by CJ Lyons
“What do you know about delivering babies?” he asked. At first she thought he was joking but he was serious.
“We saw a movie in health class. It was pretty gross. And they talked about it in my emergency responder class.” Part of Megan’s preparation for her black belt was taking an advanced first aid class in addition to performing community service and teaching the younger kids at the dojo.
He nodded grimly. “That’s more than me. Plus you can shoot better than I can.”
Shoot? Oh yeah. The bad guys after June. “Like you said, she might not even have the baby tonight.”
“Maybe we should both just stay here. But what if there are complications? We need to consider the odds of that versus the odds that your mother was wrong and someone might have followed her here. She said Walden was coming, but who knows how long he’ll be.”
Megan blinked. He was asking her to weigh in on the decision as if she was an adult. She thought hard, trying to put her fear aside and think about what was best for June and the baby. “You should go. You can move faster than I can, get help up here. Besides, either Walden or Seth will probably get here soon.”
Seth. Where was he? Was he even planning to come back or was he going to try to stop the bad guys all by himself? If so, then they wouldn’t be coming here. That was one good thing.
She grabbed the mop from the laundry room and cleaned up the mess on the living room floor. By the time she’d finished and returned to the kitchen, it was clear her father had made up his mind. He had a pot of water on the stove, scissors and string waiting on the counter nearby. “Just in case.”
“So you’re staying?” She bit her lip as she looked out to the storm. “I can’t go through the woods,” she confessed. “I’ll get lost. I’ll have to take the road and that’s miles longer.”
He gave her a quick hug. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. If it comes to it, I can find my way down the path to the lake. There are phones there at the rec area.”
“You’re leaving me?” She didn’t want that either. She wanted him to stay. Here. Where it was safe. With her.
He looked stricken at the idea. Wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight. “No. Megan. I’m not. I’m just thinking through all the options. But there is no way I’d ever risk you. I know it sounds awful, but you’re my baby. You come before anyone else’s.”
Megan clutched at him, wishing she never had to leave his embrace. “Then why was it so easy for Mom to leave? She had the same choice to make as you do.”
“It’s not the same and you know it. To start with, she left you with me. She knew I’d take care of you, no matter what. And she had no idea Seth would take the car and your cell phone.”
Didn’t matter. Mom had still left. And now she and Dad were going to have to do this all alone, deliver a baby.
“I know Mom has to do her job,” Megan, started before he could tell her to stop being a spoiled brat and grow up—heck, that’s what she kept telling herself. But…all the words in the world couldn’t change her feelings. “But sometimes I wish there was someone else who could fight the bad guys.” She looked down at her feet, hating to chance spying her father’s disappointment. “Sometimes I wish she’d choose us.”
Dad folded her into a hug that rocked her onto her toes. “Honey, she does choose us. You know that. Just like I know that you’re very proud of the work she does, the lives she saves. But it’s tough seeing her go, isn’t it?”
She nodded into his chest.
“Can I tell you a secret? It is for me, too.”
They stood still for a long moment, then he held her at arm’s length. “You up for this? Helping June and her baby?”
Excitement pushed her fear away. “Yes, sir.”
He didn’t look convinced, but gave her another quick hug, kissing the top of her head like she was a baby. “I love you. And I’m so very proud of you. You can handle this, I know you can.”
They separated. Dad rubbed his face, deep in thought.
“Do you know where Grams’ keeps her first aid kit?” he asked.
“In the bathroom, under the sink.”
“When June’s done in there, you grab it, set up everything we’ll need. Get the lantern and flashlights out, just in case.” As he spoke, he grabbed the heavy-duty flashlight from the junk drawer and tested it. “I’m going to get more wood for the fire.” He looked around the room, frowning. “Not sure what else we can do.”
“Women have been having babies for millions of years. It’s going to be fine.” She blinked, realizing she sounded just like her mom: confident and in control. If only she actually felt that way inside.
