Hearts on the Line

by Margaret Daley

Before she slid into the pew, Brendan whispered, “I noticed there was some tension between you and Quinn.”

  He didn’t ask a question but his expression and tone indicated he was available to listen to her problems if she so chose. “Your powers of observation haven’t diminished since you went to work for the FBI.”

  “He’s my brother, but you and I are friends. I’m here if you need me.”

  She attempted a smile that faltered. “Thanks. I know. There really isn’t anything to talk about. He’s finished with my house and is moving on to other…projects.”

  Both of Brendan’s eyebrows rose. “So this recent chumminess was due to the renovation he was doing?”

  “You know how it is when you’re forced into close quarters with another.”

  Brendan’s chuckles peppered the air, rivaling the background organ music. “Yeah, thankfully. Otherwise Chloe and I might not be engaged.” He glanced around at the pews beginning to fill up with guests. “Better get back to my job as an usher. I’ll talk with you at the reception. I want to tell you about a visit from my brother last night.”

  With that parting, mysterious remark, Brendan sauntered away, leaving Becca ready to throttle him. What was that supposed to mean? He knew her curiosity would leave her mulling over his statement, trying to figure out what he had meant by it. Sinking down onto the pew, she clenched her jaw, hating the fact that for a few seconds hope had flared in her heart.

  Then she remembered she had walked away from Quinn, that she had ended it because she had known it wouldn’t have been long before Quinn did. She had just been the first to voice what they both had been feeling.

  Jessica slipped in beside her. “They’re almost ready to start.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Checking on the twins and Amy.”

  Becca laughed. “You’ve got it bad.”

  “What?”

  “Being a mother.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with that.” Jessica lifted her chin, her chest expanding with a deep breath.

  “I know,” Becca murmured as the music changed, signaling the the beginning of the ceremony to the guests.

  As she angled around to watch the procession, Becca fought the yearning for a child that was poking its head out again. Had she overreacted when Caitlin had left home, declaring to everyone she was through being a parent? Was she just being stubborn sticking by that declaration? Those questions flitted through her mind as Colleen, on the arm of her father, Frank, walked down the aisle toward Alessandro. The satin and lace gown with long train accentuated Colleen’s curves while the veil did nothing to conceal the look of contentment on her face.

  Becca was thrilled for Colleen and Alessandro. They deserved some happiness after all that had happened the past few months. But seeing the couple staring into each other eyes with such love ripped her own heart into shreds. She wanted a man to look at her like that. For a fleeting time she had thought that might be possible with Quinn until reality had set in.

  Halfway through the ceremony Amy began dancing about. Nothing Holly or Chloe, who were the nearest bridesmaids, did stopped the little girl.

  Jessica groaned. “She needs to go to the restroom.” She started to rise.

  Becca stopped her. “Let me. This is your family. Enjoy the rest of the wedding.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Please.”

  There was probably a pained look in her eyes, Becca decided because Jessica relinquished her mommy role. Becca moved toward the side aisle where she would be less obvious and came around behind Amy. Taking the child’s hand, she hurried to the side of the church and toward the back double doors.

  Out in the foyer Amy whined, “Becca, I’ve got to go bad.”

  “I know. C’mon.”

  Becca went toward the hallway that led to the classrooms and the nursery. Inside the restroom she waited for the little girl, then made sure Amy washed her hands when she was finished. When the little girl started to dry them on her dress, Becca pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and gave it to the child.

  “Mommy’s always telling me not to use my clothes to dry my hands.”

  “Yeah, that’s a mommy thing. Ready to go? We can sit at the very back.”

  Amy ran toward the door. Out in the hall she screwed up her face and turned toward Becca. “Why’s that strange man coming out of the nursery?” she asked in a loud voice.

  Hearing a child crying, Becca poked her head out, spying a dark haired man in the doorway into the nursery staring at Amy, his arm clutching Manuel, who wiggled, trying to get down, tears running down his chubby face.

  Escalante!

