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“It’s just my elbow. I smacked it when we hit that corrections van.”

“Say what?” Izan shook his head and said, “Actually, I’ll come around and you can get out. Tell me all about it then.” He scooped out the kid and carried him gently around to where the mom turned to put her feet on the ground. “Don’t get up if it hurts, okay? Move slowly.” He dragged the word out.

She nodded. “I can walk.”

That would help them, considering there were others here with more serious injuries.

“What’s your name?”

“Kathy, and that’s Elliot.”

“Hi, Elliot.” He shifted the child against him. “I’m Izan.” He held out one hand and helped Kathy stand, holding her steady while they walked toward the EMTs.

The cars on the opposite side had slowed to watch the chaos. Firefighters and EMTs all helping people get out. Treating the injured. This stretch of highway was surrounded by townhouses and apartments on both sides.

“What did you say about corrections?”

Amelia watched them approach.

Kathy said, “The van that flipped on its side at the front. It says Department of Corrections on the side. A bunch of guys in orange and a woman in black uniform jumped out and ran off the road, over the concrete divider. The two cops that showed up chased after them.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. “We have a prison break?”

Three

Olivia pumped her arms and legs, regulating her breathing. Pushing her normal workout run pace almost to her limit. If these criminals insisted on running more than six miles, she was going to have a problem. Junior, on the other hand, seemed to be just fine. Of course. Her partner chased the bad guys up ahead, running like he could go forever. Like he wasn’t even sweating.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed for her radio, calling in their location in the neighborhood—a complex of townhomes—requesting backup to their location.

Units were on the way, but she needed them here now if they wanted any chance of ending this without anyone getting hurt.

The four convicts and one corrections officer had fled the scene of the crash almost as soon as she and Junior had shown up.

Tires squealed.

She raced around the corner of the next street, and between two rows of garages that faced each other, a pickup truck raced away from them with at least two people inside. A prisoner and the guard? She wasn’t close enough to see. Two more men in orange jumpsuits continued to race down the street.

“Stop! Police!”

One of them, a gray-haired man, hesitated, turning slightly. As if he wanted to be caught. Did that make any sense? These were hardened criminals, by the look of them, but she really didn’t know if they were serving long or short sentences. They could’ve been sent to prison for any number of things.

Olivia lifted her gun slightly, holding it with both of her hands. “Stop, or I shoot!”

She wasn’t about to shoot anyone in the back, even if they were a convicted criminal. Especially not when they were unarmed. She just needed them to believe she might.

Junior closed in on the other man, who had focused back on his attempt to flee.

At the end of the street, a patrol car pulled in with lights flashing. Their K-9 unit. She relaxed a fraction.

The man Junior was chasing made a hard left and ran between two garages. A nondescript man except for the jumpsuit. Dark hair. Pale.

Her older guy did the same but took a right. She followed him down someone’s back walk. He stopped at the door to the house and kicked hard, beside the handle, but it didn’t open.

She closed in. “Hands up! Stay where you are!”

He turned to her.

Recognition flashed through her. She’d been part of the operation that had brought this guy in over a year ago. “Damien Wallace.”