The night of the fundraiser, moonlight slipped onto the agenda as the festive vibe bubbled up across town. The celebratory mood lapped over to the daycare center where most of the attendees planned to drop off their kids for the evening.

The building hopped with activity. With Reverend Larrabee’s help, Ophelia was certain she had everything under control for the dozens of kids that would be left in her care.

Neenah Brewer and Susan Hollenbeck had stopped taking reservations two days ago because the facility was at full capacity. It seemed every child in town had been slated to stay here during the event, dubbed officially on engraved invitations as the First Annual Hospital Masquerade Ball and Auction.

Ophelia didn’t think she could jam another child into any of the classrooms even if she tried. Although she’d taken on extra help, the ratio of youngster to adult was still too high to suit her. But she told herself it was only for one night. She’d recruited teen sitters, Sonoma and Sonnet, Faye DeMarco, and Beckham Blackwood to help with activities, like keeping the kids busy until they went to sleep on floor mats used for naps or the sleeping bags they’d brought with them.

She opened the doors at six that evening for early arrivals. The only thing on her mind was how to entertain close to fifty children of all ages for five or six hours. She crossed her fingers and hoped most would be snuggled asleep by at least nine o’clock.

As it got closer to seven-thirty, the drop-off line outside grew longer.

Simon and Gilly could attest to that. They were stuck behind Hayden and Ethan Cody, who were dropping off Nate. Each car that pulled up went through a series of rituals. Either Seth Larrabee or one of the other adults came out to the car to collect their charges, then disappeared back inside and performed the same routine with the next car.

It was like dropping off at school, an orderly procedure where you just had to wait until your car moved up in line. Of course, others had decided to simply walk their kids up to the church and then walk over to the venue.

“Why didn’t we do that?” Simon asked.

“Because I’m wearing five-inch heels and I’m not prepared to walk three blocks in them.”

“Just thought I’d ask,” he muttered under his breath.

When it finally came their turn, Ophelia opened the back door and unbelted Jayden first, handing him off to Neenah who was standing to one side. She then reached across and unfastened Delaney out of her carrier. “Come on, baby. Let’s go play with some blocks.”

Ophelia moved out of the car with Delaney in her arms. “Have a great time,” she said cheerily as she waved them off into the night.

“Shouldn’t a woman who looks like that be heading to this party herself?” Gilly wondered.

They’d gone to church services the previous Sunday for the first time as a couple where Simon had made another observation that stuck. “The way Seth looks at Ophelia tells me there’s chemistry there.”

“Absolutely. I’m just surprised you noticed.”

“Hey, when our young minister spends most of his time ogling a member of his flock, I notice.”

Since parking would be a nightmare with everyone crammed into one small corner of town, Brent had issued an order that everyone should leave their cars at the elementary school and walk across Ocean Street. Simon maneuvered the SUV into an open space and cut the engine.

“How do you like your new wheels so far?”

“At least we’re not crammed on top of each other. And I like the overhead video where the kids can watch a movie.”

“I am so jealous. My poor Subaru looks like a relic next to this.”

“Hey, you can always drive this anytime you want, and I’ll go back to riding my motorcycle.”

“Simon, I was joking. My car’s fine. I could walk to work if I had to. I even walk to the store sometimes.”

“Well, the offer’s out there. Are we ready for this madhouse?” he asked, opening the door.

She looked over at him dressed all in black, even his dress shirt was made from black silk, and her mouth watered. “Got your mask?”

“You know I do, you’re the one who stuck it down in my pocket.”

He took her hand and helped her out of the front seat.

“I feel like a princess.”

“You look more like a goddess, or should I call you Buttercup tonight?”

She’d worn a gold beaded gown with a matching beaded cap on the crown of her head and a choker around her neck.

“Aw, I love it when you say things like that.” Gilly looped her arm around her very own Westley and felt like she was going to the prom again.

They glided through the elegant doors of what was now the library to purple and golden lights pulsing over the crowd from the second-floor balcony. Some were already waltzing across the lobby to strings and brass and woodwinds.

The women were decked out in masks and every color of French gowns they’d been able to find at antique boutiques or thrift shops in and around the area.

While the men were dressed mostly in formal black-tie, there was a handful of guys who’d gone the extra mile and worn outlandish getups. Wally Pierce had on a suit made from gold brocade and a feathery hat sitting on his head.

