9:26 A.M.
“Do we have anything from ERT?” Tom asked Chloe as they sat down at their desks.
“No fingerprints. We do have the bullet the doctors removed from Jeff Shields in the emergency room. ERT is running it through ballistics. Hopefully we’ll get a match.”
The armed robbers hadn’t fired any shots at the scenes of any of the other robberies, so there was no possibility of linking the crimes that way, but if they got a hit to a particular gun then they might be able to find the shooter. “No fibers or DNA or anything?” he asked. He wanted something that would conclusively prove the robbery at Hannah’s store was related to the others. He just didn't know what that conclusive evidence would be. The Evidence Response Team Unit had scoured the scenes of all four of the previous robberies and come up with no forensic evidence. How could he find a link between the four other crimes and the one at Hannah’s store when they had no forensics and no descriptions of the robbers?
“Nothing. I'm sorry, Tom. I know you want to confirm that the same men committed the other robberies and the one at your . . . uh . . . friend’s store,” Chloe finished, arching a perfectly sculpted brow at him.
He just nodded. He didn't want to discuss Hannah with his partner. Or with anyone else. He just wanted to solve this case, get some closure, and move on with his life.
“Who is she?” Chloe asked. His partner wasn't one for tact and was clearly choosing to ignore the blatant signals he was giving that he didn't want to talk about it.
“My ex-wife,” he replied. If he refused to answer, it would only further pique her curiosity.
“I didn't know you were married. Why did you two split up?”
“Chloe,” he reprimanded.
“What?” she asked, brown eyes all wide and innocent. “We only just became partners, I’m just getting to know you.”
Working with Chloe Luckman was going to be interesting, if nothing else. She was a recent graduate from the academy. She was full of enthusiasm and zeal for her job. She was smart and strong, and just like him, she paid attention to details. He liked her; he just didn't want to discuss his failed marriage with her.
Her face softened. “She was most stressed out by the gun. Has she been held at gunpoint before?”
He may as well just tell her. She obviously wasn't going to give up, and it wasn't like she couldn’t find the information out on her own anyway. Besides, if he was right and the robbery at Hannah’s store was committed by a different set of perpetrators than the others, then it might even end up being relevant to the case.
“Hannah was raped,” he told her. He hated that word. Hated the way it felt in his mouth, hated the images it conjured up in his mind, hated what it had done to the woman he loved.
“Oh, Tom, I'm so sorry.” Chloe’s eyes filled with sympathy.
“Hannah has been through enough. I want to make sure that if this has anything to do with her and not just the jewelry that we get those men off the street before they try to hurt her again.”
“You really think it’s not related?”
“I don’t know. It just feels different, and I want to be sure. And not just because it’s Hannah. If we’re dealing with two different sets of perpetrators, we need to get them both off the streets.”
“Okay, well let’s go back to the first robbery.”
“November twenty-first, around 2:00 P.M., three armed men wearing jeans, black hoodies, and clown masks enter a small jewelry store in a quiet strip mall. Inside there were two employees and three customers. A middle-aged couple looking for an engagement ring, and an older woman looking for a gift for her granddaughter’s sixteenth birthday. They came in, demanded jewelry, smashed a few of the glass cases, grabbed what they could and ran. In and out in under two minutes. No one was hurt. They didn't ask for codes to the safe. They just took what was accessible.”
“Second robbery was similar,” Chloe said. “Exactly one week later, on November twenty-eighth, 1:00 P.M., another strip mall jewelry store. Again, three men, dressed the same, armed with guns, enter the store, where there are five employees and six customers. They demand jewelry, smash the glass cases, and run off with whatever they could grab. Witnesses say they weren't in there any longer than two or three minutes. They didn't ask for codes or entry to the safe.”
“Third one occurred a week later once again, December fifth; they hit at midday. Same MO as the others; this time there are four employees and only one customer. Fourth one was one week later on the twelfth. Three employees, eight customers, they struck at three in the afternoon. In none of those four robberies do they ask for anything else other than what they can easily grab.”
“Maybe they built up enough confidence after the first four and were ready to escalate things,” Chloe said.
“Maybe,” he nodded. “Times of day were different, too. The other crimes were committed in the early afternoon. The one at Hannah’s was at night, after the store was already closed.”
“Again, that could fit in with the escalation. It’s easier to try and get the more expensive stuff from the safe when there are less people there.”
