Amber Morn (23 page)

Radt-dadt-dadt-dadt-dadt-dadt…

Her mind exploded. Somebody was shooting. Kent was
shooting
.

Help me, God, he’s coming after me.

The man beside her yanked her onto the street. A big gray vehicle loomed in front of them. They ran around it. Ali saw Brittany and the first man, and there was a van, and he was pushing Brittany inside, and the man with Ali pulled her toward it, and then he was forcing her head down, pushing her inside the second row of seats too, and the man shut the door then climbed in front, and some other man behind the wheel smacked the car in gear and squealed down the street and careened left around the corner.

The force sent Ali slumping toward the door. Brittany fell into her. Ali twisted around and grabbed on to her, and then Brittany was crying and Ali was crying and the men were saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Ali couldn’t thank them. She couldn’t even talk. She just clung to Brittany and bawled.

FIFTY-FIVE

Vince clenched his teeth when he saw Ali fall, and Larry groaned. A CRT member jumped to the curb and helped her up. Pulled her away. At that instant Kent ran out onto the sidewalk, weapon aimed up the street.

Vince froze. Justin gasped.

“He’s got a gun!” a voice surged over the radio.

Wicksell started shooting.

Vince’s eyes jumped back to Ali and the CRT guy. They’d just passed the corner of the building.
Just
. A second earlier, Ali would have been hit.

“Hold fire!” Commander Jack Little’s voice.

Vince clutched the phone in his left hand, radio in his right.
No, Wicksell, don’t pursue —

Kent darted back into Java Joint and slammed the door. “Gunman is back in the building,” Jack clipped.

Still, Vince held his breath. He focused on the running girls, one CRT member pulling them to the van, the other darting backward, gun aimed toward Main should Wicksell reappear.

Go, Brittany and Ali. Go!

The Java Joint door remained closed. Wicksell’s TV sat on the table by the curb.

The girls and CRT members ran around the APC. Reached the waiting van. Clambered into the side door. A CRT member slammed their door and jumped into the front passenger seat.

“Targets in vehicle.” The breathless report came from the radio.

The van took off.

A long exhale seeped from Vince.

“Whoa.” Larry dragged a hand down his face.

“All clear.” Relief coated Jack’s voice. “Whoo, that was close. Good work, men.”

It took a few seconds for Vince’s heart to start beating again. He found his fingers cramped from squeezing the phone. Unwinding them, he put the receiver down and spoke into the radio. “Jack, Vince here.” He envisioned Jack at the monitors in his command post, eyes darting from Wicksell to Brittany and Ali. The split-second decision he’d had to make. “Good call, holding fire. Although for a second there you had me worried.”

Jack knew what Vince did. The only thing worse than Wick-sell back in Java Joint all riled up was a dead Wicksell on the street, leaving Mitch and Brad with a whole new vengeance to take out on the hostages.

“Only because he stayed where he was, and I saw our people were out of range. If he’d have taken two steps up that street, he’d be a dead man.”

Vince rubbed a hand across his forehead. On the monitor he could see the CRT van heading toward the station. “I see your vehicle’s on its way. Thanks for your work.”

“What we’re here for.”

Vince started to set down the radio and took a deep breath. Looked to Justin with a questioning expression —
Heard anything on the phone?
Justin shook his head.

If he had the time, Vince would lean over his knees and fill his lungs with oxygen. Send up a prayer of thanks for the girls’ safety. Instead, he turned down the radio volume and picked up the phone. “Kent? Can you hear me?”

No answer. Just background noise. Kent yelling.

“Kent. Talk to me.”

Vince counted two seconds.

“Kent!”

No answer.

Vince imagined the man, furious, gun in his twitchy fingers, stalking the café.

“Kent, can you come to the phone?”

A noise behind his back, startling him. Vince jerked around.

Dr. Hughes stood before her chair by the wall, chalk-faced, a hand to her heart. She’d obviously watched the whole thing on the video from across the room. Vince had been so focused, he’d forgotten she was there.

She dropped her hand to her side. “Sorry. I just…”

Vince muffled the receiver against his chest. “You all right?”

She swallowed and nodded. “You sound so calm. How do you do it?”

Calm?

Sounds filtered from the rear of the station. The door opening, footsteps, voices. Larry darted out to investigate.

“They’re here.” Relief flushed through Vince. “Go on and get started. I’ll be there when I can.”

Dr. Hughes leaned over to pick up her bag. For a moment Vince saw the mirror image of himself as the worry lines on her face disappeared, replaced with the placid confidence of a professional. She hurried toward the office door.

Vince raised the phone. “Kent? Kent.”

No answer.

He heard the girls’ crying, the doctor’s voice greeting them. Roger’s voice. Vince stood up, torn. Should he stay on the line and try to reach Kent, or start the girls’ debriefing so they could get to their anxious parents as soon as possible?

He set down the phone, threw a look at Justin. “Keep listening and call me if he comes back on. I need to go talk to the girls.”

Vince swiveled and hurried from the office.

FIFTY-SIX

The cries rose the second Kent Wicksell started shooting.

Terror sliced through Bailey at the sound of the gunshots. She and every other woman in Java Joint screamed. Bailey’s hands flew to her mouth, tears leaping to her eyes.
Ali and Brittany! Did he shoot the girls?

Carla shoved to her feet. “Brittaneeee!”

Brad jumped forward, thrust his gun in her face. “Get
down
!”

Carla swayed, both arms waving, her face bleached white. “No, Brit —”

“Sit down or I’ll cut you in half!” Brad shoved the barrel against her chest.

Carla stumbled backward. Her head hit the wall. She bounced forward, her mouth open and keening, grabbed the back of her chair for support, and slumped into it.

