Page 43 of Wishing Stone

When there was no answer at the house, frustration began to set in.

“Damn! Why the hell do we have all of these phone lines if nobody can answer them?” I muttered to myself as I slammed back against the back of my chair. Then a new thought occurred to me.

If nobody is answering the house phone, then perhaps nobody is home. That would mean…

No. She promised. Krystina wouldn’t leave the house.

Or would she?

Maybe she just went for a walk outside.

I quickly grabbed my cell to pull up the phone finder app for Krystina. A few minutes later, her location populated on the screen—and she was not just out for a walk. In fact, she was nowhere near our house in Westchester.

She was at Stone’s Hope.

What the hell is she doing there?

Before I could even process that my wife had defied me, my cell began to ring. Hale’s name showed up on the caller ID.

“Talk to me, Hale. Why the fuck is Krystina at the shelter and not safe at home?”

“She’s at the shelter? Stone’s Hope shelter?”

“Is there another shelter she’d be at?” I snapped.

“Well, no. It’s just that…shit!” Hale cursed, but there was no missing the alarm in his voice.

“It’s just what, Hale? What’s going on?”

“I just got off the phone with the police. It wasn’t a false alarm. There’s a hostage situation over there.”

All the air seemed to escape my lungs. “A hostage situation?”

“I don’t know all the details. The police didn’t tell me more than that. I’m headed there now.”

Heavy pressure pushed down on my chest, and I began to shake with fury as suppressed memories broke free.

Krystina in a trunk. Bloodied. Broken.

The incessant beep-beep of her bedside monitors in the hospital echoed in my mind, reminding me of her lifeless form and of how I’d almost lost her once before.

“Hale,” I choked out, but I didn’t need to explain what I was thinking. He understood because he’d been there the last time. He’d been witness to me sitting vigil next to Krystina’s hospital bed for nineteen long days after her ex-boyfriend and my deranged ex-brother-in-law had kidnaped her. I couldn’t live through that again. Not ever again.

“I’m five minutes away from Cornerstone Tower,” Hale said hurriedly. “I’ll pick you up at the main doors.”

17

Alexander

Time seemed to move in slow motion as Hale weaved in and out of traffic, through the city streets, toward Stone’s Hope. During the drive, I had a strange sense of déjà vu—as if Hale and I had been here before. In a way, we had been, and I could only pray the outcome would be different this time, and that Krystina was somehow free from the dangers at the shelter.

A light snow had begun to fall, making the roads slippery and slowing our progress. The forecasters predicted three inches tonight, and I expected it wouldn’t be long before the snow became heavier. My fingers drummed impatiently on the door panel as Hale navigated us closer to the shelter.

When the building finally came into view, my heart was pounding in my ears, and the air seemed to buzz. A cold numbness spread through me when I saw the red and blue flashing lights from several police cars blocking the street in front of Stone’s Hope.

Hale got as close as he could until he was forced to park. He had barely killed the engine, but I’d already wrenched open the passenger door handle. Jumping out of the car, I rushed toward the shelter.

A metal barricade had been erected to keep the small crowd that had gathered away from the building. Men in uniform gathered near one of the cop cars. I tried to discern what they were doing as I approached, only to conclude that they appeared to be doing nothing—absolutely nothing.

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