  He had come for his son.

  In that moment the world came to a grinding halt. Then her police training kicked in. She pushed Amy behind her, saying, “Don’t come out until someone you know comes and gets you. Promise?”

  “Yes,” came the shaky response.

  Becca peered around the corner of the door frame and saw that Escalante had darted back into the nursery. She went for the gun that usually she wore at the small of her back. Of course, there wasn’t anything there, and she’d left her purse with her weapon in it with Jessica in the sanctuary.

  The screams coming from the nursery sent a chill down Becca. The slamming of its door alerted her to the hostage situation quickly developing with little children and two adults as the captives. Nothing could be worse, and she couldn’t take back that she and Amy had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Becca went back into the restroom. “I’ve changed my mind. I need you to come with me. But you’ve got to stay behind me. Understand?”

  The child’s huge eyes widened even more, but she nodded.

  With her body shielding Amy, Becca eased out into the hallway, her gaze glued to the closed nursery door. She backed down the corridor toward the sanctuary. She needed help.

  At the entrance into the foyer Becca said, “Amy, I need you to get your daddy. No matter what he’s doing, make him come here.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Although she wasn’t looking at the child because she had to keep her gaze trained on the nursery, Becca heard the tears in Amy’s voice. She tried to maintain a calm tone when she replied, “I need your daddy’s help. Now go.”

  The urgency prodded the little girl to race across the foyer and yank open the door into the sanctuary. Becca heard it swish closed, every fiber of her being vigilant for any movement from the nursery. She didn’t even have her cell phone to inform the police, and she couldn’t risk leaving to make the call.

  Quinn kept looking toward the double doors that Becca and Amy had disappeared through. The second Becca left the sanctuary disappointment gripped him. He’d been able to sneak some glances toward her during the ceremony as he’d scanned the guests, allowing his gaze to linger a few seconds longer on Becca’s beautiful face. Who was he kidding? How was he going to manage to walk away from her without being hurt? After the sleepless night before, he couldn’t fool himself. He loved Becca Hilliard and didn’t know how to bridge the gulf between their opposing sides on several key issues.

  The sound of Pastor Gabriel’s voice pronouncing Colleen and Alessandro husband and wife pulled him away from endless questions Quinn had asked himself for the past eighteen hours. A cheer rose from the crowd, followed by loud clapping. The Vances and Montgomerys were so ready to celebrate and this wedding was the perfect reason.

  “Daddy, Daddy, Becca needs you,” Amy screamed, running down the center aisle. She stumbled, fell but quickly scrambled to her feet and continued toward her father.

  The fear in the child’s eyes sent a shaft of his own fear straight through Quinn. He was in front of Amy a step ahead of Sam, kneeling down to the child’s level while her father hovered over his shoulder.

  “What’s wrong with Becca?” Quinn asked, forcing himself to keep his voice steady and calm while all kinds of scenarios ran through his head—none of them good.

  “There’s a
bad man in the nursery.”

  Those words struck terror in Quinn—and, he knew, in everyone else in the church. Sam stepped around Quinn and scooped his daughter up in his arms, deposited her into Jessica’s, then strode toward the foyer with Quinn right behind.

  At the back of the church as more people surged toward them, Quinn raised his hands and shouted over the din of concerned voices, “Please stay here until we assess the situation. I promise one of us will be back to let you all know what’s going on.” He quirked a reassuring grin that he couldn’t maintain. “You know little kids’ imaginations. Probably nothing to get alarmed about.” He prayed to God he was speaking the truth, Quinn thought as he hurriedly followed Sam out into the foyer.

  Quinn spotted Becca by the door that led to the classrooms and the nursery. By her rigid stance—alert, poised to move at a second’s notice—he knew that Amy had described the situation quite adequately. A bad man was in there with the children!

  “Becca, what’s going on? Amy said—”

  When Becca pivoted toward them, Quinn froze. The look, an almost panicked one until she got herself under control, confirmed Quinn’s worst fears. Escalante hadn’t died—again.

