Cold Pursuit (Cold Justice) (Volume 2) (4 page)

Not everyone who lay there was dead. He could see some movement. The odd, shallow breath, the flicker of an eyelid. But they were injured and vulnerable and goddamned they were hurt. Fury rose inside but he pushed it down. Emotion wouldn’t help. Tactical training and well-placed bullets would.

He eyed the toy store, which looked empty. The white cabinet beneath the cashier’s register was still closed and not riddled with bullets. A good sign.

They were about to move when a gunman came into view inside the toy store, pacing back and forth. They all froze. The guy wore a balaclava rolled up his forehead. Aviator sunglasses and a black-trimmed beard. His features were hard to make out. Wright lined up a shot.

“Hold fire,” Jed murmured as he saw something else reflected in the glass at the other side of the store. Another gunman, then another figure—that looked like a woman under some bulky clothing and a headscarf. One of the notorious black widows? She was talking rapidly to the others though he couldn’t see her face. They were all heavily armed, no doubt conferring about their sadistic battle plans.

The cupboard door moved a fraction.

“Hell, kid, don’t come out now.” It was terrorist central, and the last thing he wanted was a firefight with a child slap bang in the middle.

CHAPTER THREE

“A
ny chance we can get someone to create a distraction on the other side of the plaza so we can get in there and extract the kid?” He looked at Marcos.

Marcos kept low and moved back into the depths of the restaurant to talk to his boss.

Jed scanned the mall and spotted several shooters in the wings, all watching and waiting. For what? Victims? Cops? Santa?

“Think they’re Muslim radicals?” Wright asked him softly.

“Beats the fuck out of me. Could be Muslim, could be domestic pretending to be Muslim to stir up trouble. We’ll know more when we get an ID on the dead guy. All I really know for sure is my mother sometimes shops at this mall and that could be her lying there dead. The idea they’d shoot her as easily as they’d shoot anyone else pisses me off.”

Marcos hunkered down behind Jed’s shoulder as they watched the terrorists. “Boss has a team about to do a hard entry from the north side. They’re trying to get to the security guards who’re holed up, and hopefully get better intel on what went down earlier.” The guy stared at his watch. “Ten seconds.”

Jed counted down in his head. It felt like an eternity.

A flash bang went off, and the terrorists jerked to attention. Three of them ran in the direction of the firefight, a fourth came out of the store and started patrolling the corridor in front of them with his weapon raised. As soon as he turned his back, Marcos drew his knife, ran up behind the guy, and cut his throat. Wright moved out to cover him, sweeping his gaze and his gun over the upper levels. Jed was sprinting to the toy store before the terrorist hit the deck. He slid to a halt and opened the cupboard door. A pair of big, blue eyes locked onto him, huge with fear.

“I’ve come to get you out…”

The kid shrank to the back of the cupboard. Then he closed his eyes and started to rock, which was about to make a lot of noise in the enclosed space.

There’s something you need to know…
The redhead
had
tried to tell him. He was an asshole for not listening to her.

He spoke quietly but firmly “Michael. Your mom sent me to get you out.”

The kid stopped rocking.

“You don’t believe me?”

The kid opened his eyes. Jed wished he’d say something. They had to move fast and get out before the bad guys came back and started shooting. He fished out his badge and showed it to him.

“Your mom is a redhead just like you, right? But prettier.” He joked. “And she’s loud when she’s angry, really loud, and she was angry with me for not letting her come back in here to get you like she promised.” Jed swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth. “She yelled at me a lot. So I guess she’s got a redheaded temperament too, huh? Fiery?”
Passionate
. He mentally kicked himself for his thoughts wandering in that direction when people were dying and he was trying to save her son. Still, he was a guy and adrenaline was pumping, amping up his idiot quota by a factor of a thousand.

The kid’s eyes locked on him. Connected. Concentrated. Jed had him, and he wasn’t about to let him go. “I don’t think she likes me very much, but if I get you out of here like I promised, I think we can get her to stop yelling at me. You think you can help me with that, Michael?”

