Page 82 of Through the Fire
Sam crumpled to the floor. Last one down. Alex smiled. The scene was set. Now all she needed to do was wait.
It didn’t take long. Just a few minutes after she’d zip-tied Sam and rolled him to the side of the room out of the way, there was a knock on the front door.
“It’s open,” she called, grabbing Dee by the arm and pulling her close again. It had worked so well the last time. Instead of pointing the gun at the little girl’s head this time, Alex kept the pistol low and hidden, but still prodding Dee’s spine as a reminder to behave. Dee might be small, but she’d been surprisingly resourceful in the past. Elena had heard the helicopter-crashing story.
The room went silent. The only sound was the click of the front door closing. There was no click of footsteps. Thanks to his most recent employment, he’d learned to move soundlessly.
He stepped into the doorway, his gaze immediately landing on her. His eyes widened, and he stopped abruptly.
“Alex?”
She stared at him. Seeing him felt different than she’d expected. He looked different—older, harder…sadder. She felt an unexpected surge of love at the sight of him, but she quickly smothered it with anger. She had plenty of that stored up.
His initial shock was fading, replaced by raw joy. “Alex? You’re alive?” He jerked forward a step, his arms coming up as if he was about to hug her.
She needed to put a stop to that. Lifting the gun, she pointed it at Dee’s temple. His ecstatic expression cracked, horror replacing it as he finally took in the scene—the bound and terrified women and children all staring at him, wanting him to save them yet again.
That was over. Mateo Espina wasn’t going to be saving anyone anymore.
“Hello, Big Brother.”
* * *
The drive to Jules’s house felt like it took forever.
Justice must have picked up on Kit’s unease, since he whined as he shifted in his seat, where he’d been contentedly watching the scenery for the entire ride. Absently, she stroked his ears, needing the contact as much as he did.
As they slowly made their way down Jules’s claustrophobic, snow-covered driveway, her tension increased with every curve in the road. There was no real reason to believe that anything was wrong, but her instincts were telling her in no uncertain terms that there was danger ahead. Darting a look toward Wes, she felt guilt bloom in her chest. In her hurry to get there, she’d dragged him into what could be a bad situation. It was too late for second thoughts, though. She just needed to do her best to keep him safe.
The snow-frosted house came into view, looking disarmingly like a Christmas postcard—in a slightly lopsided and weathered way. Three squad cars were parked in front, and Lexi, Viggy, and Xena barked from the back seats of their respective vehicles.
“I need you to go to the police station and get help,” Kit said.
Wes hesitated but then tipped his chin down in a nod. “I will.”
Despite the tension gripping her, she leaned closer and gave him a quick kiss, trying to soak in some of his steady calmness to soothe her jittery nerves. “Thank you.”
He kissed her back and then cupped her face in his hands. His face was solemn and visibly worried as he looked at her intently. “Be careful.” The words were simple, but his concern and fear for her safety were obvious. Kit appreciated that he was going for help as she’d asked. She knew it was bothering him not to back her up, to leave rather than protecting her, but he trusted her. He had confidence that she could do her job and that she’d keep herself safe.
“Always.” Pulling away from him was hard, but she had to go. People—their friends—needed her help. Giving Wes a final look, she squeezed around Justice and got out of the truck. She didn’t look back as he drove away. He trusted her to do her part, and she’d trust him to do his.
Sweeping her gaze over the front of the house, she saw the window coverings were closed tightly over all the downstairs windows. Climbing the front porch steps, she listened carefully, but she couldn’t hear anything. Even the three K9s that had been barking had fallen silent. With all three cops here, as well as at least some of the house’s residents, she felt there should’ve been some noise, even if everyone was inside. She debated knocking, but decided to just walk in. If nothing was happening, she’d apologize to Jules later. The element of surprise was more important right now than courtesy.
Carefully turning the knob, she pushed and met resistance. The dead bolt must’ve been engaged. Quietly moving back down the stairs and around the side of the house, she walked through the snow, checking all the windows for some sign of what was happening inside. She couldn’t see anyone.
The closer she got to the back door, the eerier the stillness seemed. The kids should be out playing. Grace should be stuffing a handful of snow down the back of Hugh’s coat while Sarah and Otto laughed from a safe distance. Jules should be watching her siblings with a smile, leaning back against Theo for warmth. There was something so wrong about the peacefulness of this early winter morning.
Silently, Kit moved up the steps, noting that the glass set in the wooden door was covered by a small, frilly curtain. She tried the knob, and it turned in her hand. She cracked the door open, moving slowly and as quietly as possible. The hinges let out a small squeak, and she froze, mentally cursing old houses and their noisy hardware.
When no one ripped the doorknob out of her hand, she pushed it open another inch, far enough that she had a good view of the empty kitchen. Kit slipped inside, gently closing the door behind her, and moved quickly through the deserted kitchen. She noted that there was half-eaten cereal getting soggy in abandoned bowls of milk on the table, as well as glasses of orange juice. Something—or someone—had interrupted their breakfast. Without taking her eyes off the hallway doorway, she slid a knife soundlessly out of the block, gripping it tightly in her hand. She crept past the basement door, freezing when she heard a whimper. It came again, and she identified it as a dog—Fifi, most likely. Mentally apologizing for leaving her locked up, Kit continued to the doorway.
In the hall, she could hear voices coming from the front of the house. Carefully creeping in their direction, she started to make out individual words and then sentences.
“You’re dead.”
Kit froze, recognizing the voice as Mr. Espina’s, the surprise witness from the day before. He didn’t say the words in a threatening way. Instead, his voice was full of grief and shock. Wishing she had her gun rather than a kitchen knife, Kit stopped next to the archway leading into the room where she could hear them talking. She needed to get a feel for what was going on before she simply blundered in, giving up any advantage of surprise.
“Disappointed?” That was Elena, but she sounded different. Instead of her usual hesitant, breathy tone, she was confident, almost brash.