  “Escalante tried to kidnap Manuel. He’s holed up in the nursery with all the children. The door’s closed and he hasn’t tried to leave.” She swung her gaze back down the length of the hall.

  “Have you heard anything coming from the nursery?” Sam asked before Quinn could say anything.

  “Shouts and screams, nothing else.”

  All the color drained from Sam’s face. “Did he have a gun?”

  Becca thought for a few long seconds, trying to visualize the too-brief scene again in her mind. “I think so. It happened so fast, but I think I saw one stuck in his waistband.”

  Escalante with a gun among their children. Quinn’s legs nearly gave out on him. He braced his arm against the wall. They couldn’t dwell on that.

  “Have you called the police?” Quinn asked, pushing his fear to the back because it wouldn’t do him any good. It wouldn’t get the children out safely.

  “I don’t have my cell and I didn’t want to leave this spot.”

  With trembling hands, Sam flipped his phone open and called the police to report what had happened at the church. “There’ll be here as soon as possible, but I don’t want to wait. Escalante’s crazy with revenge and hates all Vances and Montgomerys. Most of that nursery is filled with kids with those last names.”

  Lord, protect the children, Quinn prayed.

  “Let me try to negotiate,” Becca said.

  Sam shook his head, his attention fixed on the nursery door. “It won’t help. He has nothing to lose now. We’ve got to do something fast.”

  “You can’t storm the nursery.” Alarm rippled through Becca’s expression before she managed to control it.

  Sam clenched his hands as though he wanted to punch the wall. “There has to be something we can do.”

  Quinn felt the same frustration. Their options were few. They didn’t have—Suddenly a possible solution presented itself. “I’ve got an idea.” Both Sam and Becca’s gazes riveted to him, and he continued, working out the logistics in his head. “Our company built this addition to the church. We built a door into a storage area in the back of the closet in the nursery. We can get into the storage area through the heating shaft, then into the closet. He won’t be expecting us. Hopefully we can surprise Escalante before he hurts any of the kids.”

  “It has to work.” Sam headed for the sanctuary. “I’ll get a team together and let everyone know what’s going on. We have a church full of trained officers. Becca, do your thing. Maybe it will distract Escalante long enough to get us into the room.”

  Left with Becca in the foyer, Quinn said, “There’s a phone line into the nursery. He might pick up.” He moved toward the first room, which was an office with a phone. “Extension two-eight-three.” He turned to leave, intending to be in on the raid. People he loved were in that room and he knew the way into it.

  “Leave it to Sam, Quinn.” Becca picked up the receiver.

  “No. Aren’t you the one who told me to trust in the Lord, that risks are part of life?”

  “Yes, but I meant—” Becca didn’t finish her sentence. Quinn was gone. She heard his footsteps on the tile floor, striding away from her.

  She squeezed her eyes closed. Protect them, God.

  Taking a deep, composing breath, Becca punched in the numbers, her hand clutching the tan receiver as though it were a lifeline. And perhaps it was for those children. A pounding behind her eyes vied with the ringing of the phone—insistent, annoying, never ending. Escalante wasn’t going to pick up.

  God, I need Your help.

  That composing breath she had taken in seemed to spread throughout her body, relaxing her, directing her on the task at hand. God was with her as if He stood right next to her. Instinctively she shifted, staring at the empty space next to her, and felt comfort in the sense He was surrounding her with His love and power.

  Suddenly the ringing stopped and a gruff voice said, “I will start killing children if I don’t get safe passage to the airport, where a plane will be waiting to take me and my son out of the country.”

  The sound of crying in the background, of children wailing for their mommies, wrenched Becca’s heart, but she couldn’t allow that to distract her. “This is Becca Hilliard. That will take some time to arrange.”

  “I have nothing to lose now. If I am going down, so are a lot of Vances and Montgomerys. I will blow this whole place. There is one door into this room and I have it wired. Do not call back unless you have news for me. You have ten minutes before I start shooting.”

