Page 33 of The Girl on Hallow's Eve

I think we’re looking for someone who did this for a very specific reason and who will go to a great extent to conceal who they are. As much as finding that person and ensuring that they face the closest thing possible to justice for what they did is my ultimate goal, I have to put it on the back burner for right now. First is clearing the mall, finding the victims, and saving as many of them as I can.

One step at a time. One breath at a time. I can’t think beyond this second, this square of tile I’m standing on. My hand around my gun, my eyes focused on the uniformed officers gathering around me. I take command.

“This is the only entrance that will be utilized during the sweep. I need an officer standing by inside in direct communication with emergency responders outside. No one leaves without going through that officer and either going to the hospital or going for interview. No one goes directly home. Does everyone understand?”

“Yes,” several overlapping voices respond.

“Why should we listen to you?” one of them asks.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I am Agent Griffin. FBI. You’ll listen to me because it’s your sworn duty to protect the people of this community and do anything in your power to defend the law and the victims. So I will take that question as you volunteering to stand guard at the door. Thank you for your service.”

The man’s face darkens, but he doesn’t argue. He seems to know he doesn’t have the room to say anything and that this is not the time to try to make a point.

“As for the rest of you, every inch of this mall needs to be cleared.Every store, bathroom, corner. Every space where someone could be should be fully checked and cleared. Keep your radios open. EMTs can’t come in until the area is checked and secured, so note the location of victims that are unable to get themselves out. Any that can get out as well as any who are uninjured should be escorted through this exit. Move quickly, but be thorough. We can’t miss anything.”

The team breaks, spreading out through the space with weapons drawn, in groups of two to keep each other safe and to provide extra hands in case things need to be moved or victims carried. Sam and I stay together. We move together seamlessly without having to speak. Without hesitation, we move to the upper floor.

By the time the first store is checked, the victim count is up to three. I get out into the main area of the mall and the flashing lights spinning across the floor and music throbbing in my head infuriates me.

“Somebody get this off,” I command. “Get the lights on. Now.”

“None of us know how to do that,” Sam points out.

“Then we need to find someone who does. There are people dead and dying out here and I don’t need a damn soundtrack to find them. I want to be able to see where I’m going and hear if anyone is calling for help.”

He gets on his radio and spreads the word to find any employee who might be able to control the sound system and lights. We continue to the next store and a few minutes later, the mall goes silent and the lights burst on. The suddenly intense light aches in my eyes and I have to take a second to readjust to the quiet and the flashing, swirling lights being gone. When I feel steady again, we keep going. As we search the bathrooms, dressing rooms, and stock room, finding three uninjured survivors, I listen with a sinking heart to the transmissions from the rest of the team spreading throughout the mall.

The victims add up, the descriptions of the carnage getting worse as each store is announced as clear. Sam and I move quickly across the mall until we’re faced with the fountain. It was so glorious when we first saw it. Now it’s spattered with blood, the water red. A body floats in it and the floor is scattered with several others suffering gunshot wounds, their blood smeared by the footsteps of the survivors in their desperate bid to escape. I hear a deep groan and realize one of them is still alive.

“Sam, call in the EMTs. We have a gunshot victim alive. He needs attention as soon as possible.”

I’ve found the man struggling with a shot through his chest just beneath his shoulder. I can’t see if there is an exit wound, but I don’t want to move him to find out. It could cause even more extensive damage and right now my focus is keeping him alive. I push his shirt up and use the gathered fabric to apply pressure to the wound in an effort to lessen the bleeding.

“Oh, god. What… what’s happening here?”

I look up and see Cary Rainey running into the atrium. He is clearly unhurt, no blood anywhere on him. No injuries.

“Where did you come from?” I demand. “Where were you?”

He hesitates, seeming to search for the right words.

“I left,” he finally admits. “When the party was fully underway and it didn’t seem like anybody was going to need me anymore, I left. But I just got notification that something was happening here and that there were emergency responders in the parking lot. What happened?”

“How did you get in?”

“I have the keys. I unlocked one of the outer doors,” he says. “There are people on the ground. Blood…”

“Shit,” I say, cutting him off. “Shit! Sam, get me an officer. Whoever is closest. I need them here now.”

Sam radios and seconds later one of the officers runs into view. He looks shocked when he sees the bodies. He’s young. I doubt he has encountered a single murder, much less anything of this magnitude. It’s a lot to take in and handle, but we don’t have the time to try to process. This needs to be handled and it needs to be handled now.

“I need you to go with Mr. Rainey to whatever door he opened and secure it. Make sure no one has gotten out and if they have, bring them to the team outside.”

The officer nods and Rainey hesitates a second, but then follows him away.

“Emma,” Sam says, pointing up toward the mezzanine around the edge of the atrium. “This is near where George McCarthy and his cameraman were.”

I look into the face of the man on the floor beneath me. “Can you move your arms?”

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