She elbowed Simon in the ribs. “See, someone got into the spirit of the evening.”

“Give me a break. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a bunch of feathers on my head.” But as the words left his mouth, he spotted Caleb Jennings wearing a frilly shirt the color of scarlet that matched his feathery red mask. Even Logan had put on an embroidered jacket in gold, and wore red tights.

Kinsey pulled Gilly deeper into the ballroom to dance to a rousing rendition of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”

Left alone, Simon sauntered up to Logan. “Put a crown on your head and you’re the spitting image of Humperdink.”

Logan looked insulted. “It’s Casanova to you, pal.” He took a long pull on the beer in his hand. “What we won’t do for our women.”

Simon glanced over at Gilly kicking up her heels with Kinsey, who’d dressed in an over-the-top purple gown with ruffles. The females had formed a conga line of sorts and began dancing around the room.

“Where do I get one of those?” Simon asked, pointing to the bottle in Logan’s hand. “Bar is on the terrace. Steer clear of that ultra-light stuff. Someone ordered a whole case of it. My guess is we’ll be stuck with that crap for months.”

Simon wandered that way and ran into Nick at the bar dressed in one of his boring black suits. “What, no fancy getup?”

The banker cut his eyes to his wife, who was sporting an audaciously low-cut, strapless red gown with what looked like rubies at her ears. “We spent a fortune on that outfit. There was nothing left in the budget for me to splurge on tights. Did you get a look at Logan?”

“Yeah. But I’m worried we may have to go through this costume thing every year. The invitation said something about this being the ‘first’ of its kind.”

“Yeah, well, if you ask me this is all Gilly’s fault. It was her idea.”

Simon tried to loosen the top button of his shirt just so he could breathe. “Don’t blame me, I tried to talk her out of it.”

“Obviously, you didn’t try hard enough,” Nick grumbled, glancing at his wife again. Jordan was still prancing in the conga line. “She can’t even wear that thing for trick or treating. Now Hutton wants a strapless gown to wear for Halloween.”

Simon looked shocked. “But she’s only seven.”

“Exactly. Wait until yours is talking lipstick and makeup.”

Simon made a face. “I don’t even want to think about that. When’s the auction?”

“In about an hour. It can’t get here too soon for me.”

 

 

Inside the Community Church, Ophelia heard glass shatter. “What was that?”

Seth cocked his head, trying to determine where the noise originated. “Sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. I hope one of the older kids didn’t break a window.”

But when he rounded the corner into the community room, the second largest space only to the auditorium, Seth spotted a man holding an AR-15. The guy wore two extra ammunition belts across his chest and had some type of device wrapped around his middle section.

Robert Ogilvie leveled his weapon at the preacher and yelled, “Get your ass over here while you still have one.”

Seth froze in his tracks.

Ogilvie advanced on him, using the butt of his rifle to hit Seth in the stomach, causing him to double over and fall to his knees.

“Next time I say move, preacher man, move or you won’t be giving any more of those flowery sermons on Sunday.”

The guy quickly secured Seth with zip-tie cuffs around both wrists and forced him to stand up. “Let’s go check on all the little kiddies.”

“Why are you doing this?” Seth yelled out.

“Shut up! Just shut your mouth or I’ll tape it shut.”

Ogilvie forced him out into the hallway and down to the first classroom filled with kids. He opened the door and looked around. “Where’s Ophelia?”

“Ophelia who?”

He smashed the rifle into the pastor’s face, breaking Seth’s glasses. “Wrong answer. Let’s try this again. Where is Ophelia? Which room is she in?”

“I’m new here. I don’t yet know everyone’s name.”

“Bullshit. I want everyone here to put their backs up against the wall and sit down.”

Spotting the rifle and the cuffs around Seth’s hands, Susan Hollenbeck shouted, “These are children. They’re no threat to you. Why not let them go?”

“No one’s going anywhere until I find Ophelia. Sit down and shut up or you’ll get what the preacher got.”

Ogilvie yelled out for Ophelia, his voice echoing down the hall. “Get out here, Ophelia. I know you’re in here somewhere. I’m not leaving without you. You’re only pissing me off more by not coming out. Show me your sorry face. Now!”

In the next classroom over, Neenah Brewer heard the commotion and knew something was wrong. She locked the door and shoved a chair under the handle. She gathered her young charges around her and ushered them into the supply closet, shutting the door behind her. Huddling in the dark as the kids started to cry, she took out her cell phone. She had the police department on speed dial and as her hands shook, she punched in the number.