  “I can’t—”

  The phone slammed down, the noise vibrating down her length. Did Escalante have a bomb, too? From the frantic tone to his voice he sounded as though he had gone over the edge. How could he be alive? She’d seen—She didn’t have the time to think about that.

  Heading out of the office, she ran into the mayor. “We need to get everyone out of the church. Escalante has wired the nursery door and if anyone goes in through it, he’ll blow the place up. He’s given us ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes! You think he would kill himself to spite us?” Max asked, his face looking as deathly pale as when he’d been lying unconscious in his hospital bed.

  “Yes.”

  TWELVE

  In the church foyer Quinn shed his tuxedo coat while Sam gathered the team going into the nursery, filling them on what they needed to do. Brendan and Alessandro took their jackets off, too, and checked the weapons they were going to use.

  His younger brother thrust a gun into Quinn’s hand. “You know how to use this. You may need it.”

  The heavy metal in his grip felt alien. He used to practice with Brendan at the shooting range and had done well, even better than his younger brother, but he had never shot at a live target. But if he had to, he would. Escalante’s reign of terror would end today.

  “Jake, will you coordinate with the police when they arrive? They should be here soon.” Sam started toward the maintenance closet.

  Max hastened toward them. “Son, Becca just told me that Escalante said the door into the nursery is wired, and he said he will start shooting—” the mayor glanced at his watch “—in nine minutes.”

  Sam blanched.

  Quinn’s stomach knotted. A bomb! Memories of the explosion at the hospital, of Maggie’s death, flashed into his mind, making him go ice cold.

  “I can disarm it once we get into the nursery,” Alessandro said from behind Sam.

  “What if the closet door is wired, too?” Quinn asked the question each of the men was thinking.

  “No, I don’t think it is,” Max said. “Escalante told Becca he wired the only door into the nursery. I don’t think he bothered with the closet.”

  “Let’s pray you’re right. We don’t have much time,” Sam muttered and resumed his path to the entrance
into the heating shaft in the ceiling.

  Quinn accompanied Sam, with Alessandro and Brendan right behind them. Lord, watch out for the children.

  Becca hung up with her commander on the negotiation team. They were five minutes away. According to Escalante’s deadline, there were six minutes left. Not enough time. But in hopes of stalling, she made another call to extension 283. She heard the ringing of the phone coming from the earpiece and from the hallway in the direction of the nursery. An eerie sensation snaked up her spine.

  Max returned and stood in the doorway, alternating watching her and the nursery door. “They know about the bomb.”

  The ringing ceased. Becca tensed.

  “What do you have for me?” Escalante practically shouted into the receiver.

  “A helicopter is on its way to take you to the airport, where a plane is being gassed for you. But it will take fifteen minutes.”

  “I want a car now before a sniper has a chance to set up a kill shot. One of the guests. You drive. I’m no fool. Don’t play me for one. Bring it to the back door, pull right up to it. You’ve got four minutes.” Escalante severed their connection.

  Becca looked toward Max. “He wants a car now. I’m to drive him to the airport.”

  “No, I will. His beef is with me, not you.” Rage mottled his face red.

  “You aren’t an option.” Becca covered the few steps to Max and held out her hand for the keys. “I need your car. Where is it?”

  “First row, the black Lexus.”

  “Do you have your cell phone? I’ll need to call him when I’m parked at the back door.” Hers was still in her purse.

  Max fished into his pocket and pulled out his cell and car keys and gave them to her. “Maybe Sam will take Escalante out before it comes to that.”

  Going out the door, Becca said, “Either way, I’ll make the call in two minutes.”

  She rushed through the foyer and out the main entrance, spying Max’s car in the first row. Hundreds of people crowded the parking lot at a safe distance from the church, all their gazes on the building. Becca saw a few familiar faces, but she had no time to stop and explain what she was doing. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—let Escalante kill one child, even if it meant putting her own life on the line.