Chapter 55
Micah tried the front door.
It was unlocked.
He pushed it open and went in low, weapon up, clearing the entry in one sweep.
The inside was dim—a single bulb burning in the far corner, casting more shadow than light. The furnishings were sparse—a table, two chairs, and a cooler on the floor. The woman from the road stood near the table, her back to him, phone pressed to her ear.
The man was across the room.
And Grace . . . her carrier was on the floor between the two. Her small cries filled the space.
Micah’s focus narrowed to a single point.
“Sheriff’s Department.” His voice came out hard and flat. “Hands where I can see them. Both of you.”
The woman spun. Her phone hit the floor, and her hands came up immediately.
The man, however, had his weapon up before Micah finished the sentence.
He pointed the gun at Grace.
Micah went still.
He kept his weapon level, trained on the man’s center mass.
“Put it down,” the man growled. “Put it down or this gets a lot worse.”
Micah held his ground. “You’re not walking out of here. There are six deputies sixty seconds out.”
“I said put the gun down or I’m going to—”
The back door exploded open.
Like a freight train, Good Boy burst inside. He was seventy pounds of momentum and barking so hard his whole body shook.
The dog spotted the man and launched himself at him. The dog’s paws hit the man square in the chest.
The man went down hard. His weapon arm swung wide, and the gun skittered across the floor. Micah quickly grabbed it.
It looked like Good Boy had just saved the day.
Naomi was through the door right behind Good Boy.
She didn’t stop to watch what happened next. She didn’t look at the man going down or the weapon skittering across the floor or Micah moving fast across the room.
Naomi dropped to her knees and lifted the baby from the carrier.
“I’ve got you.” Her voice broke on the words. “I’ve got you.”
She lifted Grace against her chest and stood.
Grace screamed for two more seconds.
Then she stopped.
She turned her face into Naomi’s neck, grabbed a fistful of her shirt, and went completely quiet.
Naomi pressed her lips to the top of her head and held on.
Good Boy pushed against her leg. She reached down without looking and put her hand on his head.
Behind her the sounds of the room continued—Micah’s voice, low and authoritative. The man on the floor. The woman crying somewhere near the table. The crackle of a radio.
She didn’t turn around.
Instead, she stood in the middle of the room with Grace against her chest and Good Boy pressed to her knee. She let herself feel the full weight of what had just happened.
They were safe.
All of them.
And now they were together again.
A second later, the front door burst open. Deputies flooded in, voices overlapping, boots loud on the floor.
Then a hand settled gently on her shoulder.
She didn’t have to turn around to know whose it was.
Micah’s.
“It’s over,” he murmured.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she nodded against Grace’s hair.
Maybe it really was over.