Mitch aimed his gun straight at Bailey. “Everybody
stay
where you are, or this one gets it.”

Bailey shrank back in her chair, looking down the gun barrel. Every limb in her body shook.

Hate skewed Brad’s face as he leered at Carla, his jaw locked and eyes spitting fire. “
You
don’t want to lose a daughter?
We
already lost a brother. Now you know —”

The door crashed open and Kent Wicksell stumbled inside, clutching his weapon. His expression was blacker than Brad’s, spittle on his mouth, his barrel chest heaving.

“They had a SWAT guy out there!” He slammed the door shut, locked and bolted it with one hand. “Right up the street, a guy in full uniform!” He swung left, then right, blindly propelled by rage.

Brad backed up two steps and half turned his head, eyes still on Carla. “Did you get him?”

“I got
nobody
— they were all already around the building.” Kent stormed across the floor like a mad man. “I wasn’t about to run after ’em. Coulda had a dozen men around that corner.”

Around the corner
. The girls were safe. Nauseating relief swept through Bailey. She looked at Carla, her throat so tight it ached. Carla’s chin dropped. She huddled in her chair, arms drawn across her chest, and cried.

Kent jerked toward her. “Shut
up
!” He stomped toward the hostages. “Shut up, all of you! I don’t want to see
anybody
crying. Your precious girls got away, all right? Don’t worry about the fact that your cop
lied
to me, and I almost got myself
killed
.”

“He shoot back?” Mitch shuffled backward, away from Bailey, and aimed his weapon toward the table where Paige, Ted, and Leslie sat.

“No, or I’d be dead. He grabbed the girls and ran.” Kent paced to the counter and slammed his fist against it. Turned around and stomped the other direction.

“And
you
!” He swung suddenly toward Jared. In a second he’d closed the space between them. His hand lashed out, grabbed Jared by the shirt, and pulled him to his feet. Kent pushed his purpled face into the older man’s.

Leslie gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth.

“This whole thing came from
your
bright idea,” Kent spat at Jared. “Let me tell you something. Those reporters don’t do exactly what they’re supposed to do, or your cop out there lies to me again?” Kent ground his teeth. “I. Will. Kill. You.”

Jared hung before him, head pulled back, frightened eyes fixed upon Kent.

“You
hear
me?”

Jared managed a slight nod. Kent growled and shoved him down. The chair surged sideways a few inches, its legs stuttering across the linoleum.

Kent swung around and strode to his table near the front window. He snatched up the phone.

“Edwards!”

He burst into a stream of curses.

FIFTY-SEVEN

Vince stepped into the hall and spotted the girls. Roger led them, both stumbling and wild-eyed, into the second office. Larry flattened himself against the wall, letting them pass. “Stay with Justin,” Vince told Larry. He entered the office in time to see Brittany collapse into the desk chair and Ali fall into a second one Roger had pulled from the wall. Brittany leaned over, crying into her hands. Ali’s body shook, all color gone from her cheeks. Half dazed, she stared at her left palm, scraped and seeping blood.

Dr. Hughes headed for Ali first. She placed her bag on the desk, stooped down to look the girl in the face. “Hi.” She took Ali’s uninjured hand in her own. “I’m Dr. Hughes. I’m here to make sure you’re all right. Will you let me look at your palm?”

Ali nodded numbly.

Vince walked over and put a hand on her head. Gave her a small smile. “Ali. We’re so glad to see you and Brittany safe. Very glad.”

She looked up at him, chin trembling. “Where’s my mom and dad?”

Out of nowhere, thoughts of his own son pierced Vince. How Tim had died half a world away, without his mom or dad.
Tim, how could I not have been there with you?

Vince steadied his voice. “You’ll see them soon, Ali, I promise. They’re near one of our officers and have been notified that you’re safe. We just have to make sure you’re okay first and talk to you for a few minutes.”

Ali’s gaze lowered, as if she was too tired to argue. She fixed her eyes on Dr. Hughes. Her scraped palm must have hurt, but she appeared not to feel it.

When the shock wore off, she would.

Vince patted her shoulder, then focused on Roger. “Good work.”

Roger gave him a wan smile.

The phone rang. Roger turned to answer it.

Vince went over to Brittany. He squatted beside her, placing his hand on her arm. “Brittany. My name’s Chief Edwards. I don’t think we’ve met before, but I’ve heard a lot about you from Carla. She’s very proud of you.”

The girl raised a tear-streaked face, her mouth trembling. “You have to get her
out
of there!”

Her grief wrapped around his heart. “We’re doing everything we can to get
everyone
out of there.”

She held his gaze, as if deciding whether she could believe him.

He offered her a tiny smile. “Promise.”

Her eyes dropped. She swallowed hard.

Vince took his hand away. “When Dr. Hughes is finished with Ali, she’ll examine you and make sure you’re okay. Can you just sit here a minute?”

She nodded.

“Good. In the meantime, it would be a big help if you can tell me about the men in Java Joint. Anything you can remember may be very important. The more we know about what’s going on in there, the better I know how to deal with them.”

Brittany wiped her eyes with sudden impatience, her jaw jutting forward. The expression reminded Vince of Carla when she was ticked off. “I can tell you
plenty
. They’re mean and nasty, and they
smell
. Kent’s the one in charge. The other two stand around pointing their guns at everybody. They’ve got this duffel bag that

I think has extra guns in it. And bullets. They’ve each got a jacket with pockets stuffed with ammunition too. The youngest one, Brad, is a —” Her lips pressed. She didn’t need to say what she was thinking.

Vince’s legs were tiring in the squat position, but he didn’t want to stop Brittany’s flow of words. He reached for the arm of her chair to steady himself. “Do the other two men have the same kind of gun as Kent Wicksell?”