Chapter Eight
“I wish I could go with you,” Sarah told Tyler.
He hesitated. They were showered and dressed, ready to leave.
“I can be helpful—hey, the bartender at Time and Time Again liked me better than you.”
He had to smile at that. “Yeah, so...most guys out there are going to like you better than me. And, yes, you have proved helpful.”
He wasn’t lying. She had been very useful. That didn’t change the fact that her being in danger could compromise his—or Craig’s—ability to work.
“You’re just better at the safe house!” he told her gently.
“Time goes so slowly,” she said. She brightened. “But actually, there were a few minutes yesterday when I almost had fun. Kieran and Kevin were by—we played one of Davey’s games with him. It was great. Kevin acted out half of his clues for Kieran. We were laughing. I was so surprised they were willing to play.”
“Why?”
“Well, they’re busy, of course. They don’t really have time to play Davey’s games.”
He was silent. There it was. Her insistence that only she could really be happy to play a silly game with Davey.
“What?” she murmured, sensing the change in him.
“You can be really full of yourself, you know.”
She frowned, stepping away. “What?”
“Never mind. Let me get you to the safe house.”
He stepped out; she followed, still frowning. “Tyler?”
“Let’s go.”
He got her out of the room and down to the car. Once they were in traffic, however, she pressed the point.
“What are you talking about?”
“Never mind. Now isn’t the time to worry about it.”
“When should I worry about it? When we’re either dead or you’re back in Boston?”
He stayed silent; traffic was heavy. She waited. When they reached the area of the safe house, she pushed again.
“Tyler, tell me what you’re talking about.”
“Davey,” he said simply. “Who do you think you are, really? Other people like Davey, love Davey, and enjoy his company.”
“I—I...” Sarah stuttered.
He saw one of the agents—Special Agent Lawrence—in front of the building. She waved at him, hurrying around to the driver’s side of the car. “I’ll take it for you—you can see Sarah safely up. It will be there...” She pointed to a garage entrance down the street. “Agent Frasier will be by for you in about ten minutes.”
“Okay, thanks,” Tyler said, getting out of the car. He walked around, but Sarah was already out and walking in ahead of him.
The agent at the desk nodded to them.
Sarah was moving fast; she got into the elevator first. He had to put his arm out to keep the door open.
He stepped in. She was staring straight ahead. He wasn’t sure if she was furious or in shock.
“I told you it wasn’t really the time.”
She didn’t reply. The elevator door opened on their floor. She hurried ahead. At the door she stopped and turned and looked at him. “You’re not being fair! Davey is like love personified. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. Of course people...most people...love him!”
“Then let him enjoy them without you feeling you need to be a buffer.”
“I—I don’t!”
“You do. You push everyone away.”
The door opened. Special Agent Preston was there. “Hey. Did you see Winona? She went down to take the car.”
“Yes, we met her.”
“Craig is on his way.”
“I’m going right down,” Tyler said.
Sarah was still staring at him. Now she looked really confused. And worried. Maybe she hadn’t realized how overprotective she was—and how much she had doubted other people. Him.
“Go in!” he told her.
He started back toward the elevator. Sarah gasped suddenly, and he spun around—ready to draw on Special Agent Preston.
But the FBI agent just looked puzzled. And Sarah was suddenly running toward him. “Tyler!”
“Sarah, we can talk later,” he said softly.
“No, no, no! Nothing to do with us...with Davey. The poem—the poem Perry Knowlton wrote. It was about Hannah, right—not Suzie Cornwall.”
“It seemed to be about Hannah.” He paused, frowning, wondering what she was thinking.
He’d memorized the poem, and spoke softly, repeating the words. “‘Six little children, perfect and dear, wanting the scare of their lives. One little boy, smarter than the rest, apparently felt like the hives. They went into the house, they cried there was a louse, and one fine man was gone. But now they pay the price today...six little children. One of them dead. Soon the rest will be covered in red.’”
“Hannah. We know—from Luke, the bartender—that Perry Knowlton hung around the bar near Times Square. And he went to a dress shop there semiregularly... He seemed to watch Hannah easily enough. Maybe he ran into her by chance one time. He was able to become a woman quickly. And then get to the subway to gather and then deliver the package. Tyler, you need to be looking for something underground not far from the bar and the shop.”
He smiled at her slowly. “That would make sense. You’ve got it, I think. Although...”
