She pulled out her phone to send Matt a text. She had multiple messages from him telling her that Zack was entering the building armed and asking where she was. She hadn’t heard her phone ring or felt it vibrate because of the general chaos.
She responded: I’m in the 1st floor hall. Cops?
Just because she hadn’t heard or seen officers didn’t mean first responders weren’t already in the building. She would not hear sirens over the fire alarm. She could barely hear her own thoughts. She needed to be on the lookout for law enforcement as much as Zack. She was armed and not in a uniform. They could shoot her by accident. Did they know she was inside the building?
Shit.
She sent Todd a text letting him know she was inside the building and armed.
Todd responded: Teams getting into place.
The sheriff’s department was coming. Hallelujah. But once they were inside the building, the squealing alarm would render police radios useless. Communication would be difficult. Bree couldn’t count on police response. On the bright side, Zack would not hear her sloshing through the half inch of water on the tile. But she wouldn’t be able to hear him either. They could surprise each other at any moment.
Just in case the alarms shut off, she turned her phone to silent before sticking it back in her pocket. Then she crept down the dim corridor into the main salon. The sprinklers continued to run, soaking everything, including Bree as she moved into the big room.
Boom!
She jumped. That was the second loud blast she’d heard.
What was it?
Explosion? Shotgun?
Bree’s heartbeat echoed in her ears. Her body dumped a fresh load of adrenaline into her bloodstream. Her pupils dilated, improving her sight in the dimness, but also narrowing her field of vision. She fought the tunnel vision with a deep breath, holding the air in her lungs for three heartbeats before slowly letting it out.
Another boom echoed. It seemed to come from the direction of the nail area. Had Zack circled back? She turned. Leading with her weapon, she moved toward the sound.
Though it was dark outside, windows in the main room let in light from the parking lot. The room was brighter than the hallways had been.
Shaking water from her eyes, Bree scanned the space. Nothing moved. Anyone who was left was either dead, wounded, or hiding. She hoped most had escaped like Steph. Bree passed the pedicure room. Empty. She swept her gun through the manicure area. A large pile of wet debris on the floor smoldered. Who had set a fire?
The fire alarm shut off abruptly, leaving Bree’s ears ringing, but water still poured from the sprinklers. Something cracked overhead. Bree looked up, instinctively shielding her face. A ceiling tile, heavy and saturated with water, dropped to the floor with a boom.
The sound hadn’t been a shotgun.
She kept moving into the large main room, aware of the slosh of her sneakers in the water. Crouching, she slipped past hair stations. A scream echoed in the large, open space.
Bree moved toward it.
She stopped just short of the lobby. The scream had come from the opening of the spiral staircase.
Zack was upstairs.
Something moved on the other side of the room. Matt. Her gaze met his. She pointed to her own chest and then at the spiral stairs. Then she pointed to Matt and made what she hoped was a climbing-stairs motion with her fingers. Then she pointed to the south corner of the building. If she could go up the spiral steps, and Matt used one of the side staircases, they could box Zack in.
Matt shook his head and started toward her, tapping his own chest. He knew the spiral stairs had no cover, and he wanted to be the one to go up them. Bree pointed harder toward the southern corner. She appreciated the chivalry, but they didn’t have time for it.
“No.” The voice of a begging woman floated down the spiral staircase. “No. Please. I have children.”
A single gunshot. A scream. Then crying, quieter, desperate.
Bree and Matt locked gazes again. She jabbed her finger toward the side staircase. Grimacing, he nodded, spun, and ran toward the hall. He moved fast, and the building wasn’t large. It would only take him a minute or so to get into position. Now she had to do the same.
Bree’s heart hammered and her stomach knotted as she moved toward the staircase. She paused at the bottom, pointing her gun up the center of the curving steps.
She couldn’t see Zack, and she’d be vulnerable on the stairs. There was no getting around it. Bree put her foot on the first tread and started up the steps. She wound around, stopping as her head became level with the second-floor landing.
“There you are,” Zack said.
Bree froze. Had he seen her?
“Please stop.” A woman’s voice cracked in fear.
Bree exhaled. Zack was talking to someone else.
She peered over the top tread. The woman wearing a black spa robe stood on the second-floor landing. She was turned three-quarters away from Bree. Next to her, a female employee sobbed on the floor. Her hands clutched at her thigh. Blood seeped around her hands.
Behind the two women, Zack stood about ten feet away. He was pointing a gun at them. The robed woman stepped between Zack and the wounded woman.
The women were positioned between Bree and Zack. Bree had no shot.
Agitated, Zack shook. His hands—and the weapon—trembled hard. His eyes were wide open, and he licked his lips over and over. He was going to shoot again. Bree knew it.
Where was Matt?
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Matt raced down the hall. Without the alarm blaring, the building was eerily quiet, except for the sound of sprinklers still running in the main salon behind him. The sprinklers and audible alarm were not on the same system. The sprinklers would run until someone shut them off. Unfortunately, the fire crew would not be allowed into an active shooter situation.
The last gunshot had sounded from above. Zack was upstairs. Matt ran, hoping Bree would wait until he was in position. Once on the staircase, she’d be an open target.
