other families, he had to remove himself emotionally enough so that he could do his job.
* * *
Lainey held onto the door grip because Brice drove like he was driving a fire truck, hardly slowing at turns. Finally, they arrived to a sea of blue lights. Men poured out of vehicles, armed for battle.
They could have been ready to take Baghdad. They looked that scary all suited up in their special operations outfits, with khaki jump suits, bullet proof vests, helmets and what looked like machine guns swung over their shoulders. The expressions on their face said they were ready to go into war as well, serious, intent on their instructions.
Lainey felt like throwing up. All those guns would be aimed at the building where her little sister was being held.
When things got this crazy, there was no controlling the outcome. Anything could happen, things could go wrong, and Julie would be just a memory.
She wanted to run up the street and around the corner to the building where Julie was being held.
To do what, she wasn’t sure. But she wanted to do something.
More and more men kept piling out of police vehicles as well as their own personal vehicles, since many had been called from home.
An armored truck drove up with six men in the back, with large guns.
“There’s no service of any kind to this place,” an officer told Brice.
No phone, no power, no water. That indicated a vacant building.
On a hill overlooking the staging area, she saw John Canton in front of a camera, already going live from the scene.
No other news crews were there yet. This guy always seemed to have an inside source.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a line of SWAT officers advancing toward the building.
Two officers broke off and darted away into a wooded strip of land that ran along the back of the block, and she assumed continued on behind the building where Julie might be.
Lainey’s phone rang, and she jumped, every nerve in her body poised for a response to danger.
She yanked it out of her pocket, and saw that it was Julie’s phone that was calling.
She turned away from Brice. He was no longer on her side, having taken control of the situation, going against her opinion.
It wasn’t his sister who might end up dead.
She walked further away from Brice. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him watching her.
“Is it Julie?” he mouthed.
She shook her head no. She was on her own now. It was her and Julie, in a fight for survival.
Much as they’d been on their own since their parents’ death.
She punched the connect button. “Hello.”
A man’s muffled voice spoke back. “So, you told the cop, huh?”
He already knew they were sneaking up on the house. She whirled. Where was he and how much could he see?
“He was there when Julie called, and listened in on the conversation.”
“Talking to him can get your baby sister killed.”
Something about the voice, muffled as it was, sounded familiar. But the message sent chills through her.
“Please don’t hurt Julie.”
“I won’t if you give me what I want.”
Anything. She’d give him anything.
“I want you to bring me Moseman. Are you with me on this?” he said, his voice low and demanding.
“Yes.” Her voice came out weak and feeble.
“You’ll bring me Moseman?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“You’ll bring me Moseman and not tell the cop. And I’ll give you back your sister.”
“Yes. But give me back Julie first.” She waited, feeling like every breath must be loudly obvious to the person on the other end of the line.
“I’ll give her back. But, just so know, it would be very easy for me to get her again if you double cross me.”
“I won’t double cross you. I’ll find Moseman and bring him to you wherever you want.” She held her breath, hoping. Hoping. Such a pathetic word for what she felt, every muscle straining for an affirmative. Every inch of her skin wanting to hug Julie safely in her arms again.
“Okay,” he said.
She
* * *
Lainey held onto the door grip because Brice drove like he was driving a fire truck, hardly slowing at turns. Finally, they arrived to a sea of blue lights. Men poured out of vehicles, armed for battle.
They could have been ready to take Baghdad. They looked that scary all suited up in their special operations outfits, with khaki jump suits, bullet proof vests, helmets and what looked like machine guns swung over their shoulders. The expressions on their face said they were ready to go into war as well, serious, intent on their instructions.
Lainey felt like throwing up. All those guns would be aimed at the building where her little sister was being held.
When things got this crazy, there was no controlling the outcome. Anything could happen, things could go wrong, and Julie would be just a memory.
She wanted to run up the street and around the corner to the building where Julie was being held.
To do what, she wasn’t sure. But she wanted to do something.
More and more men kept piling out of police vehicles as well as their own personal vehicles, since many had been called from home.
An armored truck drove up with six men in the back, with large guns.
“There’s no service of any kind to this place,” an officer told Brice.
No phone, no power, no water. That indicated a vacant building.
On a hill overlooking the staging area, she saw John Canton in front of a camera, already going live from the scene.
No other news crews were there yet. This guy always seemed to have an inside source.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a line of SWAT officers advancing toward the building.
Two officers broke off and darted away into a wooded strip of land that ran along the back of the block, and she assumed continued on behind the building where Julie might be.
Lainey’s phone rang, and she jumped, every nerve in her body poised for a response to danger.
She yanked it out of her pocket, and saw that it was Julie’s phone that was calling.
She turned away from Brice. He was no longer on her side, having taken control of the situation, going against her opinion.
It wasn’t his sister who might end up dead.
She walked further away from Brice. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw him watching her.
“Is it Julie?” he mouthed.
She shook her head no. She was on her own now. It was her and Julie, in a fight for survival.
Much as they’d been on their own since their parents’ death.
She punched the connect button. “Hello.”
A man’s muffled voice spoke back. “So, you told the cop, huh?”
He already knew they were sneaking up on the house. She whirled. Where was he and how much could he see?
“He was there when Julie called, and listened in on the conversation.”
“Talking to him can get your baby sister killed.”
Something about the voice, muffled as it was, sounded familiar. But the message sent chills through her.
“Please don’t hurt Julie.”
“I won’t if you give me what I want.”
Anything. She’d give him anything.
“I want you to bring me Moseman. Are you with me on this?” he said, his voice low and demanding.
“Yes.” Her voice came out weak and feeble.
“You’ll bring me Moseman?”
“Yes. I promise.”
“You’ll bring me Moseman and not tell the cop. And I’ll give you back your sister.”
“Yes. But give me back Julie first.” She waited, feeling like every breath must be loudly obvious to the person on the other end of the line.
“I’ll give her back. But, just so know, it would be very easy for me to get her again if you double cross me.”
“I won’t double cross you. I’ll find Moseman and bring him to you wherever you want.” She held her breath, hoping. Hoping. Such a pathetic word for what she felt, every muscle straining for an affirmative. Every inch of her skin wanting to hug Julie safely in her arms again.
“Okay,” he said.
She
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