“Maybe,” he acknowledged again. “I agree, the differences in time of day and what they’re after could just be an escalation related to gaining confidence and moving on to bigger things. But they struck a day early. If they kept with their pattern, they should have robbed their next store on the nineteenth, not the eighteenth.”
“Maybe something was going to prevent them from hitting a store today,” Chloe countered. “Or maybe they realized it made them too predictable. If they kept going with the same day, then we were going to catch them. This way they make it more difficult, and we don’t know when they’re going to strike.”
“The men who attacked Hannah didn't wear clown masks. They wore balaclavas,” he moved on to his next argument.
“Could be the clown masks got lost or broken, or they just changed their minds and decided to go with something different.”
“We can explain away every difference between the robberies except one.”
“There were only two people who robbed Hannah’s store,” Chloe said.
“Exactly.”
“One could be sick,” his partner suggested. “Or otherwise occupied.”
“If you’re running a robbery ring, you only hit a store when you can all do it. If one of them was sick, they would have waited until today; this is when they were supposed to strike. A group of three men robbed stores coming away with only a couple of thousand dollars’ worth of stolen jewelry. A group of two men robbed Hannah’s store, attempting to walk away with millions.”
“What are the odds there are two separate gangs hitting jewelry stores in the same city at the same time?”
“Not very high,” he answered Chloe’s rhetorical question.
“Maybe the hit on Hannah’s store was someone hoping to take advantage of the other robberies. They knew we were looking at a gang of robbers, and they could swoop in, make it out with millions in stolen jewels, then disappear, all the while we think we’re looking for someone else.”
“I suppose,” Tom agreed. It was a viable possibility and certainly preferable to the alternative, that Hannah was the intended target.
“Last night’s was the only one that turned violent. But was it because it was just different men who wanted something different, or because they had always intended to turn things violent?”
“There’s no way to know that.”
“No, there’s not. If the robbery at Hannah’s store was committed by different men, then who? And why? Do you know of anyone that would want to hurt her?”
“There’s no one who would want to hurt her,” he replied adamantly. Hannah was stubborn, but so sweet, he couldn’t imagine her making any enemies even if she tried.
“What about the man who raped her?”
“Prison,” he replied shortly.
“Let’s say you're right, and it was someone else. Do we know for sure she was the target? After all, it was Jeff Shields who was shot.”
“If Jeff was the target, then why would they shoot him at Hannah’s store? If someone was after him, then there were plenty of other places they could have shot him.”
“If Hannah was the target, then why didn't they shoot her?”
“I don’t know.”
“If there was an ulterior motive to this robbery, then I think we should be looking at Jeff and not Hannah.”
“We will look at Jeff. When his doctors clear him, we’ll interview him and see if there’s anyone who might want to hurt him by staging a robbery.”
“Why would we think it was staged as a robbery at all? I mean, they broke in, they smashed the glass cases and took what they could, they try to get the code for the safe so they can take even more with them. Then, when they can't get what they came for, they turn violent to try to get it. Why would we look at this as anything other than a robbery gone wrong?”
“Because we want to look at all the possibilities,” he replied, or rather, lied. Tom couldn’t explain why he thought this was not just an ordinary robbery. “Two different groups of men committed these crimes, and we have to look at the motivations. We don’t have any forensics yet, so we need to keep ourselves open to everything.”
“I agree. We do have to keep ourselves open to everything. Including to the possibility that it’s just coincidence that there are two separate groups of robbers operating at the same time. And just because it does look like two different groups of perpetrators, that doesn’t mean this has anything to do with Hannah. I think you’re letting what happened to her and who she is to you cloud your judgment.”
Logic told him Chloe was right.
There was nothing to suggest that this was anything more than a random robbery.
So why couldn’t he shake the feeling that it was something more?
Was he just imagining things because it involved Hannah? Was he just after a reason to spend more time around her? Was he just after a scenario where this time he could save her?
Or was Hannah really in danger?
* * * * *
10:13 A.M.
It felt weird walking back in here.
She didn't want to be here.
She wanted to never come back here again.
But Hannah wouldn’t do that. She would never run away from things that scared her, no matter how tempting that may seem at times. It just wasn't who she was. She faced her problems, she tried to work through them, she tried to make the best of even the worst of situations. She had done it before, and she would do it again.
What had happened here at her store wouldn’t destroy her.
And it wouldn’t make her go back to that dark place.
She had worked so hard to get out of the dark and claw her way back to the light, or even the dull, she couldn’t go back there. Not under any circumstances. So, she had no choice but to process the robbery, deal with it as best she could, and move on.