They returned to the living room as June emerged from the bathroom. She’d obviously been crying, her face splotchy and eyes red. “Are you leaving?”
“Just bringing in more wood. Are you doing okay? Do you need anything?”
She held both hands under her belly as if protecting the baby from everything that was going wrong. Took a deep breath. “Okay. It’ll be okay.” She looked to Megan. “Right?”
Why was she looking to Megan for reassurance? And how could she sound so calm? But then she realized, what choice did she have? The baby was coming no matter what, panicking wouldn’t solve anything.
She straightened and glanced at the photo of her grams on the mantle. What would she do if she was in Megan’s position? That was easy.
“How about a nice cup of tea?”
Chapter 29
LUCY TRIED MEGAN one last time and when she couldn’t make it through, she called Walden. “How far are you from my house?”
“We’re almost there. Got a bit of a late start—”
“Hey, Lucy Mae!” Oshiro’s voice rang out. “No way I was gonna miss this party.”
Of course not. Mr. Superman wouldn’t let a few cracked ribs and a gunshot wound slow him down. And people accused Lucy of pushing herself.
“When you get there, I need to speak to Nick—no one’s picking up when I call. And you need to keep an eye on Seth.”
“Seth? Why?”
No way was she explaining her wildly unsubstantiated theory over the phone. Besides, Walden and Oshiro were friends of Seth; it wasn’t fair to put them in that position until she had facts.
“I need to ask him more about his recent cases. You know what, it’s going to be crowded up there and Taylor wants his car back. Send Nick and Megan back to the city. Less distractions for you two.”
Silence for a moment and she knew he was parsing her words, not understanding what was behind them. But Walden being Walden, he didn’t ask why she wanted Nick and Megan back with her, away from Seth. One of the reasons she loved working with the man. When it came to dissecting theories for a case, he’d gleefully question her every idea, rip them apart with surgical precision. But he’d never question her judgment when it came to her family.
“Will do,” he finally said.
“Thanks. And tell Oshiro to stay out of trouble.”
“You kidding? I’m putting in for hazard pay just hanging out with the guy.”
Lucy hung up, started the Tahoe, and steered it up through the levels of the empty parking garage. Taylor hunched over his computer, oblivious to anything else.
“Hang on,” he said, talking to himself as she left the parking garage and turned down the narrow drive leading back to the street. The rain still pounded steadily but the tall warehouses lining the drive blocked the wind. She turned the wipers up to their highest setting and hit defrost. “Whoa. Hang on. I think my algorithm—” He jerked upright. “What the hell?”
Ahead of them a wall of flames filled the night. A Dumpster had been pushed into the drive and set on fire, Lucy saw between swipes of the wiper blades. Her tactical instincts kicked in and she accelerated.
A layperson would slam on the brakes, try to swerve to turn away from the obstacle. But that meant stopping and becoming vulnerable to an ambush. The best way to handle a barricade like this was the same way her mom had taught her
to handle a deer running at a car—basically a modified PIT maneuver. Hit the obstacle at the far corner, using the momentum of your vehicle to pivot it one way while you sped past it in the other direction.
Too slow and the obstacle might spin the entire arc, crashing into the rear of your vehicle. Too fast and you might skid out of control.
Lucy judged the rain slick pavement, the size and weight of the Dumpster, ignored the fire—it was there to trigger primal fear, wouldn’t pose a danger unless the Dumpster tipped over on top of the Tahoe and the fire spilled out—and aimed her driver’s side front bumper at the far right hand corner of the Dumpster. There was a little more room between the Dumpster and the brick wall of the warehouse they were passing on that side. If she hit the Dumpster just right—
The headlights caught a figure standing in the rain just past the Dumpster. A little girl, barefoot and soaking wet, wearing nothing but a pink nightgown, her face reflecting the flames.
Taylor saw her as well. “Lucy, look out!”
