Page 29 of Art of the Hunt
He was apparently not nearly as in shape as he liked to believe.
She stood over him, not breathing heavily, and looking adorable with her sopping wet dress clinging to her curves, her silver hair hanging in drenched strands around her face.
“Maybe you really are a god,” he said, struggling to his feet. “Because I can’t come up with any other reason you wouldn’t be out of breath after that experience. And by the way, what the fuck?”
She pointed at the bridge. “That van was heading right for us at a high rate of speed.”
He looked up sharply and narrowed his eyes. Yes, there was definitely a van up there that looked like it had hopped the curb. But still— “Why do you think it was coming for us? We were surrounded by other people.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It was a weird feeling I had. But Iknewit.”
“Okay, okay.” He may not believe in Greek gods, but cops lived and died by their intuition. “Let’s go check out the scene.”
They slopped their way up the stairs to street level, and curiously, and appreciatively, they were both no more than damp by the time they joined the crowd of onlookers standing around a dark green van with tinted windows that was propped up onto the sidewalk by its front right wheel. There wasn’t anyone inside.
“Where’s the driver?” he asked the nearest gawker.
“No idea. He bolted as soon as he realized he was stuck.”
Sounded like this guy had been here when the accident happened.
“Did you see it?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah. It was crazy. This van just started accelerating, like it was trying to mow down pedestrians. Like the driver played too many video games or something, y’know?” The guy finally glanced at Hunter.
“Holy shit,” the witness said, “you and that chick jumped into the river to avoid getting hit.”
“Yeah.” Hunter dragged his hand through his not-quite-dry hair. “A gut reaction, I guess.”
“I would’ve too if I’d been in your position. From my vantage point, it looked like that van was aiming right for you.”
Shit. Was Artemis right? He glanced to his left, but she wasn’t there. Where the hell—?
He spotted her over by the van, talking to the officers who were now on scene. Grimacing, Hunter shoved his way through the crowd to get over there before she said something he would probably regret.
“Witnesses say the guy took off on foot, heading that way.” The cop nearest to her pointed across the bridge.
“So it was a man?” Artemis asked.
The officer glanced at the pad of paper in his hand. “Yep.”
“What did he look like?”
“White guy. Short brown hair under a baseball cap. Wearing a T-shirt and shorts. Sunglasses. Average height, average weight.”
“That’s not particularly helpful,” Artemis scoffed, and Hunter wanted to say, “Welcome to my world.”
But why was the cop answering her questions as if he were a witness and she was an investigating officer?
“I’d like to have a look inside the van,” Artemis said.
The cop waved. “Go ahead.”
“Wait, what?” Hunter stepped up next to him. “She’ll compromise the scene.”
“No, I won’t,” she said, then she opened the side door and stepped into the vehicle.
Hunter hurried after her. “How the hell did you convince a cop to let you in here?”