Dwelling on the gun-wielding robbers wasn't going to be productive, and today was all about productivity. She had a lot of work to do. The cops and crime scene unit were finished in the store, and since, including today, there were only six shopping days left until Christmas, she had to get this place cleaned up so she could open tomorrow.
Her store was one big mess. There were glass shards all over the floor from where the robbers had smashed all the glass cases. She didn't remember hearing them do that, but obviously they had because the glass was everywhere and she could see some of her stock was missing. What they hadn’t grabbed was half still in the broken counters and half littered throughout the glass. The seven-foot Christmas tree that had been in the corner was lying on its side, fairy lights and tinsel tangled on the floor around it, and shattered decorations were scattered about. There was fingerprint powder everywhere from the crime scene unit, and she knew that through the door into her workroom, there was still the giant puddle of Jeff’s blood.
Tears threatened to swamp her.
She loved her store, but now being here was torture. Her mind wanted to keep replaying last night’s events over and over on a loop until it sent her insane.
“Deep breaths,” she ordered herself out loud. “Deep breaths.”
Following her own instructions, Hannah cleared her mind of everything else and focused on simply inhaling air through her nose and letting it whoosh out through her mouth.
When she felt marginally calmer, she faced her store.
She could do this.
One step at a time, just like always.
First thing she had to do was collect up all her inventory that have been left strewn about and put it in the safe where she could go through it later and make a list of everything that had been taken.
Unable to face the workroom and all the blood, for now she just left everything in a box by the door.
Once that was taken care of she couldn’t put off going through into the rest of the store any longer. She needed a broom to sweep up the glass and something to wipe down all the powder.
With another steadying breath, she opened the door, and without letting herself pause and over think things, she stepped through it. Her breathing quickened, and she began to shake. Hannah had to sternly remind herself that the gun was no longer in here and that Jeff was going to be okay.
This was silly.
She was going to have to do something about the gun phobia. She’d never really worried about it before because it wasn't like she came into contact with guns very often. Or ever. Last night had been the first one she had seen since the night of her assault.
But her phobia had nearly gotten her and her employees killed.
It was time to face that fear and find a way to conquer it. After Christmas, she would call her therapist and see about maybe trying some exposure therapy to work through her gun issues.
Feeling better now that she had decided to take action on overcoming her phobia, Hannah headed to the cupboard in the corner and collected cleaning supplies. For the next hour or so she was so immersed in her tasks that the fear and horror of the robbery began to fade, and the store began to feel more like it used to.
Finally, she paused and stretched her back.
There was only one task left.
The blood.
She’d been putting it off because the guilt that swamped her whenever she looked at it was almost crushing.
How could she ever face Jeff again? He had tried to save her from being shot and gotten himself shot instead.
She sucked her bottom lip in and chewed on it, forcing back the tears that burned the backs of her eyes.
Jeff was going to be okay. She just had to keep reminding herself of that, as many times as it took for it to sink in.
Filling a bucket with water, she sank down on her knees and soaked the cloth, ready to begin scrubbing, but she just couldn’t. She felt so overwhelmed. It had been a long time since she felt this way. And part of it was seeing Tom again. That brought up memories from her rape, which had eventually led to their divorce.
The towel Tom had used to clean her up last night still lay discarded, right where she’d been sitting. Hannah picked it up and studied it as though it held the answers to the questions swirling around inside her head.
She was so confused about Tom.
She had never been so hurt in her life than when he had told her he was leaving. After everything they had been through, she’d thought they would be together forever.
But he’d seen things differently.
He had seen her as a helpless victim, and neither of them had been able to work around that perception.
Was she a victim?
Yes.
Was she helpless?
Never.
While she wanted to regain the sense of strength and confidence and stability that had been ripped away from her, Tom wanted to hold her in his arms and rock her and promise her that everything would be okay.
But being coddled didn't help her.
And being told everything would be okay certainly didn't help.
She’d been brutally raped. How could anything ever be okay again?
Just because things couldn’t be okay didn't mean they couldn’t get better. She had worked so hard to rebuild her life. She had gone to the victims’ support group and talked with other survivors of sexual assault about how they were coping. She had seen her therapist religiously and worked diligently on everything the woman had asked her to do. She had taken her medication even though the idea of taking it left her a little uneasy. And she had kept going with all the regular things she did in her life—work, gym, shopping, chores, eating out, seeing friends—when most days all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry.
She had fought for her life because she didn't want her rape to define her.
Not that it had been easy.
And it really hadn’t.
It had been hell.
