by Amy Reece
Malva moved to help her. “Let me hold that.” She took Izzy’s purse and closed the door for her.
“Thanks. I lost track of time. I hope I can find a parking space. I hate driving downtown!” She took her purse from Malva and began the search for her keys, which always managed to sink to the very blackest corner of her bag. “I should be back in a few hours.”
“No worries.” Malva held the front door for her. “Try to have a good time.”
Not likely. She took liberties with the speed limit on the freeway as she drove to the Hyatt, trying to remember which of the various one-way streets the parking garage could be accessed from. By the time she found a parking space and walked as quickly as she could without running, she had only five minutes to spare. Of course the luncheon was being held in the ballroom farthest from the entrance; by the time she found it, nearly everyone in the large crowd was seated. She showed her invitation to the woman manning the table by the door, picked up her name tag, and went inside to find a seat at one of the tables toward the back. She found one of the last remaining seats and draped her coat over the back of the chair before sitting and introducing herself to the people nearby. A salad was waiting on the table and the woman seated next to her passed the bread basket.
Izzy thanked her and took a rock-hard roll, barely resisting the urge to tap it on the edge of her salad plate. Hugh is gonna owe me! He usually handled events like this, as he was so much better at chatting people up and networking. He could bat those gorgeous blue eyes and flash his self-deprecating smile and have any woman in the vicinity eating out of his hand. The irritating part was he didn’t even realize how handsome and charming he was. Finn was known as the good-looking one of her brothers, but it was only in comparison; all her brothers were extremely handsome. Well, she could be chatty and charming when she tried, so she dug deep, turned to her neighbor, and struck up a conversation. Most of the people at her table were local business owners, from businesses as varied as a tech start-up company to a Nob Hill jewelry store Izzy thought she would need to visit soon. Maybe she could find something fun for the wedding. The entrees arrived and Izzy was pleased to note the Chicken Cordon Bleu was decent. By the time their plates were cleared and small pieces of dense chocolate cake were placed in front of them, the entire table was chatting happily and exchanging business cards. Izzy ate a few bites of her cake, but found it too rich for her taste and pushed it aside in favor of the coffee waiters were circulating the room with. As she moved the dessert plate, she uncovered the folded paper program, which had been hiding underneath. The first speaker stepped to the podium and began welcoming everyone, so Izzy took the opportunity to glance at the program, hoping it wouldn’t be too long. She had high hopes of getting back to the office in time to finish the account she’d been working on. It didn’t look too hopeful, however: there were two speakers scheduled after the mayor took the podium to talk about—what was the theme of this luncheon, anyway? She closed the program and studied the front: Albuquerque Multi-Cultural Initiative, March 4, 2017. The words were fashioned into a logo of sorts, with the first letters of each word bold and stylized. Izzy frowned as mental bells began to go off; what was it? There was something there, in the back of her—oh, God! She stared hard at the program cover, everything blurring except the letters AMCI March. Her hand trembled as she set the program on the table and reached for her phone. This is it. This is the event the note in Lyon’s file referred to and now the mayor and all these people are in danger! She wanted to scream at everyone to take cover or yell at the mayor to get off the raised dais at the front of the room where he was a perfect target, but she knew it would only cause a panic and/or get her arrested.