The Tahoe hit the Dumpster’s corner as planned—not hard enough to blow the air bags, just hard enough to spin the Dumpster out of their way. Except now she had no room to maneuver around the little girl in the center of the road. Who wasn’t moving. Just stared at Lucy and the SUV rushing toward her, squinting her eyes against the glare of the headlights.
“Move, get out of there!” Taylor shouted to the girl.
Lucy didn’t have time for useless words. She jammed on the brakes, yanked the wheel as hard left as possible, spinning the Tahoe to follow the same trajectory that she’d sent the Dumpster in. Not enough, they were still going too fast. She hauled her bad foot up to hit the emergency brake. The smell of burning rubber filled the vehicle.
Her vision tunneled to focus on the little girl who stood frozen. Lucy barely registered the dark van with its rear doors open parked between the girl and the end of the drive. Or the flames marking the Dumpster’s movement as it finished its arc by slamming into the Tahoe’s rear driver’s side panel.
Taylor pressed his face against his window, watching as they skidded in front of the girl, while Lucy furiously spun the wheel back the opposite way to avoid going a full 180 and risk hitting the girl with the rear of the SUV. Instead she aimed for the wall of the building opposite them. They’d slowed enough that was the safest course for everyone.
The SUV hit the wall. Taylor’s laptop flew past Lucy, careening into the back seat. The airbags deployed, filling the passenger compartment with smoke and powder and swaths of fabric dropping from the ceiling as well as bursting free from the dashboard.
The Dumpster lurched to a stop, bouncing off their rear quarter, in effect swapping positions with the original angle of the SUV that now sat stopped, blocking the road horizontally.
“Can you see her?” Lucy asked Taylor, choking on the smoke. Her seat belt had tightened and wasn’t helping; she could barely draw in a breath. Never mind the red-hot blaze of pain racing up her leg. “Did I hit her? Are you okay?”
She raised her head, trying to see through the windshield. A rush of cold air and water hit her from Taylor’s side of the vehicle. Still stunned, she swung around to face him, just as he yelled something incomprehensible.
His body was dragged from the vehicle and out into the night.
She blinked, trying to focus, the airbag smoke burning her eyes. A man. A man had Taylor.
It took two tries to get her seatbelt unfastened. She drew her weapon but Taylor and his abductor had moved far enough away that she had no shot—and no cover, not sitting in the vehicle.
Her door opened with a groan of metal. She slid out, forgetting how high the Tahoe was, but her good foot caught the running board in time to save her from a fall. Adrenaline swept away the pain as she landed on the pavement and stumbled around the backside of the SUV, using it as cover. The Dumpster was behind her, only five or six feet away, the heat of the flames rising over its sides warming her back.
She barely noticed. All her focus was on Taylor. The man used him as cover, couldn’t be much taller than Taylor’s own five-seven. He must have come prepared because he was forcing Taylor to place handcuffs on himself as he dragged them back, a semi-automatic pistol held to Taylor’s head. It could have been Taylor’s own service weapon.
She aimed her Glock but the girl stood between her and the man. And the man was smart enough to stay behind Taylor, the only part of him exposed was his arm holding the weapon. Taylor snapped the handcuffs shut and raised his head, his expression a mix of shock and fear.
“Stop!” Lucy shouted over the roar of the flames behind her and the sound of the rain. “Federal agents. Put your weapon down.”
She wasn’t expecting the man to obey—it was clear this was a well-planned attack—but hoped he might stop to answer, giving her a few more precious seconds to find the shot she needed. They were almost to the rear of the van.
Lucy moved forward, her weapon trained on Taylor and the man. She had almost reached the little girl who still wasn’t moving, hadn’t even turned to watch the commotion behind her. Least of Lucy’s worries. If she let Taylor get inside that van…
“You know what I want,” the man shouted, raising his head just enough for Lucy to see that he wore a ski mask. “Call me when you have it.”
They reached the open rear door of the van. Lucy braced herself. There’d be a moment, just a moment, when the abductor would need to show himself as he loaded Taylor inside. That’s when she’d take him down.