Something weird was going on inside that kid’s brain, but clearly he wasn’t dumb. Maybe he was traumatized. Jed got it. This was not how he’d wanted to spend his day either. He offered his hand and dragged the kid out, giving him a quick squeeze of reassurance. The boy leaned down and picked up a pair of high-heeled shoes from the floor.

“Brennan, let’s go,” Marcos said. He and Wright scanned constantly for shooters. Jed held tight to Michael’s hand as they ran toward the restaurant. A woman who lay curled up on the floor groaned. Wright and Marcos didn’t break stride as they each took an arm and dragged her along too. Gunshots peppered the floor behind them, blasting out of nowhere. Jed grabbed Michael and picked up the pace. He ran inside the restaurant and turned, saw Wright stop and take aim high above them. Two seconds later came a cry and a whoosh of noise as the shooter fell and landed not ten feet from where they all stood. Jed covered Michael’s eyes and forced him to keep moving.

They sprinted fast through the kitchen and along the exit corridor, Jed taking the lead, Wright covering their asses and Marcos carrying the severely injured woman in his arms.

Wright radioed ahead that they were coming out. Fresh air hit them with a blast and they held up their hands for as long as it took to be ID’d as good guys. Another team passed them on the way back inside. Marcos handed the wounded woman off to a paramedic and Jed heard a shriek that pierced his brain.

“Michael!”

The sound of running had him bracing himself for impact.

The redhead had escaped her police babysitter and launched herself at her son like a rocket. Thankfully they’d uncuffed her. She grabbed her kid in her arms and swung him around in a tight circle, kissing him and squeezing so hard Jed winced.

“He’s fine.” Jed holstered the Glock.

The blue eyes told him to fuck off. Apparently rescuing her son wasn’t enough to win back any good points. Too bad. Michael passed his mother the shoes and Jed noticed for the first time her feet were bloody and bare.

“Thank you, Special Agent Brennan.” She surprised him. The words were tight and angry, but she got them out without choking. She closed her eyes for a moment before slipping the shoes back on.

“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry I lied to you about letting you back in there…”

“Don’t worry.” Her lips curled. “You’re not the first man to lie to me.”

Ouch
. Back with the glare again. He raised his hands in surrender. Another time and he’d have tried to get into her good graces, but people were trapped and bad guys were running amok in this city, killing innocents.

The redhead glanced at the woman being put on the stretcher. “Oh lord, I thought she was dead.” She whirled and waved over the cop who was supposed to be in charge of her. Jed didn’t know who this woman was, but she was certainly not cowed by authority. “That’s the mother of the baby and toddler.” She pointed to the kids she’d carried out of the mall, reminding Jed she’d done some pretty brave things herself today and didn’t need to thank him for a damned thing. “They should stay together.”

The cop nodded and went off to arrange it. She turned back to him. Michael pulled away from his mother’s grasp and grinned. Despite his ordeal the kid looked remarkably OK.

Press bulbs started flashing. Jed put up a hand to shield his eyes. “What the hell are they doing so close? Get them away from here.” A couple of beat cops moved the offending press back to a safer distance.

Jed glanced at the woman. She and her son looked very alike though her face was so pale he could see the occasional blue of a vein beneath her skin. “He was exactly where you left him.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “He was great. Never made a sound even when we were shot at.”

The kid lit up like a flame, but the woman’s eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth as if to lay into him.
Crap. Wrong thing to say.

Jed held up a finger to intercept a barrage of censure. “I promised your super-brave son that you’d stop yelling at me if he came out of there with me.”

She closed her mouth again. Then looked down at the carrot-topped boy and swallowed whatever she’d been going to say. “He did?”

Michael nodded rapidly, but his shoulders started to shake, shock finally setting in. Kids bounced back with ridiculous speed although they’d probably all need therapy for this one. There’d be fallout in the short-term to deal with first.

“Right.” She looked drained. “I’ll stop yelling then. Can we go?”

The idea of never seeing her again felt wrong, but they were in an ongoing terrorist situation. It wasn’t time to ask for her number or make plans to meet for coffee.

“We need to interview both you and Michael about what he saw or overheard in the mall. What’s your name?”

