Brody zipped up the winter jacket one of the patrol cops loaned him. Vehicles crowded the yard. Flashlight beams crisscrossed the ground. Every available body had been called in to search for Chet.

Hannah strode next to him. Mac was teamed up with Stella. His knowledge of the yard’s layout had proven useful. But two hours into the search of the rail yard, Chet hadn’t been found.

“Over here,” someone yelled. Brody picked up the pace. A black Dodge Charger was parked behind a rusted engine. A cop shone his light inside the vehicle. “Nothing.”

He opened the vehicle door and popped the trunk. Brody surged forward and peered inside. A hand protruded from under a tarp. No!

With a silent prayer, he reached down and moved the tarp. Please let him be alive. But it wasn’t Chet. The face was slender, young, and badly beaten. Shock paralyzed Brody for a second. “It’s a woman.”

Brody leaned in and pressed two fingers to her throat. A weak pulse tapped against his fingertips. “She’s alive.”

He tugged off his jacket and draped it over her. Her eyes opened, white-rimmed with fear.

“It’s all right. You’re safe. We’re the police.”

A tear ran from her eye.

An ambulance was already on-site, waiting. EMTs rushed in. Brody backed off and returned to the search. Hannah took his hand. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I’m all right.”

“You don’t look all right. You look terrible.” She took his hand. His devotion to his friend only deepened her feelings for him. Brody was the kind of man she’d been waiting for her whole life. However long he wanted to keep searching, she’d be here with him. “But let’s keep looking.”

“Found him!” A shout floated over the yard.

Brody’s breath fogged in front of him as he turned toward the voice.

“He’s alive!”

They jogged toward the commotion in front of a freight car. A patrol cop handed Brody up. Chet was on his back, three navy-blue SFPD jackets draped across his body.

“Chet?” Brody knelt.

“He’s breathing, Brody,” a cop said over his shoulder.

Barely.

Within minutes, the EMTs were in the car, starting an IV, draping Chet with blankets. One of Chet’s eyes opened. His fingers made a small motion, gesturing Brody closer.

He leaned over, putting his ear close to his friend’s mouth.

“There was an e-mail,” Chet rasped. “About Teresa. Follow up. Please. I don’t care what she wants. Promise. If I die, you’ll find her.”

“Done.” Brody squeezed his arm and backed away, giving the rescue crew room to work. The EMTs’ movements were urgent. Had they found him in time?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five