“What?”
“I didn’t really see anything in that area. He was a regular at the bar, yes, so we looked, but... We’ll have to look again.”
“But you will look?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, of course.”
He gave her a little salute. Then he continued on to the elevator.
* * *
“I WONDER WHAT we’re costing the taxpayers,” Suzie said dismally. She had just flicked the television off. They had seen the artist’s sketch of Perry Knowlton one time too many.
Along with pictures of Suzie Cornwall.
The young woman had been ill, and the artist’s rendering had allowed that to show.
But Suzie had turned white every time a picture of her came across the screen.
Sarah leaned forward. “Suzie, stop blaming yourself. He’s killed before. If we don’t get him now, he’ll kill again.”
Special Agent Lawrence heard them talking and came forward, just a bit hesitantly. “Please! I know you won’t stop, but you have to try to. It’s not your fault, Suzie. It’s not your parents’ fault for naming you, or your dad for having that surname. It’s the fault of a sick and pathetic and deplorable criminal mind. You have to accept that. If you don’t, you will make yourself crazy.”
“If I live to go crazy,” Suzie muttered.
“You will live,” Winona said, solid determination in her voice. She smiled, and then shrugged, sighing. “Okay, maybe I look a little worn, because I am. I need some sleep. But don’t worry. We have replacements coming. Hey, Parton, who is coming on next?” she called.
Cody Parton was at the desk by the door. “Guzman and Walsh, so I’ve been told,” he called.
“Ah, Walsh is a new guy. Guzman has been around forever and knows the ropes. Trust me, you’ll be safe!” she said.
She smiled and walked away.
“People can say anything. I can even know it’s true. But I can’t help it. If that young woman’s name hadn’t been Suzie Cornwall, she’d be alive now,” Suzie told Sarah softly.
“Maybe something worse was in store for her,” Sarah said.
Suzie shrugged. “I wish I could think of something productive to do. It hasn’t been that long, but I feel as if we’ve been cooped up forever.”
Sean poked his head out of their bedroom. “Hey, guys, wanna watch a movie?” He shrugged. “They have all the movies we could possibly want. Reciprocation...or the cable company sucking up to the Feds, not sure which!”
“I guess so,” Suzie said. “A comedy! Sarah, you coming?”
Sarah smiled. “No, I think I’ll sit here and...plot.”
“Alien bugs, huh? You’re going to sit there and go crazy thinking,” Suzie said.
Sarah offered her a weak smile. “Am I overprotective of Davey?” she asked.
Suzie hesitated. “Oh, Sarah! Sad to say, I haven’t been around you that much lately, so I don’t know if you are or not.”
“Did I...in high school, was I overprotective?”
“Yes. Sometimes you had the right to be. We weren’t cruel kids, but we could be careless. But...”
“But?”
“You really didn’t have to be with Tyler and me. And others, of course. Davey has to make a few mistakes on his own, but he’s smart. He can handle it. Your uncle did teach him to watch out for the bad guys.”
Suzie grimaced and went on into the room with Sean. Sarah sighed, sitting there, torn between thinking about her own mistakes and the fact that they were hunting for a killer.
“You doing okay?” Winona walked back over to her.
She nodded. “Fine, thanks. It just seems...seems like this is taking a very long time.”
“This? Long? I was with the Organized Crime Unit for a while—oh, my God! We gathered info for months and months and...um, but this is different.”
Sarah smiled.
It wasn’t all that different.
It could take time. A lot of time.
“I’m going off in a bit. Can you think of anything I can do for you?” Winona asked.
Sarah liked the woman, really liked her. She smiled and shook her head.
“When do we see you again?”
“Two days. I’ll be back on for the next three after that, twelve hours a day!”
“No offense, but I hope we’re not here that long. Though you’ve been very nice.”
Winona smiled. “You guys have been easy. I think your aunt and Davey are watching a movie, too. I’ll check on everyone before I leave. The new agents are due here soon. Fresh agents. You know what I mean! Replacements!”
Sarah nodded and let her go, leaning back. She closed her eyes, wishing she could sleep, wishing Tyler was there, wishing...
Just wishing that she wasn’t so tense, and so alone, wondering if she had pushed people away...
If only she hadn’t been so young, so afraid and so unsure. Unable to believe not only in Davey, but in herself.
* * *
THEY WERE BELOW the giant high-rises, great pillars of concrete, stone and steel that rose into the sky.