The abductor swung Taylor around, ready to push him into the van. Lucy forced herself to slow her breathing. Get ready, get ready… In the instant before the abductor would have been exposed, he lowered his weapon.
Just long enough to shoot a puddle standing between him and the girl.
Fire blazed up from the pavement. Lucy blinked against the sudden light as she realized the attacker had done more than prepare a diversion with a puddle of gasoline. He’d left a trail of it leading to where the girl stood.
Her aim remained on the attacker who waited, his mouth a pale, twisted goblin grin in the light of the fire, the rest of his face concealed by the mask. The fire raced toward the girl.
Taylor met Lucy’s gaze. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving, but he gave her a nod. She’d already made her choice, was holstering her weapon even as she spun toward the girl who stood perfectly still, although there was no way she couldn’t sense the fire rushing toward her.
As Lucy lurched to reach the girl, her bad leg slowing her, the man threw Taylor into the van and hopped in after him, slamming the door shut. Lucy traced the trajectory of the flames—she was too slow, she wasn’t going to reach the girl in time.
The van sped off. Lucy closed the distance, was only a few feet away when the flames hit the puddle where the girl stood waiting. Fire gushed through the air. Lucy pushed off with her good foot and leapt.
She tackled the girl, cradling the girl’s head in her arms, and rolled them free from the puddle of gasoline, flames following them as the girl’s nightgown caught fire. Lucy rolled them on the wet pavement, once, twice, then stopped as the flames died and they were clear of the blaze.
She pushed up, her elbows scraped, leg crying for mercy, and examined the girl. No injuries except some redness to her feet and ankles, and the bottom of her nightgown was singed.
Running footsteps came up from behind her. The patrolman who’d been guarding the entrance to their crime scene. He had his weapon drawn and was yelling into his radio. Lucy glanced down the drive just in time to see the van careen onto the main road and vanish from sight.
“I need an ambulance and road blocks—they took Taylor!” she shouted over the rushing in her head.
She knew she needed to slow down, but the adrenalin flooding her system was in control of the moment. She sat on the filthy pavement, water splashing around her, fire in front of her and behind her, and couldn’t tell if her face was wet with rain or tears as she hugged the girl to her chest.
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br /> “What took you so long?” she asked the patrolman as he bent to see if either she or the girl were injured.
“You kidding?” he replied, his voice coming in a staccato as he heaved in one breath after another. “Broke my record for the forty. It all happened so fast.”
Sirens and lights filled the street behind her as Burroughs and the other cops arrived. The Dumpster and Tahoe blocked their path, stymieing any attempt at pursuit. Burroughs jumped out of his Impala and ran over to her. “Lucy, what happened?”
She squeezed her eyes, looked away. “Taylor. He took Taylor.”
Chapter 30
LUCY SOMEHOW MANAGED to get a call into the on-duty agent at the federal building to send the alert of Taylor’s abduction and set up a trap on her cell phone as well as Taylor’s. That would track any incoming or outgoing calls as well as activate the GPS locators. When she finished she stared at her phone and couldn’t remember if she’d actually made the call or had only imagined it.
The girl cradled in her lap hadn’t said a word, hadn’t moved. “It’s okay,” Lucy murmured, stroking her hair and bending over her to shield her from the chaos surrounding them. “You’re safe now.”
The girl didn’t even blink. She stared at the spot where the van had been.
“Do you know your name?” Lucy asked. Missy Barstow had been only ten months old when she’d been abducted. She couldn’t be one hundred percent certain this girl was Missy, but she bore a strong resemblance to her parents’ pictures from the case file.
The girl’s face went blank as she considered the question. She didn’t look at Lucy as she answered. “Girl.”
The single word was heart wrenching. Lucy buried her face in the shoulder of her parka, wiping away water and hiding her expression. Bastard, she thought, rage drowning out any thought of professionalism. There was no hell, no torture heinous enough for the man who called himself Daddy.
