Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Olivia
M y panic was in overdrive. I’d been so sure I’d seen Rosie at the back of the fire engine with Thoren—until Thoren tumbled out of the burning building. When he’d ripped that BA mask off his face, my heart stopped. If Thoren had been inside fighting the fire, who had Rosie been with?
I sprinted down the sidewalk, shooter be damned. “Excuse me, have you seen a teenage girl with curly blond hair?” I asked a man standing inside his business door. He barely paid attention to me, giving me the briefest head shake.
Hyperaware that the street had been cleared, I noticed every crack in the sidewalk as I jogged to the next cluster of onlookers and asked them the same question.
I stopped every stranger I saw. I was two blocks away from the court square and swallowing bile when a little old woman poked her head out of a used bookstore.
“My dear, you look affright. Can I help you?”
“Yes, please.” My voice broke on a sob I couldn’t quite contain. Rosie was fine. This was all a big mistake.
“Take a breath, dear. What can I help you with.”
“My daughter. I can’t find her. She’s fourteen, wearing a denim jacket. And light jeans. She’s about this tall and has blond hair.” I tried to calm my nerves and make sense of the situation, but every moment that ticked by without finding her let more panic sneak in.
The old woman appeared to be thinking hard, her gaze distant. She glanced down the street, away from the fire, and then back at me. “Does she have curly hair?”
“Yes!” I grabbed her hands, clutching to her words like a life preserver.
“I saw a young girl a bit ago. I figured it was just a dad dragging his kid away from trouble. You know how kids?—”
“Which way did they go?” I had no time to waste on her theories of troubled teenagers.
For a split second, she acted as if I’d offended her by interrupting, and then her face fell. “I’m sorry, dear, I only know they went that way.” She pointed away from the fire. Just beyond her shop was a four-way stop.
Straight ahead, the road led to a residential neighborhood. To the right led to a large church that took up the whole block. And the left led back into the business district.
“I couldn’t see much beyond this door, and I was paying more attention to the courthouse.”
I swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
I stumbled forward to the stop sign at the corner. I needed to think.
He wouldn’t have taken her back toward the businesses. Too many people that way. Same for the neighborhood. Too many onlookers checking out the fire.
I spun on a heel and called, “Ma’am, what’s behind the church?”
Her brow knit with concern. “It’s an empty lot. It used to be a playground. But they let it grow over. Kinda spooky back there with the empty shed buildings.”
And suddenly I knew where that shithead had taken her.
I sprinted through the church courtyard as fast as I could, jumping over planters that lined the walks to the building, trampling the neatly groomed grass. I turned the corner of the building and found the empty lot.
The old woman had been right. The entire lot was overgrown with vines. In stark contrast to the neatly groomed church grounds stood two neglected buildings, one on either end of the lot, their dilapidated wood frames listing to the side. A dim orange streetlamp barely lit the area.
Hiding in the shadows, I forced myself to be still. Forced my breathing to slow. Tried with every ounce of control I had to keep my movements minute because every slight noise seemed magnified.
In the stillness, two things registered. One, I needed backup. Two, I was going to kill this son of a bitch if he hurt my Rosie.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, careful to keep the face to me while I lowered the screen brightness. Then I dialed 911. They could get PD here the fastest.
I was two blocks away from at least half the shift.
The operator answered, sounding harassed. They’d surely had almost as dramatic a night as we’d had.
“This is Chief Hawkins,” I whispered.
“Ma’am, can you please speak up? I can barely hear you.”
“No, I can’t. A man has abducted my daughter, and I have reason to believe that he’s holding her hostage in one of the abandoned buildings behind the old First Baptist Church.”
“Do you have a visual on your daughter.”
“No.”
A huge sigh crossed the line. “Ma’am. What makes you think your daughter has been abducted.”
“Because I can’t find her. She’s not where she’s supposed to be. I think I saw her with a man.”
“How old is she?”
“Fourteen.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. Is it possible she’s just run away?”
I combusted. “You listen to me. My daughter did not run away. Stop wasting my time. You need to get on the radio and send one of those fifty personnel you have lining the sidewalks. You tell them Fire Chief Olivia Hawkins has a missing child. I need some backup, and I need it now.”
I reiterated the location and hung up.
Probably, I was on my own with this. And definitely, flaunting my position would likely get me a reprimand. And that operator was just doing her job, but my daughter’s life was in danger.
I slipped my phone in my pocket.
The smart thing to do was wait. But it was excruciating.
Still, I remained in my hiding spot for a heartbeat, praying that she’d be okay. That I would hear something that would give them away.
Two blocks away was chaos. The distant drone of the engines and the shouts of fire crews working were like another world away. Like a movie scene playing in another room. Distant, but there.
Here, it was deadly silent.
I focused on breathing deeply, though every sound, even my breath, seemed magnified in the stillness of the area.
Across the bleak lot, just beyond the misshapen chain-link fence, from the direction of the least sturdy of the two buildings, came a high shriek that abruptly cut off.
But I’d heard that shriek a million times over her lifetime. Hold on, baby. Momma’s coming.
The door to the shed burst open, and a mass of blond curls tumbled out, followed by long lanky limbs I’d recognize anywhere. Her jacket gone.
She landed hard on her knees and scrambled back to her feet.
“Rosie,” I screamed.
She whipped her head in my direction. “Mom!”
I bolted as fast as I had ever run. To her. My baby girl.
A man stumbled out of the building behind her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Rosie changed direction, leading him further out of the building.
“You little bitch,” he growled, running and reaching, nearly catching her by the shirt.
He heard my footfalls just as I leaped into the air, shoving my feet toward him in the most epic side kick I’d ever done.
We landed, and I screamed for Rosie to run.
Beside me, the man rolled from his back to his side, then rose on hands and knees.
“Thoren,” I gasped, heaving myself upright, trying to catch the breath I’d knocked out of myself when I hit the ground.
He pushed to stand. “Wrong brother, bitch. But I like how you think.”
Thoren was a twin . The realization stunned me. His first punch was unexpected. He got in that one good shot, and then I turned my righteous fury loose on him. I pummeled him, throwing everything I had into smashing the bastard who had hurt my daughter—hurt my people.
With a roundhouse kick that caught him across the jaw, we both went sprawling in a duet of grunts.
I recovered first, scooted over, and landed on him, hard. I planted my knee in his back, wrenched his arm behind him with one hand, and clenched a fistful of hair with the other. “You son of a bitch,” I screamed, yanking up and back until he cried out in pain.
“Get off me, bitch,” he growled.
I wanted nothing more than to smash his face into the ground.
“Easy, Chief.” Around me, voices started filtering in, lowering the red haze my vision had become.
“On your left.”
Mike Harrison. One of mine .
I relaxed my pose slightly and realized I was snarling.
“I got it from here, Chief.” Mike placed his hand over mine, allowing me to release my grip.
I looked up into his warm brown eyes.
It was over. We’d stopped him.
Other hands slipped under my elbow, helping me stand. I stared back at the man who’d done so much damage to our town, to my family. Mike snapped handcuffs on Loren Watkins— arson suspect, murder suspect, and attempted kidnapper.
“Liv.” Mac’s choked voice cut through my stunned daze. I found him standing off to the side with our shaken daughter wrapped around his torso, his thick, strong arms holding her safe.
And on legs that felt like jelly, I stumbled to them.