Once upon a time, the subway stop had been called the South Playwright Station. Back then, there had been no movies, and the station had actually been part of the Interborough Rapid Transit Company—one of the predecessors of the modern system.
In those days, the theater district had reigned supreme—there had been no movies. There had not been giant IMAX screens, 3-D, tablets, notepads, computers or any other such devices.
People had flocked here as one of the theater stations. Then a part of the subway had collapsed, and it had been closed off.
One of the city’s engineers accompanied Craig and Tyler down to the station. The access was tricky; they had to bend over and crawl half of it. Broken brick lay with beautiful old tile; the station name was still mostly visible, all in tile that was now covered with the dust of decades that had passed without the station being used. The walls were covered in colorful but menacing graffiti from intrepid urban explorers and vandals. Tracks were intermittent, here and there.
The three men used high-powered flashlights as they went, moving cautiously.
“I don’t know,” Tyler murmured. “This seems a likely location, but how the hell could a tall man come and go, in all manner and mode of dress?”
“There could be another access,” the engineer told them. “One that isn’t on the maps. I did some digging. I believe there were a few entries in some of the old buildings—in the foyers or on the corners.”
“Maybe,” Craig said. “I don’t think there’s anything here, though.”
“Wait, let’s not head up yet. I think...there’s something ahead,” Tyler said.
“A door off to the side?” Craig murmured.
There was a door ahead, they discovered. An old maintenance door.
The three of them quickened their pace.
* * *
THE NEW CREW was coming on.
Agent Winona Lawrence impulsively gave Sarah a hug. “We really should move like professional machinery, but...come on, I want you to meet the new guys. One of them I’ve never met—the guy we were expecting called in sick. Oh, and you’re going to have another female agent coming in tomorrow. Her name is Lucinda Rivera. She’s super. You’ll like her, too. But for now...”
The new agents were at the door. Guzman was older—maybe fifty. He had graying hair and heavy jowls, but a good smile when he met Sarah.
The other agent was younger—forty or forty-five, tall, with close-cropped dark hair, a large nose and dark eyes. She wondered if she had met him before, maybe with Kieran and Craig.
“Walsh called in sick,” he told them. “I’m Adler. Jimmy Adler. Nice to meet you, Sarah.”
“All right, then. We’re out of here. Sleep!” Lawrence said.
“A beer!” Parton admitted.
“Parton,” Guzman said softly.
“Hey...”
Sarah laughed. “Enjoy your beer, Special Agent Parton.”
He grinned. “Just say ‘Goodbye, Cody!’”
“Goodbye, Cody!” she repeated.
Guzman took up a position by the door after locking it. “You can take the desk,” he told Alder.
“Sure thing.” The other agent complied.
They weren’t going to be as friendly or as easygoing as Lawrence and Parton, Sarah decided. She went back to her chair in the little living room grouping. There were magazines on a table by the sofa. She picked up a National Geographic and started leafing through it. There was an article about a new discovery of underground tombs and mummies in the Sahara Desert. She tried to concentrate on the piece, loving the concept of extraterrestrials possibly creating some of the great works in Ancient Egypt. Aliens arriving on Earth thousands of years ago could lead to some great sci-fi ideas.
The agents were making occasional small talk with each other, but Sarah wasn’t paying attention. She could block them out. Well, she could tell herself she was concentrating all she wanted.
All she could really do was sit tensely, wishing that Tyler would call.
She had been there awhile when she heard one of the doors click open slightly, and she looked up; Suzie was at her bedroom door, looking troubled.
Sean was right behind her. He beckoned to Sarah.
She went to the door and started to speak, but Sean caught her arm and whisked her in. “You have to talk Suzie down. She’s having daydreams, nightmares.”
“You weren’t there!” she whispered to Sarah.
“I’m confused. I wasn’t where?”
“You weren’t with us when we first went into Cemetery Mansion. He talked to me...he talked. The thing in the room...the thing we think now might have been Perry Knowlton. He beckoned to me. He spoke... I told myself he was a robot, an automaton, whatever. I was so scared...”
“She’s dreaming that she hears his voice,” Sean said.
Sarah wasn’t sure what, but something suddenly went off inside her.
Instinct?
Like an alarm bell louder than could be imagined.
