Page 189 of The Advocate’s Ultimatum

Rourke took a fast step toward the patio.

DuBois shouted, “Police! Don’t move!”

At the exact same moment, Hannah cried out, “He killed Todd!”

Just then, Rourke spun and bolted toward the boardwalk crowd. JP went after him. DuBois vaulted the patio gate while Urban cut toward the beach access stairs. People screamed and scattered across the sidewalk.

Rourke hit the boardwalk at full speed, shoving past tourists and nearly knocking over a cyclist. JP closed hard behind him.

Rourke cut sharply through a narrow alley between souvenir shops. JP followed, closing the distance.

Ahead, Rourke glanced back. Big mistake. JP launched forward and body-slammed him hard into a chain-link fence beside a dumpster. Both men crashed to the pavement.

Rourke drove an elbow backward into JP’s ribs and twisted free enough to scramble halfway upright. JP grabbed the back of his jacket and dragged him down again.

“Done running?” JP growled.

Rourke slammed backward into him violently. “You don’t understand!” he shouted.

JP drove him face-first into the concrete. “Yeah,” JP snapped. “I do. Truth’s like a hound dog, son. It might take a while, but it’ll find you.”

Footsteps thundered into the alley. DuBois arrived first with Urban right behind him.

“Hands!”

Rourke stopped fighting. Not because of the guns, but because somewhere behind them Hannah screamed, “Don’t hurt him!”

Rourke turned his head toward the sound of her voice while DuBois locked cuffs onto his wrists.

JP gave him a not-so-gentle kick. “That’s for threatening my girlfriend.”

Chapter 73

Thursday afternoon

Hannah sat wrapped in a sheriff’s blanket on the back bumper of an ambulance while paramedics tried unsuccessfully to convince her to let them examine her.

“I’m fine,” she said for the third time.

Sabre stood several feet away beside JP, while flashing lights painted the Pacific Beach sidewalk red and blue. The crowd had mostly dispersed now.

In the alley entrance Rourke sat handcuffed in the back of a patrol unit.

Hannah had not looked in his direction once. For her, not looking meant trying not to care.

JP shifted, making a groaning sound, one hand pressed against his ribs where Rourke had caught him with the elbow.

“You need urgent care.”

“I need coffee.”

“Broken ribs aren’t fixed by coffee,” Sabre chided.

JP looked mildly offended by the suggestion. Sabre almost smiled, despite everything.

A paramedic approached Hannah again. “Miss Caldwell, we really should—”

“I said no.”