Page 99 of Slack Tide Kill

Sally kept moving.

"Come on, don't be like that. You're the story now. You must know that."

The words hit harder than Sally wanted. She turned down a narrow lane, past darkened windows full of ceramics and handmade candles. Brown followed.

"You rammed a civilian vehicle into a boat, Sally," Brown reasoned. "Three suspects injured, one severely, and now you're wandering pubs in the rain. That's a story."

Sally stopped and turned. Brown stopped too.

"Turn that off."

"Public street."

"Turn it off."

Brown smiled. "This isn't Louisiana, Sally. We're not the Wild West. You don't get to ride into town, fire off the siren, smash up half the marsh and call it justice."

Anger flickered through Sally, cold and clean. Ever since this thing had begun with the podcasts, vultures like Brown had been trying to make money off the back of misery and pain, and it made her sick.

"People like you don't care about justice."

"I care about what sells." Brown tilted the phone slightly, framing her. "I care about what the public have a right to know. And right now, you're both. The American supercop. The survivor. The woman who dug herself out of a pit. Only now people are starting to wonder whether you're saving the case or imploding it."

Sally took one step toward her.

"That's it," Brown murmured. "There she is."

Sally saw the trick. Brown didn't really expect answers now. She wanted movement. A flinch. A shove. A hand across the lens. Sally Rogers losing control of the animal within.

"So keep filming," Sally said softly.

"I intend to."

"Film yourself feeding on dead women and frightened locals. Film yourself dressing up gossip as an investigation, when you haven't got the spine to really look into the dark."

"I'm looking into the darkness right now. We'd all be better off if you'd stayed buried on Dark Peak."

Sally moved without thinking.

One moment Brown was two yards away; the next Sally had crossed the space, hand flashing for the phone. Brown jerked back, heel skidding on wet stone. Sally's fingers brushed the case but failed to grip it. Pain tore through her shoulder, bright and immediate. For half a second she was overextended, weight wrong, body betraying her.

Brown stumbled into a shuttered shopfront hard enough to rattle the glass. Sally caught herself on the wall.

The phone was still up.

Brown stared at her, eyes wide now, fear and triumph braided together. "God damn it. You really are off the leash!"

Sally's pulse hammered in her throat. She could have taken the phone a day ago. Before the marsh, the crash, the water. Now her whole body felt like a weapon fired too many times.

"That's the clip," Brown said quietly. "That's all I needed."

Sally straightened. Her shoulder burned. Her ribs throbbed. Rain ran cold down the side of her face.

"Then use it all," she said. "Don't cut the part where you followed an injured officer through the rain trying to make her snap. Don't cut the part where you smiled when it worked."

For a second neither of them moved. Then Brown laughed. "You think that saves you?"

"No." Sally started walking away. She knew it didn't. It could damn her completely, and part of her didn't care. "It just means we both know what you are."