Almost as bad as enduring the assault itself.
She’d had nightmares. Regularly waking several times a night screaming or drenched in an ice cold sweat, she’d had flashbacks to the assault. She started becoming hypervigilant of her surroundings, constantly checking everyone who was around her and trying to judge whether they could be a threat or not. She started to obsessively check things like whether every door and window in the house was locked before she went to bed, sometimes spending close to an hour just circling the house checking them repeatedly.
With time, she had learned to manage all those things. The fear was still there, like a distant shadow hovering in the recesses of her mind. The compulsion to vigilantly study her surroundings and to check and recheck her home each night was always there. Hannah knew those things would never leave her, but so long as she could manage them, then she felt like she had overcome what had happened to her.
She just wished that Tom had seen it the same way.
He had wanted to fix everything for her, and what had happened couldn’t be fixed. It could only be treated.
He had been supportive of her seeing a therapist and comforted her more nights than she could count when nightmares had plagued her. But he couldn’t shake the need to save her.
She hadn’t needed a savior; all she’d needed was her husband.
But he had walked away.
And she had let him.
Not because it was easy, but because letting him go was what was best for him.
Hannah couldn’t blame him for leaving. Three years ago, when everything had been so fresh, she had been such a mess. They had both known she had a long road ahead of her, and she couldn’t really fault him for choosing not to walk it with her.
And she knew that he had been suffering, too. She had asked him several times to come and see a therapist with her, or to go on his own if he preferred, but he hadn’t been ready to admit that he needed it. Tom couldn’t accept that what had happened had happened to both of them, and that both of them needed time to heal.
She wasn't angry with Tom for walking away from their marriage; it just hurt. A lot. So much that she wasn't sure she could ever move past it. She still loved him. Probably always would. But sometimes love wasn't enough. She hadn’t thought that those feelings would ever be stirred up again. They were divorced. She had her life; he had his. There was no reason for their lives to intersect.
Until yesterday.
Now, for the next little while at least, Tom was back in her life.
He was an added complication when she really didn't need one.
She scrunched her eyes closed and wished she could make the last twenty-four hours so they never happened.
Instead, when she opened her eyes, she saw Tom standing in front of her.
* * * * *
11:47 A.M.
Her eyes, which today were a desolate blue gray like the ocean on a winter’s day, widened in surprise when she opened them to see him standing there. “Tom.”
“You shouldn’t be here on your own.” He said the words without thinking, and only because he hated to see Hannah suffer. And he knew being here cleaning up the mess from last night’s robbery would make her suffer.
Immediately, her eyes darkened and she scowled at him. “I'm not a child, I can do things myself. I don’t need someone to come in here and clean up for me. There are only a few days left until Christmas, and I want to make the most of them.” With that, she sloshed the towel in her hands into the bucket of water at her side, sending droplets splashing all over the place, and began to scrub the floor.
“I never said you were a child, Hannah,” he said softly. He didn't know why she got so crazy every time he expressed concern.
“You always treat me like one. Like I'm helpless and useless and couldn’t possibly be able to cope all on my own.”
He had never once thought of Hannah as any of those things. Quite the opposite, in fact. He thought she was smart and strong, more resilient than he could ever imagine being. “I'm sorry if I gave you that impression, but I don’t think you're helpless and useless. I never thought that.”
Hannah merely harrumphed and continued scrubbing vigorously at the bloodstain on the floor.
For a moment, all Tom could do was stare at it.
What if Jeff Shields hadn’t come in when he had? Then it wouldn’t be his blood spattered all over the floor and walls. It would be Hannah’s.
To know that she had come so close to being shot choked him up in a way that made him know that no matter how much time passed or how much distance there was between them, part of him would always love Hannah.
Tom went to her, crouched at her side, and put his hands over hers, stilling them. “I never thought you were incapable of coping on your own. I don’t know why you’d even think that.”
“You don’t know why I would think that?” she repeated incredulously. “Maybe because after the attack you hovered over me constantly, wanting to do everything for me, acting like you could just wipe it all away by pretending it never happened. Well, it happened, Tom. It happened.”
“I know it happened. I was there.”
“Yeah, you were. So, maybe instead of trying to coddle me, you should have encouraged me to get strong again.”
“I did.”
“You didn't. You treated me like a victim.”
He bit his tongue to keep from reminding her that she had been a victim. “I don’t know why you acted like me wanting to be there for you was such a bad thing. You pushed me away every chance you got.”
“I never pushed you away.”