As he rounded the corner, his wet boots skidded on the tiles. He put a hand on the wall to stop his forward momentum and opened the door leading to the side stairwell.
Matt took the steps two at a time. Pausing at the top, he eased open the door and slid into the upstairs hallway. He could see Zack fifty feet ahead, his back to Matt, his gun pointed toward a woman in a knee-length black robe, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Next to the robed woman, a spa employee was trying to stop the bleeding of a leg wound.
Matt slowed. What he wouldn’t give to have his long gun.
He moved closer. Commercial carpeting covered the upstairs hall, and his boots were silent, but he moved slowly and smoothly, doing his best not to attract Zack’s attention.
Something moved just beyond the blonde woman. The top of a head popped over the landing of the spiral staircase. Bree, in position.
A fresh shot of adrenaline burst through Matt’s veins. They’d successfully trapped Zack, but the robed woman was in the way.
He aimed Bree’s baby Glock at Zack, but the distance was still too great. He could not shoot Zack without endangering the woman. Frustration surged through him. His aim would never be good enough for a shot like this again. Hell, he couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t hit Bree, not at this distance. He needed to get the woman out of the way so Bree could take out Zack. But how?
Maybe he could distract Zack.
No. Bad idea. The guy was twitchy as hell. Any unexpected noise was just as likely to make Zack pull the trigger. Matt had only one choice. He had to get closer. Much closer.
He had to be the distraction. He had to demand Zack’s attention.
He eased farther up the corridor. Now that he was out in the open, his skin itched with vulnerability, like heat rash. If Zack looked his way, Matt was completely exposed. Zack could shoot at him, and Matt couldn’t even return fire for fear of hitting an innocent bystander.
Zack walked toward
the woman, his gait unsteady. He grabbed her by the ponytail and shoved the gun into the soft flesh under her chin. Was he deciding whether or not to kill her? Or was he dragging out the moment to make her suffer? Was he losing his shit and no longer thinking at all? Didn’t matter. Matt couldn’t let her die.
Matt called out, “Drop the gun!”
Zack’s gun swung away from the woman and toward Matt. Zack released the woman and fired. Matt dove for the floor, shoulder rolling into an open doorway. The bullet hit the doorframe, and wood splintered.
Matt landed on his feet and returned to the doorway, peering around the frame. Zack had turned his back on the robed woman.
“I’m going to kill you!” Zack screamed, advancing on Matt. Zack’s face was red, the veins in his neck bulging as if he was going to stroke out.
Matt fired into the wall opposite Zack, well away from the woman in the hall. Zack flinched, but his steps didn’t slow. He came at Matt as if he were invincible, or a robot.
Or as if he didn’t care if he lived or died.
If that was the case, there would be only one way to stop him.
Behind Zack, Matt saw Bree climb onto the landing. Her gun was drawn, but the robed woman was still in her way.
She passed the wounded employee and yelled at the robed woman, “Get down!”
If the woman in the robe dropped to her knees, Bree would have Zack cold. Hopefully, this would happen before Zack shot Matt through the wall.
The robed woman’s head turned. Matt held his breath.
“Zack!”
Who was that?
A black-clad employee stepped between the robed woman and Zack. Steph. She must have come up the center hallway. No doubt her intentions were to save her coworker, but she’d just fucked up everything.
“Please don’t hurt anyone else,” Steph said, her words shaky. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Her hands were raised, the palms toward Zack in surrender. She was clearly intent on de-escalating Zack, but she’d probably just signed her own death certificate.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Steph.
Bree’s heart compressed. Instead of leaving or hiding with the others, Steph had come looking for her husband.
Kudos for her courage and loyalty, but shit, shit, shit.
Three more seconds and Bree would have put him down. Now they were back in the same situation, with Steph between Bree and Zack.
“Please don’t shoot me,” Steph said. “I’m carrying our baby. Your baby.”
“It’s probably not even mine.” Zack put his back to the wall. He pulled a second gun from his waistband and pointed it at his wife. The first he kept aimed at Matt.
“I never cheated on you,” Steph said. “Ever.”
He shook his head. “You lie.”
“No! Of course it’s your baby, Zack,” Steph said, her voice both terrified and hurt. “How could you think anything else?”
“Because you lied to me.” Zack’s tone was flat.
“No,” Steph said. “Never.”
Quiet stretched time for a few seconds.
“I don’t believe you.” Zack’s voice—and his aim—wavered. “You packed your shit before you went to work this morning. You’re leaving me. An honest wife doesn’t do that.”
“I was leaving you because you scared me, and I want to protect our baby.” Desolation and hopelessness edged Steph’s comment. “I can’t change the fact that you don’t trust me. I’ve never been unfaithful to you. I’ve loved you from the very first moment we met. We had something special. But you let your unfounded jealousy come between us.”
“You cheated.” His face and tone were emotionless.
“No, Zack. I never did.”
But his eyes were dark and unbelieving—unforgiving.
“Ever since you lost your job, you’ve been insecure,” Steph said. “You invented failings for me and tried to make them come true. I’ve done everything I can think of to make you happy. I don’t know what else to do. Tell me. What do you want from me?”