On patrol near the fundraiser, Eastlyn took the call.

“There’s a man here yelling and screaming,” Neenah began. “I think Seth is hurt.”

“Does he have a weapon?” Those words had no sooner left her mouth when Eastlyn heard multiple rounds of gunfire in the background.

“I’m on my way,” Eastlyn said. “Don’t hang up. Keep this line open. Try to remain calm and stay put where you are. Try to keep the kids as quiet as possible.”

Eastlyn pulled up to the library, put the cruiser in Park, left the engine running as she dashed inside to find Brent.

Her eyes frantically scanned the crowd. She zeroed in on her boss deep in conversation with his brother, Ethan. She worked her way over to where they stood and pulled Brent into a corner.

“There’s a gunman at the church threatening everyone. Shots fired.”

Brent went into cop-mode. “Get on the horn and call in a tactical unit out of Santa Cruz. Also notify the deputy patrolling this area of the county that we’ll need backup. Do it now.”

Ethan overheard the conversation as did Simon and Cord.

All four men began moving toward the exit. As they circulated through the crowd a buzz rippled through the festivities.

Logan sensed something was wrong and trailed after them. He caught Simon by the arm just as he reached the staircase. “What’s happening?”

“Eastlyn just reported there’s an active shooter situation at the church. Shots have been fired. Some guy has taken everyone inside hostage. Ethan’s gone to the station to get weapons and vests. That’s all I know so far. But someone needs to stay here and keep everyone calm. Don’t let anyone leave and go running up to the church. The guy starts opening fire on a crowd outside and we’ve lost control of the situation for good. No need to give him additional targets.”

It didn’t take long for the murmurs to reach Gilly. Her eyes searched for Simon in the throng of people who’d stopped dancing. In one glimpse she caught sight of him talking to Logan near the front door. She made a mad dash in that direction.

Breathless, she called out, “What’s going on?”

Simon cut his eyes to hers. “Stay put. I’m going with Brent and Cord. There’s…a situation…at the church.”

“What kind of situation? I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Don’t tell me to stay here. My child is in there. Tell me what’s happening.”

Bluntly, he laid out the dire scenario.

“Oh, my, God. Could the man in there be Ophelia’s ex-boyfriend?”

That stopped Brent in his tracks. “Give me a name.”

“Oh. Jeez. Let me think. She told me. It’s…Robert something. It was on the police report Eastlyn took. Robert…Ogilvie. That’s it. He’s been physically abusive in the past. Eastlyn persuaded her to take out a restraining order. Maybe that’s what set him off.”

“Shit,” Brent uttered. “I remember that now. This guy is a nutcase, more money than God, and parents who keep bailing him out of trouble. Let’s go. Ethan’s bringing the firepower. I want everybody to stay here. That’s an order. Simon, Ryder, and Cord, you come with me. You all have Army training. I can count on you to keep calm and do what you’re told.”

Brent jumped in Eastlyn’s cruiser, stepped on the gas, and shot off down Cape May. “We’ll set up a perimeter at Main Street and cordon off that part of the block.”

About that time, Simon spotted a woman shepherding a group of older children away from the church and across Cape May. “That’s Ophelia.”

Brent brought the cruiser to a stop and Simon got out. “Is everyone here okay?”

Fourteen-year-old Beckham wiped his nose. “Faye’s still in there. I couldn’t get to her. She’s back there with the young toddlers.”

Simon’s gut clenched with dread.

Ophelia wrapped up Sonnet Rafferty who was still shaking. She took a step toward Simon. “It’s him. Robert is in there terrorizing everyone. He has weapons, ammunition and some device strapped to his chest. I got a few of the older kids out the front door and ran. I should go back and try to reason with him.”

“Uh-uh. He’s beyond reasoning with now. You go back in there and he’ll most likely kill you on sight. Take the kids and keep heading toward the library.”

Simon watched her take off with the brood before crawling back inside the patrol car. “We know there’s only one shooter and he’s armed. Ophelia saw an explosive device attached to his chest. This guy’s not messing around.”

Brent pulled up to the corner of Cape May and Main about the same time Ethan appeared in another patrol car with the weapons.

“I loaded up everything there was out of the cabinets and everything out of the evidence locker,” Ethan told Brent. “Even that 30-30 Winchester you confiscated from Rick Riordan for hunting out of season.”

