by James Hunt
Nearing the alley, Sam slowed, trying to get a handle on her breathing as the cool evening air stung the cuts along her legs. She spun from the corner, gun aimed, listening to the sounds of the kidnapper’s footsteps as he disappeared down the next street.
Sam kept up the pursuit, catching up with the runner as he weaved between streets and down side alleys. The longer it dragged out, the more her muscles burned, but she pushed the fatigue aside, knowing what would happen if she failed. But she couldn’t break her promise to Anna. Not again.
Once the distance between their gap had shortened to less than twenty yards, Sam raised her pistol, poised to shoot, but couldn’t get a clear shot on the run without risking hitting Anna. She had to get closer.
Their chase brought them to the shores of Lake Washington, and during the sprint, Sam kept glancing up toward the night sky, wondering where in the hell air support was. They needed to be tracking this guy.
Finally, after one last jarring right turn from an alley, the kidnapper kept a straight path, and his destination looked to end at the water’s edge.
“Stop!” Sam planted her feet, having a clear line of sight on the kidnapper now, but her orders went unheeded, just as they had been the dozen other times she screamed. Her breath had grown labored, and though she gripped her pistol with both hands, she couldn’t keep her aim steady. “I said freeze, goddammit, or I’ll shoot!”
But the kidnapper never broke stride as he grew closer and closer to the water, which looked like nothing more than a pitch-black abyss. The quick lapping of the waves against the seawall matched the same hastened pace of Sam’s breathing as she tried to force her aim steady.
Sam squeezed the pistol tighter, trying to force it into submission. The sight wavered between the man’s back and the water, and then his shoulder, and then the ground, and then the water again, and then back. The target grew smaller the longer she waited, but she’d only get one shot, and she didn’t want to risk hitting Anna.
The faint sound of choppers and sirens began somewhere in the distance. Backup was on the way. Where did he think he could go? Was he going to swim to the other side? Drown himself and the girl?
The thoughts spread across Sam’s mind in rapid-fire synapses, all while she was still trying to steady her aim. The sight passed across his shoulder, the shot clear but only for a moment, and she squeezed the trigger.
The bang of the gunshot and the kidnapper’s leap over the edge of the seawall were simultaneous, and he and Anna disappeared.
Sam hurried forward, the sirens in the backdrop of the city growing louder and louder. Her heart pounded twice as quickly as her feet did against the pavement, and then she heard the sputtering startup of the boat engine come to life and then roar. The engine’s whine drowned out everything else. Including her screams.
Sam skidded to a stop at the seawall’s ledge and raised her pistol to fire at the small watercraft disappearing into the pitch black of the lake. Knowing she was out of range, Sam lowered her pistol, the noise from the boat engine fading and the sirens of the authorities growing behind her.
But Sam stood there, frozen, on the edge of the seawall, her eyes following the wake of the boat until there was nothing left to see.
10
The police vehicles had already surrounded the marshals building by the time Grant came to a screeching halt in Matt’s BMW. Matt was still in the backseat, and Grant stepped out before the police even spotted the body in the back.
He scanned the crowd, watching the body language of the officers, listening for any news over the radio crackle that flitted into the open air. The parking lot had transformed from a barren landscape to a packed house. But from the bowed heads, and loose, tense chatter, Grant already knew the outcome of what happened.
“Hey! Buddy, where you going?” A hand on Grant’s shoulder yanked him backward, and out of instinct, Grant reached for the badge that was no longer there... that hadn’t been there for over four years.
It was a street cop who couldn’t have had more than three years with the department but had that practiced stare that most officers learned after a few close calls on the beat. The kid had a good one too, detailed down to every crease and line across his face.
“Where is Marshal Cohen?” Grant asked.
The cop gave him a look up and down, and then Grant watched his partner walk over to the BMW.
“Holy shit!” The partner turned, hand on his pistol. “There’s a dead guy back here!”
