Page 32 of The Girl on Hallow's Eve

I run up to the door and nod to try to reassure him. I can see blood on his clothes and terror in his eyes. I need to get in there.

Shoving my gun into its holster, I first test the door just in case, then start in my efforts to break the glass.

“Get me a crowbar!” I scream to Sam. I don’t want to leave the door. The man is standing close to it now, his hands pressed against it, his eyes fixed on mine as he sobs. I put my hands up against the glass to offer him some kind of comfort knowing I’m standing here. “I’m going to get you out.”

Sam comes back a few moments later with a crowbar from the trunk and I wave at the man to get him to step back from the door. I pull back and smash the solid metal piece against the glass with every bit of my strength. It resists it and I try again. This time, the tiniest hint of fault lines appear in the glazing on the top layer of the glass.

“They’re on their way,” Sam says. “Let me try.”

He takes the bar from my hand and smashes the glass a few times. It starts to give, but not fast enough. Knowing the risk but feeling it’s worth it, I take my gun from the holster again. I wave at the man and shout for him to get as far from the door as he can. I wait until he’s a good distance back before raising my gun.

“Sam, move,” I say.

“Emma, what are you doing?” he asks. “You don’t know what the glass is going to do.”

“I know,” I say.

Bracing myself, I aim directly at the weakened area of the glass and fire three rounds. The bullets embed themselves in the glass and send more fracture lines skidding across the door. Putting my gun away, I go up to the door and kick it hard. The glass gives way after the third impact. Sam runs up and helps me yank away pieces of glass held together by the shatter-resistant coating meant to prevent dangerous showers of shards in the event the glass is breached.

As soon as the man sees the glass getting pulled away, he runs toward us and tries to climb out. We have to tell him to back up and let us keep widening the hole so he can finally get through. When he does, his knees give out and he lands on the sidewalk. I crouch down in front of him, taking his shoulders in my hands and looking into his face.

“Are you alright?” I ask. “Are you hurt?”

He lifts the hem of his shirt to show a bullet wound near his ribs. He’s been moving on pure adrenaline.

“My wife,” he gasps out. “She’s in there.”

“I’ll find her,” I say. “More help is coming.”

Handing him off to Sam, I climb through the glass and into hell.

Sam stays outside with the man who escaped the mall until the parking lot fills with the sirens and lights of ambulances and police cars. I’m deep into the store by the time I hear his name calling me from the entrance.

“There’s another body in the main aisle,” I tell him. “A woman. Looks like she was stabbed.”

“Backup is here. I got the victim’s name. Brent Thornton. He’s on his way to the hospital. I asked him a few questions, but he didn’t have a lot to say. The guy had on a hood and his face was covered.”

“A mask?” I ask.

“Not exactly. He said it looked like just a piece of black fabric stretched across his face,” he says.

“Like a full bodysuit performers wear,” I suggest. “They completely conceal their entire body. Their face and everything, but they can actually see through the fabric. When Bellamy and I went to that dance performance they were wearing them.”

“Sounds strange,” Sam says.

“I think that’s really the least of our concerns right now,” I say. “Did he have any other injuries other than the gunshot?”

“Some basic bruises and scrapes from falling and running into things, but nothing serious. He said we can come talk to him whenever we want.”

The responding officers come in, their expressions shocked and confused. These are the officers who should have been here earlier. The ones who were sent to the other disturbances because Glen Nielsen didn’t think the mall event needed any more security than the two officers now lying dead outside.

I gesture for them to come to me. As of right now, there is no head detective assigned to the case, no one officially in charge. The scene is still active and we have to respond as quickly and efficiently as possible. I was first inside and had first contact with victims, including a survivor. For now, I’ll take the lead. Once the scene is secure and we have a better idea of what’s going on, a chain of command will be established and we’ll go from there, but for this moment the most important thing is finding more survivors and getting them to safety.

Because the mall was secured throughout the night, I’m hoping he’s still inside. If this is the only access point we open and it is closely monitored, it’s possible he’ll be trapped and we’ll be able to find him quickly. Though that’s the ideal situation and I can only hope it is the way it turns out, but I’m not holding my breath. It is rarely that simple. This was not an impulsive act. It wasn’t someone inside who just suddenly decided to go on a rampage. This was planned and orchestrated.

Which means it is highly unlikely whoever did this will just be hanging around in the mall with his victims waiting to be found. It has happened. I have encountered killers who have slaughtered their chosen targets and then sat down to wait for the authorities to take them in. It wasn’t the escape or continuing on with their lives after that meant anything to them. It was the act itself. Committing those murders was all that meant anything to them, and once it was over, all that they’d even intended to do was accomplished. There was no reason to try to get away. To try to cover it up.

This could be that way, but I don’t think so. If that was the case, Brent Thornton wouldn’t have been so desperately trying to escape when we arrived. He likely wouldn’t have described a man concealing his identity in a hood and a mask. Someone already set on giving themselves over when they are done with their hellish deeds doesn’t bother with disguises. In many cases, they want their victims to know who they are when they are the last thing those people ever see.

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