“I won’t let you leave. You belong to me.” Zack never blinked. Nothing his wife said got through to him. His boot tapped on the floor, and his weight shifted back and forth. Nerves and adrenaline fighting for an outlet in a still body.
Bree had seen it a few times before. Zack had decided he’d been wronged, and hearing otherwise didn’t penetrate his personal conviction. He’d nursed his perceived wrong. He had nowhere else to direct his anger—and he’d invested so much energy into his belief that he wasn’t willing or able to let it go.
Zack pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, empty.
“Steph, get down!” Bree yelled.
But Steph seemed frozen.
Backing partially into the doorway behind him, Zack threw one gun to the floor and transferred the gun he’d been pointing at Matt to his right hand. He pointed it at Steph. Tears ran down her face, her chest heaved as if she’d just run a full-out sprint, but she didn’t move. Her gaze remained fixed on her husband.
“Please don’t.” Steph’s hands dropped to hug her belly, as if she could block bullets with her forearms.
Bree ran forward, moving to the side of the hallway, trying to get a clear shot around Steph.
A body charged out of the doorway. Matt. But he was several strides away and an open target. Bree fired a wide shot to distract Zack. He fired back at her. Bree ducked into a doorway. Bits of wallboard exploded as the bullet hit the wall a few feet away. She peered around the frame. “Steph, run!”
But Steph was still rooted in place.
Matt charged across the hall. Zack pulled back into his own doorway. Clicking sounds indicated he was reloading. Matt took Steph down to the floor and covered her with his body. Zack stepped out into the hall. He swung his gun arm in an arc toward Matt and Steph. The muzzle dropped toward his targets on the floor.
Bree cleared the doorway, leveled her weapon, and fired at him. Three shots hit him in rapid succession. Three spots of blood bloomed on his chest.
“Drop the gun!” Bree yelled.
Instead, he raised his weapon and brought it around toward her.
She fired again, the fourth shot landing in the dead center of his chest. He went down to his knees. The gun dropped from his hand.
Bree leaped forward and kicked the weapon away. She moved to the first gun he’d thrown away and kicked that down the hall as well. His vest was bulky, with large pockets. She couldn’t tell if he had any additional weapons. She eased closer and pointed the gun at his face. “Show me your hands!”
She didn’t think he was dead. The bad guys only died instantaneously on TV, and she’d seen men survive multiple bullet wounds.
“Show me your hands!” she yelled again.
“Police!” Sheriff’s deputies carrying riot shields and AR-15s appeared at each end of the hallway. Another team approached from the center corridor.
“Off-duty police officer!” Bree lowered her gun and backed away, but she didn’t set it down where Zack could reach it. He’d killed at least one woman and shot at minimum two more. He’d fired at his own pregnant wife. She had no doubt if he was still breathing, he’d try to shoot someone else.
She let her gun dangle, her finger in the trigger guard. She raised her other hand in a classic surrender position. The deputies swarmed her. Bree released her weapon and let herself be handcuffed. She expected it. Standard procedure was to secure everyone involved—especially the armed people—and sort them out later.
Down the hall, Matt and the three women were being taken over by another team of deputies.
Bree could hear the disbelief in Steph’s voice over the sound of a dozen deputies and from twenty feet away.
“He pulled the trigger,” Steph said. “If the gun hadn’t been empty, he would have killed me.” Her hands cradled her belly. “He would have killed his own child.”
Bree sat on the floor as instructed. She’d killed a man, something she’d never done in more than a do
zen years on the Philadelphia PD. She would feel the impact of being the one to pull the trigger tomorrow. She had no doubt that taking a life would profoundly change her.
But for today, she’d grieve those Zack Wallace had killed. And she’d be grateful Steph, her baby, Matt, and Bree had all made it out of the incident alive.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Within an hour, Matt followed the sheriff’s department vehicles to the Wallace property. Lights swirled and sirens blared as they drove to the gray saltbox-style house. They parked in front of the detached garage and workshop. Matt and Bree leaped from the SUV and followed the deputies.
Todd had wanted them to go to the sheriff’s station and wait to be interviewed, but Matt had refused. Justin was probably dead, but Matt needed to know.
“Check the garage and workshop,” Matt shouted. Steph hadn’t seen Justin anywhere on the property, but she hadn’t been in Zack’s workshop in months because the sawdust smell had been making her nauseated. She didn’t even have a key to the building.
Todd gestured for them to hold up, and Matt and Bree reluctantly fell back while the deputies used a battering ram to open the side door on the garage. Two minutes later, they emerged.
“It’s clear,” Todd yelled. He and his men ran for the workshop.
Staring at the building, Matt propped a hand on his hip and rubbed his face. “If he’s alive, he has to be in there.”
What were the chances?
Bree took his hand. “You’ll know in a minute.”
“I should be in there. Zack is dead. He’s no longer a threat.”
“You know this is how it has to be.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “There could be booby traps.”
Matt was more worried about a dead body.
The deputies used the battering ram again. The workshop door flew open, and they filed inside.
“He’s here!” one of them shouted.
CROSS HER HEART Page 26