The three-year veteran drew his pistol, and Grant kept his hands at his sides, not moving even before the young gun spit the order. “Stay right where you—”
“Enough!” It was Hickem’s voice that drew their attention, but it was the big man’s size that caused them to lower their weapons. “He’s with us. Special investigator.” Hickem flicked his gaze toward the car. “Sam filled me in. Is he in the back?”
Grant nodded. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but he should still be alive.”
Hickem walked over with three of his own people toward the car, pulling the traitor from the backseat. “We need a medic over here!” They propped Matt up against the car, staining the pewter paint job with blotches of red.
Grant kept his eyes on Hickem. Was it some kind of a game? Or was the big brute really not in on it? Before he had a chance to ask, another hand grabbed his shoulder. When Grant spun around, he was staring into the eyes of a short man with a head of thick grey hair buzzed into a flat top that was so proper it could act as a shelf.
“Director Multz.” The man shook Grant’s hand without Grant even offering and then gave him a hard yank to get him to follow him, which Grant did, falling into stride right behind him. “Sam told me what you told her. She’s inside. I think it’s best if we talk alone.”
Grant looked back at Hickem. A pair of medics was attending to Matt, whom they’d already loaded on a stretcher. He didn’t like the fact that Hickem was going to question him first. But he knew that no one else here had the authority to do it. And Grant had a feeling that Hickem was only going to share the information he wanted to share, and not the stuff they probably needed.
Grant followed Multz into the Marshal building and down a hallway on the first floor. Multz entered one of the offices, and when Grant stepped inside, he saw Sam with her back toward the door, looking out a window.
“Found him,” Multz said, shutting the door behind him.
It was just the three of them, and when Grant realized no one else would be joining them, he understood the importance of what would be said here.
“Sam,” Multz said, taking a seat behind his desk and folding his arms in a practiced gesture over the table. “Sam?”
She finally turned, and the first thing Grant noticed was the change in her eyes. There was a glaze that covered them. It wasn’t one of fear, or grief, or rage. It was almost of disbelief. But then Grant finally recognized it. Doubt.
“You were right,” Sam said. “We should have looked closer. I don’t know how you made it out of there alive, but the girl is gone. We need to get her back, and the family, if they’re still alive.”
“Does that mean you’re bringing me on board?” Grant knew it was ultimately the director’s decision, but he kept his gaze on Sam.
“I don’t know who else on Hickem’s team was involved,” Sam answered. “Hell, I don’t know if Hickem was the one who ordered it, but I know that we’ll still have to work with him.” She stepped forward, an intimate need to her motion as she drew closer. “I need someone I can trust.”
“You’ll be working as a special investigative liaison,” Multz said. “You will report directly to Marshal Cohen and me. No one else.”
Grant cocked his eyebrow. “Special investigative liaison?”
Multz shrugged. “We wanted it to sound somewhat official. But I want to make it clear that you are here to analyze and predict. No fieldwork. We just need you to help us find the girl.”
“I’ll need access to everything,” Grant
said. “And that includes any dirty laundry you might not want exposed. I’m only good when I can get all of the facts.”
“You’ll have everything you need,” Sam answered. “We’re setting up a command station down the hall.” She checked her phone. “First meeting is in fifteen minutes.”
Grant nodded, taking a breath, but remembered what Mocks had told him about moving on, about getting out of neutral. A part of him didn’t think this was what she meant, but for the first time since Ellen passed, or since he was kicked off the force, Grant felt purpose flood through him.
He looked at the watch on his wrist then switched the mode to timer. He clicked start, and the first few seconds wound past. “Let’s get started.”
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!
Writing has always been a passion of mine and it’s incredibly gratifying and rewarding whenever you give me an opportunity to let you escape from your everyday surroundings and entertain the world that is your imagination.
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The mystery continues with Missing Person: Book 1 Click Here
With a family missing, and after four years off the police force, Chase Grant finds himself back in the midst of a criminal investigation. But as he teams up with the FBI and the U.S. Marshals working this high-profile case, Grant will be forced to confront a past that he thought he was prepared to deal with, but if he can’t overcome his memories, then it could mean the end of a missing family.
The mystery continues with Missing Person: Book 1 Click Here
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