The sirens were so close now, they rang in her ears. Lisa stood, numb, above the prone figure of Jackson Rippner. The man who'd nearly ruined her life.
But it was over now. Her father was safe. The Keefes were safe...
"Lisa?"
Her father behind her, concerned.
And yet, she couldn't tear her gaze away from the body on the floor. Was he dead? Did she even care?
Oh good. The police were here. The paramedics were here. Was it normal to send every emergency squad for a 911 intruder call? Oh, well... No fire trucks... She didn't care. She ached. Her father was probably hurting, too. She had to talk to the police. She had to tell them everything. The plane, the chase, the phone calls, the Keefes...
It was over.
She had to get to the hotel. She had to make sure everything was okay there. Oh, there were going to be mountains of paperwork... The car she stole, the man she hit...
"Miss, we need you to get checked out by paramedics outside, and then we need to get statements from you and... your father?" It was a question, and Lisa nodded.
"Yes, he's my dad." God, she sounded like a little kid even to her own ears.
Two of the paramedics were loading Jackson onto a stretcher. She would never have to see him again. Never have to endure the stare of those haunting eyes... Thank god.
It was over.
Lisa and Joe Reisert stumbled outside to find the ambulance. He kept waving them away, assuring them he felt fine; it was her he was worried about. Lisa smiled wearily and let them check her head, her eyes - no, she didn't feel sleepy. No concussion here. No, nothing broken. She could walk, talk... More than could be said for Jackson.
She watched as they loaded his unconscious form onto the ambulance. She caught one last glimpse of his dark hair - she'd thought he looked like a Beatle when he first spoke to her in the check-in line - a flutter of the burgundy scarf... And then the driver shut the bay doors and turned to flash Lisa a reassuring smile as he headed for the cab of the boxy vehicle.
It was over.