“We’ve got to get out,” she said. “Now. And fast. Move—move toward that dumbwaiter-slash-elevator they showed us on the first day. Move now. Fast, and silently. I’m getting Davey and my aunt Renee. Go. Go now.”
They’d been expecting Agent Walsh.
Walsh had “called in sick.”
Maybe she was crazy—maybe she and Suzie were both cabin-crazy, paranoid—justly so, but paranoid.
Maybe.
But maybe not.
* * *
THEY MOVED AS quickly as they dared over the rubble and through the dust they raised, to the door at the side of the tunnel.
“Careful,” the engineer warned. “You guys want to make it, to keep on searching, right?” he asked cheerfully. “Of course, we could do this for days!”
“Let’s hope not,” Craig said.
The engineer shrugged. “It’s okay by me. I like you guys!”
“Thanks,” Tyler said.
Maybe they were wrong.
And maybe they were right, but they weren’t looking in the right place. Besides tunnels, as Kieran had pointed out to Sarah, streets had been built on top of streets in New York City. Not to mention—as the Finnegan family had all known from a previous case—there were underground tombs scattered about, as well.
But logically, Tyler didn’t think Perry Knowlton had been living in a tomb. Unless there was such a thing with easy access to the city streets.
Yet even as they reached the door, he couldn’t help but remember the poem Knowlton had written and sent to the police with a bit of neck bone.
Six little children, perfect and dear, wanting the scare of their lives. One little boy, smarter than the rest, apparently felt like the hives. They went into the house, they cried there was a louse, and one fine man was gone. But now they pay the price today...six little children. One of them dead. Soon the rest will be covered in red.
He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud. Craig stopped walking; Tyler nearly plowed into him.
“Poem still bothering you?” Craig asked. The engineer walked ahead of them.
“I don’t know—I just think he would want to gloat over having killed two women so viciously,” Tyler said.
“He is in revenge mode.”
“Yes. Still, wouldn’t he taunt us by saying, hey, and look what I did while I was trying to get the right people?”
“We need to catch him. Then we’ll know.”
“Wow, this is weird!” the engineer called back to them.
“What’s that?”
“Door opens easy as if it had been greased yesterday!” And then he added a horrified “Holy crap!”
Tyler ran forward, Craig right with him.
The door opened to a little room lit by an electric lantern—a very modern electric lantern. There were boxes everywhere, an ice chest, Sterno...a mattress, pillows, blankets.
And in the middle of the floor, a man.
Stripped down to his underwear.
Blood streaked across his temple from a gaping head wound.
Craig was instantly down by his side. “Walsh, just met him the other day. He’s got a pulse, slight... I’m pretty sure he was left for dead... His suit is...gone.”
“You, sir! Stay with this man,” Craig said. He was already trying his cell—and swearing when there was no signal.
“We’ve got to get to the safe house, have to send a warning. We have to get there!” Tyler said.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such a cold and deadly fear.
He was ready to rush back and crawl through the opening, ready to run all the way down Broadway. He was desperate to reach Sarah.
“There!” the engineer cried. “There’s your entrance!”
And there it was. Across the little room was another door. Tyler rushed to it and threw it open. Stairs led up, and he took them to another door, then a hallway that twisted and turned.
At the end of the next hallway was a door that led to the foyer of a 1930s building. He burst out of it, with Craig behind him. He heard Craig dialing 9-1-1 for the man in the tunnel.
Tyler tried Sarah’s number.
There was no answer.
* * *
DAVEY WAS PAYING ATTENTION. He wasn’t watching his movie; he was at the door, ready when Sarah slipped across the hall as quietly as possible to open it. He brought a finger to his lips.
“What is it?” Renee asked.
“Shh, shh, shh, Davey is right!” Sarah told her. “Come with me. We have to get out of here.”
“Get out of here?” Renee said, puzzled. “But we have FBI guards—”
“I think they’ve been compromised. If I’m wrong...we’ll come right back up. But we’re going to take the emergency exit. We have to get to the elevator—the escape dumbwaiter we were shown.”
“Sarah, what has happened?”
“Nothing—yet. But please believe me—”
“I have my Martian Gamma Sword!” Davey said. And he did. He produced it, showing them that he was ready to fight.
“Please, I could be wrong, but if not, hurrying may be essential. Please, Aunt Renee!”
Renee still didn’t appear to be happy. She looked out the door, down the hall to the living area.