“That was all you did.” Sometimes it felt like they had lived in two completely different worlds after the assault.
“Wanting to do things for myself wasn't pushing you away.”
“It was like you didn't want me around anymore.”
“You're the one who walked away, not me.”
“I walked away because it was what you wanted.”
“How did you know it was what I wanted? Did you ask me? No, you didn't. You just assumed that and walked out the door, never looking back.”
“You shut me out at every opportunity, Hannah.”
“You were smothering me. You treated me like if you didn't hover at my side every second I was going to shatter into a million pieces. You wanted to focus on me so you didn't have to admit that you were struggling every bit as much as I was. You're not superman, Tom, and I didn't need you to be. I just wanted you to be you. But you wouldn’t do that. Either I let you take care of me or nothing. Well what if I wanted to take care of you, too? We should have been taking care of each other.”
He didn't know what to say to that.
Was she right?
Had he been so stubborn that it was either his way or no way?
He had honestly thought that Hannah hadn’t wanted him around anymore. That she had chosen to shut herself off and deal with what had happened by herself—without him. But obviously she saw things differently.
“I'm not broken, Tom. I would never let those men win and break me. Only you didn't see it that way. You saw me as a project to fix. Not as a human being anymore. Not as your wife anymore.” Tears shimmered in her eyes, making them bluer. “You threw our marriage away because you didn't support me getting better.”
How could she even think that? Didn't support her getting better? That was ridiculous. He would have done anything to help Hannah get through what had happened. “I don’t know why you say such absurd stuff.”
“Absurd was throwing away a marriage because you were too stubborn to admit you needed help, too.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Yes, it was.”
“No, it wasn't.”
“Yes, it was.”
“No, it wasn't.”
“Yes, it was!”
“You’re impossible,” he huffed, releasing her hand and standing, stalking across the room, aggravated. Why did she have to argue about everything? Why couldn’t the two of them be in the same room together without things disintegrating into childish bickering?
“Well, there’s the door; feel free to use it.” She shrugged with a perfect air of disinterest he would have believed if he didn't know her so well. The slight tremor that rippled through her told the story of how her emotions were in disarray.
The tremor reminded him of how badly she’d been shaking when he’d arrived here last night.
Which reminded him of the robbery and just why he’d come looking for her.
Getting distracted with arguing wasn't helpful right now. He had a job to do. So long as he kept reminding himself that this was just a job, and that he could walk away again once it was complete, he should be able to get through it without endless quarreling.
Hannah’s life was nothing to mess with, and he would take her frustrated lashing out so long as it kept her safe.
Just a job.
If he had to remind himself of that a hundred times a day, he would.
Just a job.
He returned to her side, picked up a towel, and began to help her clean the floor.
“I thought you were leaving.”
“For once, just let me help you without arguing. You don’t have to do everything on your own all the time.”
She said nothing, and for a while they worked in silence.
When they were done, he took the bucket and emptied it out in the bathroom. When he came back into the workroom, Hannah was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, her head tipped back and her eyes closed.
“Why are you here, Tom?” she asked without opening her eyes.
“Because I'm worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will. But something feels different about the robbery at your store.”
That prompted her to open her eyes and look at him. “Different, how?” she asked suspiciously.
“I'm not convinced it was committed by the same people who committed the others.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Hannah looked confused.
“There are some differences. The main one being that a gang of three armed men robbed the other stores, and only two armed men held up you and your employees.”
“Maybe one just couldn’t be there last night,” she countered.
“Maybe. But I don’t think it’s related.”
“So, there’re two groups of thieves looking to make a quick buck robbing jewelry stores this Christmas?” She closed her eyes again, and wearily rested her head back against the wall.
“Maybe.”
Her head snapped up. “What do you mean maybe? What else could it be?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Chloe was right, he had to make sure he wasn't seeing monsters where there weren’t any just because of his history with Hannah.
“Tom?”
“It probably is just two gangs of thieves committing robberies.”
“But?” she prompted.
“But I just want you to be careful, in case it’s something else.”
“Something else like you think this could be personal?”
“Could it be?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” He wanted something much more concrete than that. He wanted Hannah to give him an absolute denial that the robbery being anything more than a random robbery was out of the question.
“Who would want to target me through my store? There’s no one. No one who would want to hurt me. If it’s not random, maybe it’s Jeff or Vincent they were really interested in.”
“Do you think it could be?”
“I don’t think so. Not Jeff. And Vincent is just the son of a friend who needed a job. I don’t know much about him, but I can't imagine robbing my store would be a good way to hurt him if someone wanted to. Do you really think this could be more than just a random robbery?”