“Veronica Vincent—but everyone calls me ‘Vivi’ because of my initials.” Her eyes misted, and the kid looked at the floor and scuffed his shoes. “We won’t be able to tell you anything you don’t already know.”

“You don’t understand.” He lowered his voice. “Michael spent time in that store with some of the terrorists. He could have seen something or overheard a conversation that might seem like nothing to him, but could be vital to the investigation.”

“No,
you
don’t understand.” She lifted her son in her arms, and he buried his face in her neck. “I tried to tell you earlier, but it was a little difficult from my position handcuffed on the ground.” Those eyes of hers were spitting mad with recrimination. “Michael doesn’t speak, Special Agent Brennan. He doesn’t write and he doesn’t sign. So I’m afraid he can’t help you, and I’ve already given my statement to that nice police officer over there.” She jerked her head to the guy who’d cuffed her. “Can we go now? I want to get him checked out at the hospital.”

Jed’s mouth went dry. He nodded. She turned away, but not before he spotted the anguish on both their faces.

Perplexed and frustrated, he didn’t have time to ask what the hell was up with that. Her son didn’t talk? Ever?

Shit
. He rubbed his brow and went over to the command center. It was time to get the rest of these people to safety. The redhead and her kid weren’t his problem.

***

Pilah’s fellow attackers rushed toward the flash bang the authorities had thrown into the mall. The cops were beginning their assault. She hung back from the others and then spun around and watched as Jamal was shot and tumbled from the upper balcony.

Three, no, four running figures headed toward the restaurant that had a fire exit to the outside world. She glanced at the weapon in her hand and made her decision. Now or never, and she wasn’t ready to die. She ran toward where Jamal had landed, quickly wiped down the weapon they’d given her for prints, then dropped it beside the twisted wreckage of the man’s body.

Such horrific injuries—it turned her stomach. But she’d seen so much violent death and destruction over the past few years it barely registered. It wasn’t as if Jamal was someone she loved. She didn’t even like him very much.

The feds could track the burner cell she’d used, so she wiped it clean against her thigh and slipped it into Jamal’s jeans pocket.

Renewed gunfire made her hurry. She ran inside a clothing store next to the restaurant and found her size in pants, a blouse, sweater and a jacket. She took everything behind the counter and removed the security tags and price labels, then took off her boots and stripped down to her underwear. The sound of movement and the battle was getting louder. It wouldn’t be long until the cops stormed the mall. Quickly she pulled on the new clothes, stuffing her old ones and headscarf under the counter. Hand sanitizer sat on the countertop and she rubbed that over her skin, hoping to disguise any gunpowder residue. She grabbed her boots and then ran to hide behind a rack of dresses, deep inside the shop.

She laced her boots and then sat perfectly still, listening to the gun battle play itself out as her heart thumped madly in her chest. Would they catch her? Would they know she was part of the attack?

It was a full ten minutes before she spotted the shadow moving across the front of the shop window. The quiet punch of footsteps reverberated up her spine. Then voices and she heard a group of people scurry out of the storeroom. She moved quickly and joined them when the cop had his back turned. A saleswoman looked at her and Pilah burst into tears. “I thought I was going to die,” she sobbed.

The woman wrapped her arm around Pilah’s shoulders and hugged her tight. Made her part of the group. “We all did, honey. We all did.”

They followed the cop back into the mall as he led the way out. The other women gasped at the blood and carnage. Pilah covered her face with her hands. Jamal had made the ultimate sacrifice and his battle was over. Razur too. They’d be revered as martyrs the same way her husband was revered. But his ghost made a cold companion in their bed and a poor substitute as a father for their girls.

The image of her eldest daughter, Sabreena, flashed through her mind. Murdered by government troops simply because she had been in the wrong place and the wrong time. That’s why Adad had taken up arms in the first place—revenge. But their other children were now stuck in Syria, a country torn apart by civil war while the West refused to act. Sargon said they needed to demonstrate that the instability in Syria could overflow even as far as the heartland of America and then the Americans would intervene. Breadcrumbs of evidence would point to the Syrian Government, and maybe then the West would arm the rebels and help expel the vicious tyrant from power.