Guzman and Adler seemed to be doing their jobs.
“Please!” Sarah said.
“Mom. Come!” Davey said. He looked at Sarah and said, “You know my mom. Really, sometimes she’s a little Down syndrome, too. She concentrates, and you have to shake her up. You know that.”
“Now!” Sarah said firmly.
She took her aunt’s hand and led the way out. Renee grabbed Davey’s arm. They headed silently out of the room and down the hall toward the little enclave where the dumbwaiter/elevator waited.
Of course, they’d never tried it.
Aunt Renee whispered that concern. “What if it doesn’t work? What if five of us don’t fit? What if the agents are furious?”
She’d barely voiced the question before they heard a thump.
Sarah stared back toward the door to the apartment.
Adler was standing over Guzman.
He still held the muzzle of an FBI Glock in his hand; he’d used the handle to cream the agent on the head.
“Go!” Sarah screamed as the man turned to look at them.
They ran.
“Hurry!” Sean beckoned from inside the elevator.
Sarah was still looking back as she ran. The others plowed into the elevator.
She stared right at the man. The thing. The monster the others had seen that night long ago—but she and Davey had not.
Because he’d already been out of the haunted house. Maybe he’d known that his fellow murderer was on a suicidal spree.
Now he looked right at her.
And he smiled.
He aimed the gun at her.
“Sarah!” Davey shouted.
She jumped into the contraption; they were on top of one another, like rats.
Sean hit the giant red Close Door button.
A shot went off.
The door shut just in time.
They heard the bullet strike...
“His voice! Oh, God, I knew that voice!” Suzie sobbed.
Yes! Thank God she had!
The elevator sped toward the ground floor, and Sarah prayed they could get out and get free and find help...
He didn’t have just a knife anymore. Maybe, recently, he’d had a gun along with him as well for his murders. Maybe that was how he’d forced his victims to their murder sites.
Maybe...
“Oh, God, he’s coming for us all!” Suzie cried.
* * *
ALL THE OFFICIAL cars and all the official power in the world couldn’t really move New York City traffic.
Up and out of the tunnel, Tyler and Craig didn’t even try it.
On the street level, Craig was able to reach Dispatch to request help; officers would be on the way.
But so would they—via the subway.
Miraculously, they were able to hit an express.
And off the subway, they ran.
Bursting into the foyer of the safe house, Tyler stopped at last.
The desk clerk was on his feet, hurrying toward them. “Agents are up there,” he said. “Guzman was down. That man came in with Guzman...he had credentials. There was no reason to suspect... He walked right in. Right by me and the backup. I’m here, but everyone else is out there, on the street. We have people going through the rooms, but...”
“But what?” Tyler roared. He realized that Craig had spoken at the same time.
“They got out, the witnesses... We don’t know exactly where now—they didn’t come this way. They sensed something was wrong somehow, but...they’re out on the street. We have men out there, but—”
Tyler didn’t give a damn just how many men might be out on the street. He turned, followed by Craig.
“Hey!” the agent called to them. “Hey, this is important!”
Tyler barely paused.
“He’s armed! He has a service Glock. He doesn’t just have a knife—”
As the clerk spoke, they heard the explosive sound of a gun being fired.
* * *
SARAH HAD REMEMBERED the door would open only from their side—and only when she pushed the button.
She did so. They’d come out in an alley. If they didn’t move quickly, they’d be trapped.
“Run! Go!” she commanded.
They tumbled out and began running. The good thing for them was the main door to the building was around the corner; Knowlton had to leave the building that way—his only choice. That gave them precious seconds to get out of the alley, get somewhere...hide!
She had Davey’s hand. He was not the most agile person she knew; he wasn’t necessarily fast when he ran. She was desperate to find a hiding place before they were seen.
“Davey!” Her aunt cried her son’s name with anguish. Sarah knew that she hated being even one second away from him when there was danger.
She paused, but her aunt, panting, looked at her desperately. “Take him! Take him, keep him safe!”
Sarah nodded. She tightened her grip on his hand and ran on.
Luckily, the street was thronging with people. She kept screaming for help.
They moved out of the way.
Some pulled out cell phones—she hoped they were dialing 9-1-1.
Gasping for air, Sarah soon felt she was reaching her limit.
Trinity was ahead of her.
She had Davey; she had to pray Aunt Renee and Sean and Suzie would run faster than she could with Davey. They could truly get away, would find a shop, a restaurant, anything! Duck in...