Fear crept into her face, and he wanted to say whatever it took to wipe it away. Instead, he said, “I can't discount the possibility.”
“Oh.” Her face fell, and she began to chew on her lower lip, a sure sign she was stressed and scared but trying not to show it.
“I don’t want you to worry. I’ll figure it out,” he assured her.
“Yeah, you will,” she said, a hint of sadness in her tone.
The sadness hit him harder than the fear. It was like no matter what he did, he caused her pain.
Just a job, he reminded himself, just a job.
When it was over, he could walk away just like he’d done before, then he would never hurt Hannah again.
* * * * *
3:19 P.M.
“Yes, ma’am, we can certainly call another store and see if they have this bangle in white gold.” Chloe smiled at the woman in front of her.
“And what about this one?” The woman pointed at another bracelet in the glass case. “Can I try it on, please?”
“Of course.”
As she opened the cabinet, Chloe let her mind wander. She really hoped this plan worked. They had to get these armed robbers off the street. Today was the day the gang usually hit so they were hoping that despite last night’s change in plans, they went back to their usual schedule and hit again. They had agents in all the stores they thought were viable targets, playing the roles of both employees and customers.
She had enthusiastically volunteered to take part. She didn't want to sit on the sidelines in one of the vans watching the streets outside the stores to keep watch for anyone who might be the men they were after. She wanted to be right in the thick of things.
Being an FBI agent was her dream job.
Ever since she was ten, Chloe had known this was what she wanted to do with her life. What she was meant to do with her life. That day had set the whole course of her life into motion, and now she was finally living her dream. She was here, on only her second case, working as a decoy, and anxiously hoping that if the robbers hit today, that it would be this store.
Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach. As much as she wanted to be here, and as much as she didn't think that the men they were looking for were going to hurt her or anyone else, adrenalin was still flying through her system.
Chloe agreed with her partner that it looked like they were after two different sets of criminals.
One that had committed the first four robberies. They’d gotten away with minimal jewelry and hadn’t done more than threaten customers and employees. They hadn’t physically hurt anyone, and they seemed to just get in and out and away as quickly as possible by grabbing whatever they could get their hands on in the glass showcases. They didn’t want to risk waiting until a silent alarm brought cops running.
And one who’d tried to play it big but ended up walking away with next to nothing.
She might agree with Tom on that, but she didn't agree that the robbery at his ex’s store was anything but a robbery. Sure, two robberies by two different perpetrators so close together was unusual, but it certainly wasn't out of the realm of possibility.
Although Chloe understood why her partner saw it differently. His judgment was clouded by his personal connection to the victim. She was intrigued by Tom’s past with Hannah, but was resisting the urge to go and look up the woman’s case to find out the details. She liked working with Tom, and she thought she could learn a lot from him, but not if she broke trust between them. They needed to trust one another; their lives might one day depend on it. Hopefully, once she and Tom got to know each other better, he would tell her about what had happened with his ex-wife himself.
A chime broke her train of thought, and her gaze snapped to the store’s door, half expecting to see three men in clown masks wielding guns come storming in.
Instead, it was a couple. A man and woman who were off-duty cops at the local precinct and playing the parts of a young couple choosing an engagement ring. While Chloe continued to deal with the cop pretending to be interested in a new gold and sapphire bracelet, a man—another special agent—went to show engagement rings to the couple.
This was exactly how she had imagined her job.
Being right in the thick of things.
She could get used to this buzz.
The fun of lying in wait to catch her prey.
The power rush knowing that the robbers were going to walk right into a perfectly crafted trap.
She didn't want to give this up for anything.
And yet . . .
There was a chance she would have to.
At least for a while.
Her hand strayed to her stomach where her baby was growing.
Getting pregnant had been a mistake. Well, not a mistake; more like a severe case of bad timing. She and her boyfriend had been together for almost two years, but she had just graduated from the FBI academy and started her dream job. Having to take time off now was not the optimum.
No one knew yet. She was only a month or so along, so she had a little bit of time before she had to start telling people. She hadn’t even told her boyfriend. She was on the pill, so it was going to come as a major shock to him. It had come as a major shock to her. It was the last thing she’d been expecting.
Now she didn't know what to do.
She loved her job and didn't want to have to give it up, even just for a few months. Once she got too far along, she would be relegated to a desk. That was her worst nightmare. She wanted to be out in the field, catching bad guys and helping people, not sitting in an office. And then when the baby came, it would be maternity leave, but she didn't want to spend her days stuck in the house changing diapers and preparing bottles.
