Page 7 of Lost Love Cove 3
Dana tilted her head and looked at Trent’s bruised jaw. “You may want to put some ice on that,” she advised him, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile before turning back to Alisha. “Can you give us some details about the man? Where were you when he hit you?”
“I told you our location,” Trent reminded Dana. “I called it in from there.”
“Yes, but he could’ve dragged Ms. Parker there,” Dana pointed out, then looked at Alisha once again. “Any details you can remember will help us.”
“The man had a dark baseball cap on. I didn’t get a good look at his face until I spun around right before he hit me.” Alisha moved in her chair. “He had a scar that ran down the side of his face and brown eyes with a short beard and mustache.”
“Would you have been able to tell what age group?” Dana asked her.
“I’d say maybe mid-fifties!” Alisha’s words surprised Trent. “The crow’s feet around his eyes, grey side burns, and streaks inhis dark beard indicated as such. Then there was his hands.” She caught Dana’s eye. “Usually, the hands always give away a person’s age.” Her jaw clenched. “And I got a good look at them.”
Dana listened without interruption, nodding once or twice, her gaze flicking occasionally to Trent. He knew that look—professional concern mixed with the silent calculation of how much to reveal.
When Alisha finished, Dana leaned back. “We’ll start with the area around the theater and pull up the street camera feeds in ten-minute increments.” She picked up the phone and dialled, barking the exact order into the phone.
Trent and Alisha could hear the young agent’s voice on the other side of the line. “Yes, Deputy Chief. I am pulling them now.”
Dana replaced the receiver and stood. “Shall we go to the bullpen?” She indicated for them to join her.
Trent and Alisha rose to follow Dana from her office into the bullpen that was buzzing. Monitors shifted from grids of data to shaky, rain-streaked camera feeds. Figures moved across the screens, umbrellas bending against the wind, headlights cutting across slick asphalt.
“There,” one agent called, zooming in and pointing to the large monitor that dominated one end of the room.
Trent felt Alisha stiffen as her worst nightmare played out for them to see on the screen. But you couldn’t see the man’s face. It was like he knew where all the cameras were. He punched Alisha, who went down, then grabbed a kicking and screaming Cody and Maggie, dragging them away from Alisha’s unconscious body.
Alisha gasped and reached out, clutching Trent’s arm, causing his pulse to quicken, but he ignored it and kept his eyes glued to the screen and concentrated on the anger and fear coiling through him at the sight of Maggie and Cody being pulled away against their will.
“Freeze it,” Dana ordered. The screen stilled. “Track that man. Find a camera or reflection that gives us a good look at his face.”
They followed the figure through a few feeds, tracing him down the crowded sidewalks where people were rushing to get to a shelter from the storm. The man slipped into the mall with a crowd that had probably decided it was a safer option than being outside and trying to leg it to their vehicles.
Inside the mall, the camera quality sharpened. Maggie and Cody were struggling against the man’s grip until, remarkably, she stopped, her one hand shifted behind her back, and her fingers moved deliberately.
Trent’s chest swelled with pride. “She’s signaling to anyone who notices that they are kids in distress.” He gave a tight smile. “I taught her that.”
Alisha’s head turned toward him. “That’s a smart thing to have taught her.” She swallowed. “All I taught Cody was his code words of the day for school or whenever he went on a school trip or outing.”
“That’s also a good thing to do,” Trent told her.
The feed shifted again. The man yanked them through the crowd, but then there was a sudden movement. A woman stepped into frame, blocking his path.
Alisha sucked in a breath, and before Trent could see the woman’s face, he turned to look at Alisha. “Do you recognize her?”
Alisha nodded. “That’s… that’s Paula Day. She lives on Sunset Keys.”
Trent’s head shot around as he saw the man try to step around Paula, who was not budging. She repositioned herself in front of the man again. The kids were clearly trying to pull themselves free of the man’s iron grip on their wrists. Paula was gesturing sharply, her face flushed with fury. Though there was no audio, her body language was unmistakable—she was shouting. People who passed by turned to look, their attention caught despite the storm warnings echoing overhead.
The man hesitated, tightening his grip on Cody’s and Maggie’s wrists. Then, Cody’s head dipped and he bit down hard on the man’s hand, managing to break free as the grip loosened. The man could be seen cursing and jerking his hand away just as Maggie spun and kicked his shin, followed by Paula swinging her oversized purse with startling force. As the man’s face twisted to the side from the force of the blow, he crumpled to the ground, going down hard. Paula grabbed both children’s hands and, dashing off, disappeared into a blind spot between two kiosks and vanished from the camera’s eye.
“Did Paula just—” Alisha whispered, stunned.
“Knock the man unconscious with whatever she has in that oversized purse?” the one young agent finished. “Heck yeah!”
The bullpen erupted into applause.
“I must call her,” Alisha uttered. Her hands were shaking as she pulled out her phone. “Oh no. I have no signal.”
“You won’t,” the young agent who had been tracking the man told her. “There is no signal down here.”