She was on the street, ready to run into the Trinity graveyard, when she heard someone shouting at her. She turned.
It was a police officer in uniform.
She drew Davey behind her. “He’s after us! The killer is after us—Knowlton, the man who beheaded the two women...he’s after us!”
“Now, now, miss!” the officer said. “Miss, I’m not sure what your problem is, but you’re just going to have to try to calm down.”
“My problem is that a killer is after us!”
“Is this some kind of a crazy game?” the cop demanded.
“No, dammit! Sorry, sorry, Officer, please, I’m begging you—listen to me. There is a killer—”
She broke off. The man who had claimed to be Special Agent Adler—and was, beyond a doubt, Perry Knowlton—was now casually strolling toward them.
“Get over the fence. Hide in the graves!” she whispered to Davey.
“I won’t leave you!” Davey said stubbornly.
“Do it!” she snapped.
To her relief, for once, he obeyed her.
And it was all right; Knowlton was just staring at her. Smiling still.
“Special Agent Adler, Officer, FBI,” Knowlton said, ever so briefly flashing a badge. “And that woman is a dangerous psychopath!”
“He’s going to shoot me,” she told the police officer calmly.
“No, no, miss. He’s FBI. Now, I don’t know the truth here, but he’ll talk to you and—”
Knowlton took aim and fired.
Sarah gasped as the officer went down before her. He was screaming in agony.
Not dead.
Knowlton might be good with a knife—he wasn’t that great with a gun.
Sarah was dimly aware of the sound of dozens of screams; people were shouting, running, clearing the street.
And then Knowlton was looking right at her. He was a few feet away from her.
His stolen gun was aimed at her.
“You don’t want to shoot me,” she told him quietly.
He paused and smiled, clearly amused.
“I don’t?”
“You don’t like guns. You use them only to scare and bully people—when you have to. This may be the first time you’re really using one.”
“Sorry—I used guns we stole off the guards when Archie and I escaped.”
“Still, you’re not very good with a gun. You’re much more adept with a knife. And I’m assuming you have one. You like to torture your victims, and that’s much better accomplished with a knife.”
“Don’t worry—I’m carrying a knife. And,” he added softly, “when I finish with you, I will find that cousin of yours. Oh, I read the papers, I saw the news! He was the hero, huh? Let’s see if he dies like a hero. Oh, dear! Look around. A graveyard. How fitting!”
He smiled. Whether he liked a gun or not, he still had the Glock aimed at her.
“Drop it!” she heard someone say.
She smiled with relief. Sanity! Someone who realized that Knowlton wasn’t the law—that he was a killer.
Someone...
Her turn to know a voice.
“Drop it!”
Knowlton stared at her. Smiled. Took careful aim—and then spun around to shoot at whoever was behind him.
A gun went off.
For a moment, it felt as if time had been suspended. As if the world had frozen—it was all a special effect in a movie, because, dear Lord, this couldn’t be real. The killer, there, posed before her...
And then he fell.
She looked past him, her knees wobbling, something inside her desperately fighting to keep her standing, to keep her from passing out.
There, past the prone body of Perry Knowlton, was Tyler.
She stared at him for a moment.
And then she ran, and he was ready to take her into his arms. She knew she wasn’t shot; she wasn’t sure about him.
“Tyler, Tyler...”
“I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m fine,” he assured her, holding her, smoothing back her hair. “Are you...?”
“Fine. I’m fine. He aimed at you, Tyler, he aimed at you. He—”
“I’m okay. We’re okay,” he said firmly.
She was aware that Craig was with them then, briefly checking on the two of them, then hurrying forward to hunker down by the body of the fallen killer.
Others were moving in.
Davey had crawled back over the fence. He raced to them.
Tyler pulled him close, as well.
“Group hug!” Davey said.
Sarah drew back, looking anxiously at Tyler. “Aunt Renee, Suzie, Sean...?”
“They’re all right. They went into a clothing store. They’re good. We’re all alive. All of us... Guzman and Walsh are being rushed to the hospital, and—”
Sirens suddenly screamed.
Chaos seemed to be erupting with a flow of agents and police, crime scene tape—a flurry of activity.
But none of it mattered.
She was being held in Tyler’s arms. And anything could happen around her. They had survived again. And this time...
She wouldn’t just survive. She would live.