Page 87 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
“The captain had you knocked out! He said—”
“Haven’t you ever heard of a double-blind bluff? Jesus Christ, I told him you all needed more training. The whole thing was a setup. You finding me, me being a ‘prisoner.’” He air-quoted the word. “There are traitors in the organization, and the captain wasn’t sure if they were in the militia or with the law enforcement on our side. It was my job to go deep undercover and smoke ’em out.” At this point, both men had lowered their weapons. “Obviously, I’ve been out of contact, so tell me, is there going to be a pickup to transport these prisoners, or are they being sequestered here?”
“Se-what?”
Van Alstyne placed his hand on his small-of-back holster and pressed forward, a tired guy cracking his lumbar. Hadley tensed. “You two. All I can say is Knox, now!”
She pushed the guy in front of her right over his crate. He shouted, fell onto the metal surface, rifle clattering, and then she was straddling him, gun out, flipping him over with a rush of adrenaline-fueled strength. She kneed him in the back and yanked one arm around, then the other, and had him in zip cuffs before the echo of his yell had died. She spun around, but the chief didn’t need any help; Dillon was trussed like a Christmas goose, cuffed arm and ankle. He wheezed slightly as he pushed himself back into a standing position. He turned and glanced down to the man she’d secured. “Good job.”
“Thanks.”
“Everybody okay?” Clare touched her husband’s arm and reached toward Hadley.
“I’m fine.” She holstered her sidearm and moved toward the office door.
“Hang on.” Dillon was threatening and cursing inarticulately. Thechief ignored him to crouch next to her guy, whose face was pressed against the grating strips. He stared at Van Alstyne, wide-eyed. “Austin, are there any booby traps or alarms inside the office?”
“No.” He pointed his chin in the direction of his zip-tied comrade, who was promising a bloody end to them all. “Is this part of the secret double blind?” he whispered.
The chief winked and held a finger to his lips. “Where’s Cal?”
“He went with the rest of ’em.”
“To a new destination, or are they still going to…”
“No, still Albany, as far as I know.”
The chief’s face changed. He leaned closer and closed his fist around Austin’s collar. “What do you know? Who did you tell?”
“Nothin’, I swear! I wasn’t in the action team and nobody tells me nothing! I’m not the traitor! I couldn’t be!”
Damn, the chief was good at that. Hadley’s high-alert, still spiking after the action moments before, almost calmed with her admiration for his interrogation technique.
Reverend Clare, on the other hand, was even more wound up. “Russ,please. Can we go get Tiny?”
He stood up. Even Hadley could hear his knees cracking. “Yeah, of course. I don’t think—”
Reverend Clare didn’t wait to hear the rest. She flung open the door and stopped abruptly, blocking the way for the rest of them. “Kevin?”
Hadley’s heart lurched sideways in her chest. She and the chief both lunged for the doorway, pushing Reverend Clare into the room, half stumbling after her.
She vaguely registered Tiny March behind a cluttered desk, but her attention was all on Flynn. He was on the floor, leaning against a battered filing cabinet, his arms drawn behind him and his ankles bound with zip ties. A wide strip of duct tape stretched from ear to ear, covering his mouth.
Hadley could hear Tiny weeping and Clare consoling her, but it seemed to be coming from far away.
The chief knelt next to Flynn. “You look like hell, but I’m glad tosee you, kid.” He twisted to look at her. “Knox, did you bring your cutter?”
She couldn’t speak. She shook her head.
“See if there’s anything in the desk we can use to release him.”
Flynn shook his head. His hair, grown longer, slid off his forehead, and she could see the purpling around one eye and a cut high on his cheek.
“Okay, at least let’s get this off you. You’re gonna be losing some of your beard here—you ready?”
Flynn nodded. He made a sharp, loud sound that turned into a roar as the chief ripped the tape off his face. “Goddamn, that hurt!”
Van Alstyne dropped the tape and briskly rubbed Flynn’s face where the adhesive had torn away hairs. Hadley, remembering Brazilian waxes of her youth, winced in empathy.
