Page 85 of Hidden Hero

Jeremy’s ability to breathe abandoned him as he watched her move. Step by step, she neared the door, Buford’s figure shadowing hers.

“We’re nearing the door,” Cora said, her voice trembling slightly.

Through the window, their eyes met. Jeremy’s heart clenched as her gaze widened in recognition. He tried to offer her a reassuring look, but he knew it probably came off more as a grimace.Hold on, Cora. Just a little longer.

37

Cora inched toward the door, every nerve in her body screaming at the feel of the cold gun barrel pressed against her back. The air in the lab felt suffocating, heavy with tension and the sterile scent of chemicals. She didn’t know precisely what Buford intended. Still, their strained conversation with law enforcement over the past thirty minutes gave her an unsettling glimpse into his fractured mind.

At first, her concern had been his actions—those that had caused the tragic deaths of several elderly residents in their community. Now, all of that seemed secondary. His mental state, so fragile it seemed to teeter on the edge of collapse, was her immediate worry.

Keeping her gaze locked straight ahead, she saw Jeremy through the narrow window in the lab door. His expression was a mix of fear and fierce determination, his jaw tight, and his eyes speaking the words he couldn’t say aloud.Hold on. Don’t give up.

They were just feet from the door when Buford suddenly prodded her back with the gun. She stumbled slightly but caught herself, heart pounding as he barked, “What?”

Cora flinched at his sharp tone but kept her eyes forward. She risked another glance at Jeremy, whose confusion was now etched across his face.

Her voice was calm and soothing. “What is it? Let’s just keep moving toward the door, okay?” she murmured, twisting her head slightly, hoping to keep him focused on moving forward.

Buford’s grip on her arm tightened as his entire body trembled. “Stop talking!” he snapped, his voice a wild, panicked edge.

“Okay,” she said quickly, her tone placating. “I won’t say anything.”

“What? What do you want from me?” His voice rose to a desperate pitch, echoing off the walls of the small room.

Cora’s stomach clenched. He wasn’t talking to her or anyone outside the room. Her heart hammered in her chest as she realized he might be hearing voices, arguing with someone who wasn’t there. She didn’t dare turn to see what he was doing, but the erratic tension in his voice told her all she needed to know—he was unraveling fast.

They halted abruptly, about ten feet from the door. Buford’s fingers dug into her arm as he shook his head violently. “I don’t know what you’re saying!” he cried out, voice trembling. His terror was almost palpable now, his body shaking against hers.

Cora’s gaze darted to Jeremy through the glass. His brows were drawn low, concern deepening in his eyes. She tilted her head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Buford. He wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t even looking at the door. His head was turned toward the autopsy table.

Cora swallowed hard, her mouth dry. The stark sight of a body laid bare on the autopsy table was enough to rattle anyone unfamiliar with death’s clinical reality. For Buford, already teetering on the brink of psychosis, it seemed to be too much.

“Pastor Grissley,” she said softly, her voice as gentle as she could make it. “We need to move toward the door. Let’s get out of here, okay?”

He yanked her backward so hard she stumbled, her shoes skidding on the tiled floor. “No!” he shouted, dragging her toward the table, his breathing ragged as he stared down at the body. “I don’t know you. You can’t blame me for this. I don’t know why you brought me here to this unholy place!”

“Pastor Grissley,” she tried again, her voice firmer this time. “We need to go back to the door. This isn’t where we need to be.”

He ignored her, his wild eyes fixed on the body. “Open your eyes!” he screamed, spittle flying. “I know you’re looking at me. Open your eyes right now!”

The intercom crackled, and the negotiator’s calm voice filled the room. “Pastor Grissley, please return to the door. Bring Cora with you and come back. We’re here to help you.”

But the words only seemed to inflame him further. “You want me there! You want me to end up like him!” Buford’s grip on her arm tightened, his nails digging into her flesh. “You want to put me on that table and do to me what you’ve done to him!”

Cora’s breath hitched. His delusions were spiraling. Every instinct screamed that she didn’t have much time. Glancing at the window, she locked eyes with Jeremy, silently pleading for a sign, anything to tell her what to do.

Then Buford threw her away from him, causing her to stumble as he lifted the gun. “You’re not gonna take me!” he roared.

Time slowed.

Cora didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. With a sharp, deliberate motion, she threw the scalpel like a dart. It hit and embedded in his upper arm. The blade bit deep, and Buford howled in pain, the gun clattering to the floor.

Chaos erupted.

The lab doors burst open, and law enforcement poured in, shouting orders as they subdued Buford. The noise, the motion, it all blurred into a cacophony. Cora barely registered the hands pulling her away, the voices calling her name.

And then there was Jeremy. He was there, his strong arms wrapping around her like a lifeline. His body was trembling, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he held her tight.

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