Page 114 of Ezra
Ezra was there for me when I needed him. It’s my time to woman up and help however I can.
My mother barely holds it together as we storm into NCPD headquarters’ reception area. When we ask to see Jayne Rose, the woman behind the desk makes a quick call and then directs us down a hallway. Jayne makes her way toward us, staring in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Did the chief call you?”
“Why would the chief call us?” I ask as dread locks itself in the pit of my stomach, hoping I don’t already know why. But I do. It’s not just Ezra that’s in trouble. Somehow, it’s Dad too. Coincidence is looking less and less likely as the seconds pass by.
“Shit.” Jayne checks around her, lowering her voice. “Look, I broke protocol and reached out to you as a friendfor Ezra’s sake, but you’re going to have to be patient and let us do our jobs now. All right?”
“Please let us know what’s going on,” Mom implores.
Jayne glances between us and then sighs. “TerraPura has Ezra. And we’ve reason to believe they have your husband too. Ezra uploaded some footage to his cloud before we lost all connection entirely.”
It feels like the floor has been swept out from under me. All my worst fears tear through me like bullets. It’s miraculous I’m still standing. Mom grips my arm, and I rest my hand over hers as I swallow the desire to burst into tears and lose my mind.
“I told him,” she chokes. “I told him he should’ve stayed with me at the hotel, but he insisted on going home.”
“What will they do to Ezra?” I ask Jayne. “Will they—will they make him into a?—”
“I don’t know, Kat, and I don’t want to think about it. Neither should you. All we can do is stay out of the way and let the right people do their jobs. I’m sorry,” Jayne says. “Stay in the waiting room where it’s safe. When we know something, you’ll know something.”
Minutes feel like an eternity as my mother and I sit and wait on a small bench, fidgeting and shifting in our seats, our eyes glued to our phones as we try to stream whatever live broadcast we can get our hands on. Everyone is shaken about what’s happening.
It’s clear TerraPura is getting brazen. I can’t just sit around anymore.
My phone rings, and I snatch it so quickly that I fumble with it. “Yes? Hello?”
“Katrina.” I’ve never heard Deion sound so serious, and I know why. Everything is on the line right now.
“Please tell me you have them,” I say softly, taking my mother’s hand and squeezing.
“I don’t, and the situation just got more complicated. Your friend, Zoey Meyer, is the one behind all this.”
My feet are cemented to the floor as I stare ahead in shock. I can’t speak for a moment, the name too heavy in my mouth. “Zoey?” I repeat, almost dream-like.
“I’m sorry, Kat. I’ve exhausted every other option. She’s not responding to our professional negotiators. I can’t get her parents or her boyfriend on the phone. For all I know, they’re in on this. I need you here. I need you to try to reason with her before people with more sway than me start ordering others to pull triggers.”
He doesn’t need to explain the rest to me. Of course, Chief Jacobs, Commissioner Winters, and other people on the force wouldn’t care if they lit up an android. Their android. He’s just a machine. He doesn’t matter.
“Katrina?” Deion says softly, and I realize I’ve gone silent.
“I’ll be right there.” I end the call, shifting my handbag on my shoulder as I turn to my mom. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be back.”
“Wait, where are you going?” my mother calls after me as I turn on my heel and flee the precinct. “Katrina!”
I’m not about to answer questions or let her talk me out of this. I can’t sit around, hoping and waiting for Ezra to return to me, or for Dad to be safe. I’ve never believed in a higher power, and I’m not about to entrust the rest of my life to prayers.
If I don’t act now, I don’t deserve him. And I never will.
I get into my car and take off as fast as I can go, driving toward the bridge. What used to be beautiful architecture, a symbol of pride for the city, now seems more and more ominous in the dark the closer I get to it. The night is pitch black, except for the neon lights of the city.
On the other side of the bridge, there’s a barricade. Blue holo-tape closes off the road, and behind it are several police vehicles, and more keep showing up, soaring past me. When I finally slow down and park, I all but fly out the car toward the two officers tasked with turning people around.
They see me coming and intercept me. “Ma’am, you can’t be here,” one of them says.
“My name is Katrina Carson,” I interject before they can continue. “Detective Washington called me.”
They don’t believe me. I imagine communication isn’t the best right now. Everything is so hectic. “You can’t be here,” the officer repeats sternly. “Get back in your car.”