But the only way to avoid both was dramatic and not something she even wanted to consider, although . . .
“Chloe.”
She started at her partner’s voice, and turned, expecting to see him standing behind her.
Then she remembered she was wearing an earpiece and her partner was in a van parked outside the store.
Resisting the urge to answer him, she smiled at the woman in front of her and set out another bracelet for her to try on.
“Three men approaching. One minute out. Could be our guys.”
Adrenalin surged.
This was it.
The first time she was ever going to be in a potentially dangerous situation. Chloe clung to her training. It had all boiled down to this one moment.
The door swung open.
Three men, with guns drawn and wearing clown masks, entered.
No one made a move yet.
They wanted to let the men make the first move, so there could be no doubt when this went to court that their intentions had been to rob the store. They didn't want the men arguing that it had just been some prank or some other ridiculous defense.
“No one move,” one ordered, crossing to the nearest counter, which just so happened to be the one she was standing behind.
Her stomach in knots, it took every ounce of self-restraint she possessed not to pull out her gun and badge and order the men down on the ground.
While one of the men remained at the door, the other two started to smash the glass cabinets and grab whatever they could get their hands on, stuffing it into bags.
In her earpiece, she heard someone count down.
“Three, two, one.”
At one, the officers who were waiting out of sight in the back room and the cops, including her partner, who were surrounding the building, all burst out, guns drawn.
“Down, down, down, on your knees!”
As orders were shouted out, the three men panicked.
Two obviously weighed up their options and decided the smartest course of action was to comply, discarding their weapons and dropping to the floor.
The third—the one standing just in front of her—remained on his feet.
She was about to order him down again, when suddenly he flew over the counter and pressed his gun to her head. His arm across her chest pinned her firmly against him.
He yelled something to the rest of the cops, something she didn't hear but assumed was a threat that if they did anything he would blow her brains out.
There was no way Chloe was being the human shield this man used to walk out of here. Besides, she could handle this. She didn't need to wait for the others to try to talk him down.
When he started to pull her backward toward the office space at the back, she placed her hands on his forearm and pulled it a little farther from her neck so she could make her move. She slammed her head back, connecting squarely with the man’s nose, then without stopping, she lifted her foot and brought it down firmly on his. Then she dropped one hand and hit his groin, then rammed her elbow into his ribs and up into his jaw, before twisting out of his grip.
Caught off guard, he released her, and as she moved herself out of reach, he lashed out with his fist and connected firmly with her stomach.
As pain radiated out across her body, everything else but her baby fled from her mind.
* * * * *
3:52 P.M.
Images of Hannah with a gun held at her head flashed through his mind as one of the armed robbers launched across the glass cabinets and wrapped an arm around his partner, yanking her against his chest and shoving his gun to her temple.
Tom had to block those memories out so he could focus.
While a couple of officers cuffed the two other robbers, the rest of the agents and officers in the room focused on the hostage situation.
“Put your guns down or I shoot her,” the masked man screamed.
Not a single cop lowered their weapon.
You didn't have to be able to see the man’s face to know that he was panicked. He was in way over his head. What he had thought was going to be a simple grab-and-run robbery had suddenly escalated, and now he didn't know what to do. Tom prayed he played it smart.
“You’re not walking out of this building except in handcuffs,” he told the man, pleased when his voice came out strong and calm despite the near deafening sound of his pulse thumping in his ears.
The man inched his way backward toward the door that led through to the office and then out onto the street. “I’m not going back to prison.”
And no one in this room was letting him walk out of it holding an FBI special agent as a human shield.
Which only left death.
Tom hoped the man was smart enough not to take the suicide by cop route.
“Think about what you’re doing,” he urged the man who didn't sound much older than a kid. “So far, you haven't hurt anyone. You want to keep it that way. Release the woman and put your weapon down,” he ordered.
“No. No prison.” The kid sounded on the verge of tears.
Before Tom could say more, Chloe suddenly flung her head back into the man’s face and executed a self-defense move to free herself from the robber’s grip.
Startled, the man released her, but as she twisted away, he managed to get in a blow to her abdomen.
Several people lunged at the man, tackling him to the ground, while Tom darted forward, hooked an arm across Chloe’s chest and dragged her out of reach.
Was his partner insane?
What had possessed her to do that?
She could have gotten herself killed.
They would have talked the man down.
