Page 181 of Slack Tide Kill

Sally fumbled at the belt but her fingers didn't work properly. At last it clicked and she groaned as the pressure on her ribs came away. The whole world went white as lightning smashed down behind them.

"Liam," she croaked again, then got two fingers to his throat. He had a pulse, but ragged. "Wake up."

She shook him. "Come on. Wake up!"

He didn't, but another sound entered the emptiness. A door cracking open.

Not theirs.

She looked out the windshield but couldn't see anything, only the looming reactors. Liam was unconscious. There was no one else now. Only her.

She fought with his belt but couldn't unclasp it. Every second, Mercer was getting closer to setting off a bomb. She made the decision.

"I'm coming back," she muttered, took a deep breath, then kicked the passenger-side door. Agony burst in her hip and shoulder, but it didn't open.

The driver's side window still yawned open. She scrambled over Liam as best she could then slid through the window and sank deep into the flood.

The cold engulfed her body. Her hands pushed against its silty base, eyes burning, then she broke the surface and gasped. The world swirled, bright colors flashing across her vision, but she found her feet.

Mercer.

She pushed along the squad car, sewer mud sucking at her boots, then climbed back to the road. No sign of him, only tire marks in the shingle. She staggered up the slope, mounted the low peak and saw Mercer's van below, swallowed by the Gray Lady's waves. Water rose halfway up the bodywork and smoke poured from under the bonnet.

Sally stumbled down the slope to the passenger window. DCI Gloria Mayhew was inside still, slumped against the dash, blood running down the side of her face.

The driver's door hung open. Sally looked up, tracking the beach, the waves, the sweep of the sea until–

There! Jack Mercer was knee-deep in the waves, bent over with one hand clamped to his side, his coat flapping like a torn wing as he shambled toward the reactors.

"It's over, Jack!" Sally cried.

Mercer turned. His face was pale, his forehead bloody, his face barely discernible through the rain though she could just pick out his mouth, set in a wild grin.

"The river's never over, Sally!" he shouted back. "It flows through us forever." Then he staggered on into the crashing waves.

Sally turned back to Mayhew. The DCI's eyes were closed, her lip split, one cheek swelling already. Sally checked and found a pulse, but it was weak and shallow.

"DCI," she croaked. "Gloria?"

No answer came. A low breath, maybe. The tide was already up to her chest and freezing. If she didn't drown, hypothermia would take her soon. Sally tried to unclip the seatbelt but it was wedged tight. She tried again, pulling to get some slack.

Mayhew gasped and her eyes flicked open. They darted over Sally, the dash, the seatbelt.

"We crashed," Sally said. "I'm trying to get you out, but–"

"Where's Jack?" Mayhew rasped.

Sally looked out through the windshield. She could no longer see Mercer's silhouette through the storm.

"On foot. He's going for the reactor."

"He … killed my father."

Sally flinched. "Detective Stewart?"

Mayhew nodded jerkily. "Drugged … him. Framed the … suicide."

Sally pulled back. Everything Mercer had said about DCI Stewart crashed through her. That he'd been like a father to him. That they were friends. That he'd taken him under his wing, even covered for him.