Page 139 of Blind Prophet

He holds a phone out, like it’s a bargaining chip. To hell with waiting. I snatch the phone from the man’s hand.

My vision blurs.

Ryan crowds me.

“Please. Enter the meeting room.”

I hear the man, but my focus and everything in me goes to the nightmare playing out on screen.

My vision blurs as I stare into the device. Caroline—bound with duct tape, a gash across her eyebrow, half her blonde hair darkened with blood.

The man shoves Ryan away. “That’s not for you to see.”

Her hands and ankles are bound.

I blink to clear the image.

Mother of god.

There’s a bomb strapped to her abdomen.

“What is it?” Ryan asks.

“They’ve got Caroline.”

The suit stretches his arms wide. “There’s no detonator. Video is rolling. You kill me, she dies. Ryan shoots me, they see, she dies. Any snipers? They get trigger-happy, and she dies. You get the gist?”

“What do you want?”

“Thank you, Mr. Moore. I was told you would be amenable after receiving the right information. The meeting room, please. Mr. Wolfgang won’t be needed.”

“I’ll wait,” Ryan says, eyes locked on mine.

Message received. He’s here if needed. He’ll marshal resources. Nick. Anyone he believes he can bring on without putting Caroline in danger. When I did research on Arrow Tactical, I learned that hostage situations are an area of expertise. He’ll know what to do.

I follow the man into a small, windowless room with a table, four chairs, and a monitor on the wall. The antiseptic smell of the facility hits me as we enter. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting hard shadows across the man’s face. My footsteps echo against polished concrete floors—each step bringing me closer to Caroline.

“May I have your phone?”

Reluctantly, I hand the device over. I’d like to shoot off a text to Nick, but that’s not an option.

If this man is indeed carrying, the suit doesn’t feel it’s necessary to show me his weapon.

The door clicks closed, and the screen on the wall flicks to life.

Caroline’s bloody face comes into view.

Her eyes…watery.

Something’s off.

The tears aren’t from fear.

No, there’s something about the way she’s looking at the camera.

At the person holding the camera.

Who is it?

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