Brent took out the bullhorn and called out to Ogilvie. “Robert, so far you haven’t done anything that we can’t fix. But you need to let every single one of those kids go now. The longer you stretch this out, the more trouble you’re in. Are you listening, Robert? Put down your weapon and come out now before you get in so deep that Mommy and Daddy’s money can’t buy you out of this.”

Brent turned to the others. “That should get some kind of reaction.”

It wasn’t the one Brent wanted. Ogilvie opened the double doors and appeared on the top of the steps, a knife to the reverend’s throat.

“My life’s over anyway. I’ve got nothing to lose,” Ogilvie shouted. “I came here to kill that lying bitch Ophelia. And I’m not leaving here until I see her blood running down the streets of this bumfuck town. Get her back here or I swear I’ll start killing everyone inside, one by one. I’m ready to blow this stinking church sky-high and take everybody with me.”

Using the pair of night-vision goggles Ethan had provided, Cord had been watching Ogilvie. “I have eyes on the suspect. In my opinion, you take him out with a headshot and that device won’t explode. He’s got it rigged all wrong for instant impact. Simon, you take a look; tell me if I’m wrong.”

Simon took the binoculars and studied the man, his vest, and the explosive device strapped there. “No, you’re right. This isn’t rigged like the ones we’ve seen before.”

“You’re only gonna get one shot to take him out,” Cord muttered to Brent. “You’d better make it count.”

“Let’s see if we can talk him down first,” Brent offered. “We’ll take him out as a last resort. But as agitated as he is, this will only get worse when SWAT gets here. Of the men here, who’s the best shot if it comes to that?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Cord said, getting the nod from Ryder and Ethan. “It has to be Simon.”

Ethan pulled Simon over to the cruiser and brought him up to speed on the collection of weapons.

A sick feeling washed over him. “You know what you guys are asking me to do, right?”

“Yeah, we do,” Brent returned. “I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. But we need to have the backup plan in place and you in position.”

“My kid’s in there,” Simon stated flatly, almost to himself, as he scanned the pitiful choices. He shouldered out of his suit coat, loosened the top buttons on his shirt, and picked up the Winchester with what looked like an ancient scope on top.

A ball of revulsion roiled in his stomach as he used a weather vane on top of Murphy’s Market to sight in the scope. He took a deep breath, whooshed it out. “If this is the best you’ve got, then this will have to do.”

“Get that bastard to come out,” Ethan said to his brother. “Now! Nate’s still in there.”

“Mine, too,” Brent huffed out, holding up the bullhorn to his mouth. He tried one more time reasoning with Ogilvie. “Robert, once SWAT gets here, it’s out of my hands. I’m giving you one more chance to think this through. It isn’t too late to drop the weapon and put this thing to rest.”

“I’m done talking. Here’s my answer,” Ogilvie said, as he ran his knife across Seth’s throat in one fluid motion, then kicked him to the bottom of the steps. He retreated back inside, disappearing behind the door.

Cord ducked down and took off toward Seth’s crumpled body. “He’s still alive,” he yelled back to the others. Cord put pressure on the massive wound. “Help me get him out of here.”

Ryder dashed toward them and helped the veterinarian drag Seth’s body to the curb out of Ogilvie’s line of fire.

Brent turned to Simon. “It’s gotta be done. I’m not waiting for SWAT.”

Simon automatically checked the mechanism on the rifle and began to load shells into the chamber. “I made a promise to myself I wouldn’t do this again. But my baby’s in there. A lot of babies are in there. I’m about to break that promise for a stupid asshole who should’ve been locked away a long time ago. You need to keep him talking until I get in position. The best vantage point should be the bank across the street, second story. Do I bust in or…?”

Nick stepped out of what seemed like the shadows. “No need. I’ll unlock the back door for you.”

Simon angled toward Brent. “Keep him occupied, I don’t care how, but keep his attention on you.”

“Will do.” Brent tossed Nick one of the two-way radios. “If you’re going with him, keep me apprised of what Simon needs, and this guy’s movements so we’ll be able to coordinate.”

 The two men took off around the side of the bank building to the alleyway where Nick pulled out a set of keys from his pants pocket and unlocked a back door.

Simon started up the steep steps that led to the second floor. Nick forced open a storage room door with rusty hinges that creaked from lack of use.