As he released her, Chloe rolled into a ball, her arms wrapped around her stomach. How badly was she hurt?
“I need medics,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Chloe,” he gently tugged on her shoulders until she lifted her head.
Her eyes had been closed but she opened them to stare up at him. “I’m pregnant. My baby.”
Pregnant?
Chloe was pregnant?
If he’d known that, he would never have allowed her to take part in the sting. He would have made sure she was safely in the van beside him. He was her supervising officer and he was responsible for her safety. Not only could she have been killed or seriously injured, but her unborn baby could have, as well.
“He hit my stomach, am I bleeding? What if he hurt the baby?” Tears were brimming in her brown eyes, and her bottom lip wobbled.
“How far along are you?”
“A month.”
Tom relaxed. “Then the baby should be fine. In the first trimester, the uterus isn’t exposed. It’s still protected by the pelvis, the chances of a blow to your stomach harming the fetus are low.”
“How do you know that?” she asked warily.
“Sister’s an OB-GYN,” he replied. He knew more about pregnancies and childbirth than most fathers with several kids.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive, but we’ll get you checked out to confirm that the baby is okay.”
Chloe relaxed and sank back against the floor, releasing the death grip she’d had on her stomach. He suspected she had been more afraid than she had been in pain.
As his partner relaxed, Tom felt his blood pressure rise.
She had endangered herself and her child. While her little self-defense stunt had worked, it could just as easily not have.
“Did they get him?” Chloe sat up and turned her attention to where the man who’d held her at gunpoint was being cuffed and dragged to his feet. Someone had removed his mask, and she said, “He looks so young. Probably still a teenager.”
How could she act like nothing had happened?
If she had been seriously hurt or killed, or if she had miscarried her baby, he would never have forgiven himself for putting her in a potentially dangerous situation.
His fear and guilt channeled themselves into anger. “What were you thinking? You don’t ever do something that reckless! What if his finger had tightened on the trigger when you hit him? He would have fired. The bullet would have gone straight through that thick head of yours. If you hadn’t been so stubborn and too busy thinking that you’re bulletproof, you could have waited while we talked him down and got you safely away from him.”
Chloe’s eyes grew wide. “Everything worked out fine.”
But it might not have.
He remembered back when he had first started his career in the FBI. He had been just like Chloe—young, enthusiastic, eager, bulletproof. Back then everything had seemed so simple. Catch the bad guys. That was all he’d wanted to do, and he had been prepared to do whatever it took to do it.
Then that night had happened, and his life had changed.
In one instant, he had learned that sometimes the bad guys won.
When he had watched his wife be gang raped, believing that when they were finished torturing her they were going to kill her and then him, his world had ceased to be simple.
Now he was careful, weighing the risks and the pros and cons of every situation before making a move. Now he didn't take unnecessary risks. He knew just how fragile life truly was.
One day, Chloe would learn that, too.
He just prayed it wasn't in such a tragic way as he had learned the lesson.
“I don’t know why you’re being so melodramatic.” His partner was looking at him like he’d suddenly grown two heads. “I thought the purpose of learning those self-defense skills was to use them in situations such as someone holding a gun to your head. We all know no one was letting him walk out of here with me. And no one really wanted to shoot him. He’s just a kid, and he most likely never physically hurt anyone. I saved anyone from having to shoot him. Everything worked out fine, Tom; there’s no need to stress.”
Stress was a natural part of his life now.
Born that night, it grew as he watched Hannah struggle to deal with what had happened to her. Now it was as much a part of him as breathing.
Chloe’s blasé attitude didn't fool him. He saw the flicker of fear in her eyes. No one could have a gun held to their head and not be at least a little moved by the vivid confrontation of their own mortality. Hopefully that was as close as she ever got to thinking she would die until she was an old woman who had lived her life to the fullest.
Still, Chloe seemed to be holding it together. She was calm and in control, although he suspected a lot of that was keeping up appearances in front of their colleagues. But she was right; she was fine, uninjured, although he would make sure paramedics checked her out to determine she and her baby were okay.
He needed to calm himself down.
This situation with Hannah had him more stressed out than usual.
Now, at least, they could get some answers. They had the robbers, and once they interviewed them, they’d be able to confirm that these three kids had not held his ex at gunpoint and shot her employee. Then, once they knew that, they could start going through Hannah’s life and those of the two men there with her that night, to see whether any of them could be the target.
Tom already knew the answer, though. He felt it in his bones. This was about Hannah, and he would do whatever it took to make sure she didn't end up with another gun held at her head.