A muscle worked in Brad’s jaw. “She’s a good swimmer, Jake. She’ll make it.”
Was he trying to convince himself, too? Jake looked out the window into the darkness. He hoped his friend was right.
“Biggin Hill PD to 37 C-1,” came over the radio on the dashboard.
Brad yanked the mike to him and keyed it. “Go ahead PD.”
“I just sent the squad on a call for an unconscious female and they asked me to relay the information to you. It’s Chelsea.”
Brad’s eyebrows went up. “Go ahead, PD.”
“The address is 120 Sycamore Lane.”
“Thanks, PD,” Brad said and he looked at Jake. “That’s Tim’s house.”
Brad pushed harder on the accelerator. Jake crossed his fingers. Could he hope? Could it be Chelsea?
Brad parked in front of the ambulance and Jake jumped out before he stopped. He ran to where two squad members had just put a woman on the stretcher. Flashing lights provided the only illumination and he couldn’t tell it was her until they went past him.