“We never use this area, never come up here for anything.” He reached up and tugged on a rotten piece of string, a hatch opened from the ceiling. He pulled down an old ladder providing access to the roof. “You get out there, don’t fall off.”

“I’ve done this before,” Simon murmured as he climbed up and out through the space and onto the rooftop. He crawled along the parapet where he could look down directly onto the front of the church.

“Let me know when you’re in position,” Nick said quietly.

Simon used the ornamental section of the cornice to hide, sticking his head out just above the scrollwork, then used the ledge to position the rifle on his target. Through the scope, he scanned the double front doors where Ogilvie cowered in the foyer. Periodically, the man looked out at the street, checking for any activity from Brent.

Simon also saw that Ogilvie had surrounded himself with at least three adult hostages.

“How’s it looking up there?” Nick asked.

“I need Brent to engage him in conversation, get him to stand up. I need a clearer shot.”

Nick conveyed that message back to Brent.

Nervous and beginning to sweat, doubts creeping into his brain, Simon’s head throbbed. He heard the two-way crackle to life. It was a voice he recognized instantly.

“Sorry I’m late to the party, Simon, old buddy. But you know you can do this, you can do this in your sleep. I hear there’s a couple of hot, young things back at the party who want to meet me, so don’t mess this up. I got faith in you, bro.”

About that time, Brent stepped from behind the police cruiser with his bullhorn and started across the street toward the church. Standing in the middle of Main Street, Brent taunted Ogilvie. “Come on out, you SOB, or I’m coming in there to drag you out myself.”

Ogilvie got to his feet to peer out the door again, the AR-15 poised to take Brent out.

Through the scope of the rifle, Simon zeroed in on his target; he could even make out the smirk that formed on Ogilvie’s lips. That’s the last thing he saw as he squeezed the trigger.

The shot echoed out into the night.

Brent and Eastlyn rushed the church along with dozens of other parents who’d spilled out from the library and gathered at the corner.

 

 

Simon slid down and slumped back against the pilaster, resting his head just under the bank’s scrollwork. He couldn’t move, didn’t want to.

Minutes ticked by as Nick waited for Simon to come down from his perch. He was about to go up and get him when Gilly appeared at the bottom of the steps.

“Is he okay?” she called out.

“Maybe you should give him another five minutes or so,” Nick suggested.

“SWAT finally showed up along with a bunch of news vans. Why won’t he come down?”

“Probably because he doesn’t want to deal with…the aftermath. Like I said, he needs time…”

But Gilly flew past Nick, kicked off her heels, and hiked up her ball dress. She started up the rickety rungs of the ladder. Poking her head through the opening, she wasn’t sure what she’d find. She breathed a sigh of relief when she caught sight of Simon, dried tears streaking down his sullen face.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” he said softly.

“You’re up here, so this is where I belong.”

“Are the kids okay?” he managed, wiping off his face.

Gilly inched closer. “They’re fine. Delaney slept through most of it. Not Jayden though. He’s wired.”

That got a faint smile out of him. “And Seth? How’s the minister?”

“In surgery. Gideon and Quentin are…optimistic.” Edging closer, she narrowed her eyes and zeroed in on his clothes. “Look at you, your shirt is ruined. You have stucco stuck in the silk.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not really my kind of shirt, now is it?”

“Maybe not, but you looked so damn sexy in it. I’m so proud of you, Simon,” Gilly announced. “Everyone is. It’s time for you to come down now.”

“You do realize what I just did, right? What I always seemed to have to do? I’m sick of it. I just want to live my life in peace.”

“You did what was asked of you, what someone had to do. Our children were in there. God knows for how long if you hadn’t taken him out. Everyone knows it. You saved more than fifty people tonight, Simon. Babies. The town’s future. People want to tell you how grateful they are for it and shake your hand.”

“I don’t want that.”

“I know you don’t. That’s the amazing thing about you. It’s what I love.” Gilly saved her best ammo for last. “But right now, Jayden and Delaney need to see their daddy.”

Simon’s head snapped up. “I thought you said Delaney was asleep and Jayden was running around as usual.” He started to move, to make his way toward her.

“No, I said she slept through the whole ordeal and that Jayden was all worked up. Now, they’re asking for you. Give me that gun and I’ll hand it down to Nick.”

“I’ve got it,” Simon assured her, suddenly feeling much better. “I’m okay now. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve got you. I’ve got Delaney and Jayden. That’s all I ever really needed.”