slowly standing to his feet.
Tasker didn’t intend to argue when the first paramedics arrived and told him he had to go to the hospital. He walked slowly, with Jimmy and Bolini on either side of him. They cut through the crowd and saw Sutter still sitting across Wells’ legs.
Sutter’s face brightened as he saw the three men slowly come toward him. “Praise Jesus,” smiled Sutter. He stood and, to Tasker’s surprise, hugged him. Tasker used his remaining functioning arm to return the gesture.
On the ground, face down, with his hands cuffed, Wells said, “Hey, this is uncomfortable.”
Jimmy Lail, in his Texas drawl, said, “You’re about to be as uncomfortable as a June bug in a fishing tournament if you don’t shut up.”
All three men stared at him.
From across the street, Camy Parks cut through the crowd and ran toward them. Jimmy turned to face her and held out his arms. She ran past him to Sutter and kissed him hard on the lips.
Tasker settled back as he heard a host of sirens approaching from every direction. Then he laid back on the ground, shut his eyes and took the deepest breath of his life with his sore lungs.
Jimmy Lail’s face flushed red every time he looked over at Sutter being treated by the paramedics, with Camy sitting next to him like a puppy. He’d just risked his life to save the city and she ran to that jerk. He tried not to glare but knew he wasn’t concealing it well.
Sitting next to him, Wells, with his hands cuffed behind his back, said, “Women, they can be a pain in the butt.” He nodded and smiled.
Jimmy looked at him and said, “If you open that redneck hole in your face again, you’ll wish you were on that tanker.” He nodded toward the still-burning hulk on the bridge; firemen were spraying it with a white foam.
Wells just shrugged.
Jimmy looked back at his former girlfriend and took a deep breath. He was a young, good-looking guy with a great job. What chick wouldn’t want to hook up with him? He was just killing time with her anyway. He felt a little better until he saw Camy kiss Sutter on the lips again as the paramedics started to take him away.
Jimmy stared at them and said out loud, “I don’t want to hear anything from you. You’re in enough trouble.” He turned to make sure his message had gotten through, but there was no one there.
Jimmy twisted his head in every direction, looking for the missing Wells, or Bolini for help. The crowd was milling all around, and Jimmy couldn’t see any sign of the handcuffed man.
“Oh shit!” He started to run through the crowd.
thirty-six
A week later, Bill Tasker sat on his patio, Derrick Sutter in the lounger next to him. A week of rest had helped him recover only a little. He still wasn’t supposed to drink beer because of the antibiotics and painkillers he was using, but he decided one Icehouse with his partner wouldn’t kill him. Even though he had seen a lot of corpses that looked better than he did right now. He had thirty stitches in different cuts in his legs. Fifteen on his arms. Ten in one gash along his hairline. One wrist was broken, which he hadn’t even realized at the time. Both legs had torn muscles, and his right ankle was sprained. He’d had to have a buzz cut to remove his burnt hair and allow the doctors to examine his head properly, and he had a couple of decent burns on his face and shoulder.
Sutter, on the other hand, had a bandage on his foot near his ankle and a pair of crutches. Dressed in a sharp pair of pants and button-down Oxford shirt, he was casually telling Tasker about his passionate affair with the lovely Camy Parks.
“I’m telling you, Billy, sometimes she’s like a wild animal, and sometimes she really is a princess.”
Tasker held up his hand. “I get the idea.” He looked toward the sliding glass door. “My girls are inside.”
Sutter shrugged. “Sorry.”
Tasker asked, “How long you gonna be out of work?”
“They say I can be back at light duty next week. What about you?”
“Won’t say. Need to be evaluated Friday. I figure two weeks.”
Sutter smiled. “Why? Take some time. Two weeks ain’t shit. You need a couple months, all you been through.”
“How’s Jimmy Lail doing?”
“Camy says he’s obsessed with finding Wells. She says he’s on surveillance every day, looking for him.” Sutter started to laugh. “You heard he had his car stolen, too?”
“Really. The Honda? Where?”
“Off Biscayne. The day we chased Wells. With everything else going on, no one made a big deal about it.” He looked back at Tasker. “Camy says he doesn’t care about the car, or anything but Wells.”
Tasker nodded. “I know the feeling.”
“But he’s got help. Now the FBI knows what one of their snitches tried to do. They’ve got everyone out beating the bushes. Lot of local cops, too. But the FBI is definitely leading the charge.”
“The name Eric Rudolph mean anything to you?”
Sutter smiled and nodded.
Tasker thought about the similarity between the Atlanta Olympics bomber and Wells. Both had gotten away with it for a while. Rudolph had evaded a massive FBI hunt for five years, until some local cop found him digging in a dumpster. Tasker decided he wouldn’t hold his breath until Wells was captured.
Sutter tapped a Miami Herald on the table between them. “You okay with this bullshit?”
Tasker smiled, looking at the headline: FBI AVERTS DISASTER. “Yeah, it’s true. Bolini came through.”