by Susan Fleet
“Okay,” said the taller electrician, frowning. “If you say so.”
The electricians lowered their makeshift weapons, the drill and the staple gun, and left the area through the doorway Frank had used. He hoped they'd keep going and leave the house, but he didn't dare turn his head to look, didn't dare take his eyes off the carjacker.
“My baby,” said the woman, her eyes fixed on Frank.
“Your child is in good hands. My partner's with your baby. He's got two kids of his own. What's your baby's name?”
“Bella. She's only sixteen months old!” the woman said, her voice rising in panic.
Frank gathered himself, got into a zone and focused on the carjacker. Barely out of his teens, the man grew more agitated, eyes darting this way and that, pinprick pupils, looked like he might be on crystal meth. Bad news. Oxy and heroin addicts tended to be laid back and sleepy, but crystal meth was a stimulant. Meth addicts were hyperactive and unpredictable, and often went for days without sleep. Dangerous.
“You're having a rough day, buddy,” Frank said, edging closer but not too close, twenty feet away now. “The holdup didn't go the way you planned, then you stole a car with a woman and a baby inside.”
“I didn't know the kid was there!”
“I'm sure you didn't. But we need to let the mom get back to her little girl. Give her a hug and make sure she's okay.”
The woman nodded, her eyes brimming with tears.
Sirens sounded in the distance. About time, Frank thought.
“Hear the sirens?” he said. “More police will be here soon. Quit while you're ahead. Nobody got hurt. Let the woman go and put down the knife.”
“No way!” The man clenched his forearm tighter around the woman.
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Please,” she whispered.
Frank took a deep breath, assessing the situation, his hands frozen claws around the Sig Sauer. He didn't want to use it, but if push came to shove, he would.
The sirens whooped to a stop somewhere nearby.
The cavalry had arrived.
Frank locked eyes with the carjacker. “Listen carefully. The bank stickup went wrong and you stole a car. Neither of those things will put away for life, but then you took the woman. Now you're threatening her with a knife, a deadly weapon. That carries big penalties. Let's end this now. Nobody needs to get hurt. Let the woman go, put down the knife, and we'll all walk out of here safe and sound.”
“No!” screamed the carjacker, his face contorted, holding the knife to the woman's throat.
Frank set his finger on the trigger and raised the Sig. “Touch her with that knife and you are dead.”
“Go ahead! Shoot me!” The carjacker shoved the woman to the floor and charged at Frank, brandishing the knife, his movements uncoordinated, his eyes glassy.
Shoot him, or not? Split seconds to decide. A life or death decision.
At the last instant, Frank dodged the knife and slammed the Sig against the bridge of man's nose with all the force he could muster.
The carjacker dropped the knife and fell to the floor, clutching his bloody nose and screaming obscenities.
Frank kicked the knife away, and a half-dozen officers swarmed the room and subdued the carjacker.
The woman struggled to her knees. When Frank helped her to her feet, she leaned against him, sobbing as though her heart would break.
“You were very brave,” he said. “You kept cool and stayed calm. Let's get you back to your little girl.”
“Thank you,” she said, wiping away tears. “I was afraid he was going to hurt Bella.”
“But he didn't. You'll be fine.” But not right way. For a while, months probably, she'd have nightmares, thinking about what might have happened.
He should know. It had been two years since Natalie Brixton shot him and he was still having flashbacks. Natalie Brixton, the woman with the distinctive stride.
The Interpol package on his desk included details about a series of European art heists. After the most recent one, a late-night robbery four months ago, someone had seen the thief leave the museum. The witness had told police he was certain it was a woman.
Because of her distinctive walk.
Table of Contents
Copyright
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
Excerpt from Glimpse of Susan Fleet's