She forced herself to walk calmly to the hallway outside the ballroom before punching the button on her phone to call Mac. It rang three times before going to voicemail, a sure sign he had rejected her call because he was in the middle of something. Sorry, Mac. This can’t wait. She dialed again; still no answer. Cursing, she called Finn and was also sent straight to voicemail. “Goddammit! Answer your phone once in a while!” She paced, wondering what to do now. Should she call 911? Would they believe her? She heard the mayor being announced and realized there was no time for anything else. If there was a danger here to the mayor, she was the only one who knew and was in the position to help. She quickly dialed Mac again and left a brief message. “Mac. AMCI March is this luncheon I’m at. It’s the Mayor! Something’s going to happen to the mayor! Hurry!” She jogged back to the ballroom, cursing her decision to wear high heels today. She stopped to kick them off, slipping them into a potted plant and hoping she’d see them again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I believe Albuquerque is the finest city in the southwest, and I’m proud to be your mayor.” He paused for the obligatory applause. “As business owners, I don’t have to tell you that it’s also a challenging city. Being a majority-minority community is wonderful, but it brings with it a unique set of circumstances—”
Izzy tuned him out as she slipped into the room and stood in the back beside a stand with a large tray to hold dirty dishes. Waiters and waitresses were weaving in and out of the tables, clearing plates and refilling coffee cups. She craned her neck, straining to see everything going on in the large ballroom, hoping to spy something unusual. Nothing. Everything seemed absolutely normal and boring. Was she wrong? Maybe the letters AMCI and the word March were simply a coincidence, brought on by her obsession with this stupid case she’d never asked to be involved in. What have I done? Are Mac and Finn going to show up, guns blazing with all sorts of officers for nothing? Oh my God, what have I done? She reached for her phone, intent on calling them back and telling them she’d been wrong. Maybe they haven’t left yet. As she was about to punch the speed dial for Mac, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head up and stared. What did I see? Something that doesn’t fit. She walked toward the east side of the ballroom, her phone forgotten for the moment. There! The velvet drapes at the far side of the room, probably blocking unsightly kitchens from view, were disturbed. Something—or someone—was behind them, moving steadily toward the stage. Izzy’s heart pounded nearly out of her chest as she headed in that direction. Am I really going to do this? Am I really going behind that curtain? I don’t do things like this! What about Janey? If something happens to me, what will happen to her? But even as she had the thought, she was already slipping behind the curtain. There’s no one else. I have to do something! I couldn’t live with the guilt if I stood by and let it happen.
The audience broke into loud clapping at that moment, startling her so she dropped her phone. Hoping the unseen figure ahead of her hadn’t heard, she left her phone on the floor and sped toward the stage where the mayor continued to speak. She had no idea what she would do when she caught up; she was making this up as she went. She fought her way through the heavy velvet drapes for another twenty feet, then sensed the person in front of her had stopped. Izzy slowed, flattening herself against the wall, glad she’d ditched her shoes. As she slid around a corner, she saw someone kneeling a few feet in front of her. Izzy slipped back quickly and peeked around the corner. A man, dressed as a waiter, knelt in front of a black duffle bag, rifling through its contents. Okay, it could be totally innocent. He could be changing his shirt. Maybe he spilled something—nope. That’s definitely a gun. The man pulled a lethal-looking black handgun from the bag, followed by an ammunition clip, which he snapped into the butt of the gun, then screwed what she thought must be a silencer on the barrel.
Izzy’s heart pounded even harder; she could hear it in her ears, drowning out the sounds from beyond the curtain. She prayed for the disruption of police and/or Homeland Security bursting into the room, but as the man raised the gun to eye level, there was no such reprieve. Oh God! It’s now or never. You can either do something to stop this or you can stand here like a damned statue! She took a deep breath and charged, tackling the man from behind.
He was a lot bigger and st
ronger than she’d expected. She didn’t knock him to the ground like she’d hoped; in fact, she mostly rolled right over the top of him. Her shoulder hit the floor hard and she cried out in pain. But she’d distracted him, causing him to lose his balance. She heard him curse as she regained her feet and charged him again. This time she hit him full-on and took him down. Her shoulder screamed in pain—or was the scream ripped from her throat? She had no time to think about it before she found herself on her back, the heavy body pinning her to the ground. By now they’d rolled out from under the curtains into the room. People at the tables nearby screamed and shoved to their feet, causing chairs to fly in all directions.
“Gun! There’s a gun!”
This pronouncement caused a general panic in the ballroom as luncheon attendees pushed and shoved to escape. The man pinning her to the floor cursed and tried to pull away. Izzy knew she couldn’t let him escape while he still had the gun. She grabbed it, attempting to wrestle it from him. She was ridiculously out-matched, but she hung on, panting with the effort. He reared back and punched her on the side of her head. She saw stars and felt her grip on the gun loosen.
“No!” she screamed and lunged toward him again. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase, fumbling with his.
The explosion as the gun went off deafened her; then came the pain.
***
Mac
The helicopter ride was endless. He spent the time trying repeatedly to call or text Izzy, but she simply didn’t answer. It scared him to death to not know what was happening. He took her voice mail seriously, realizing the information Gina had passed on earlier that morning had been nothing but a clever diversion. He finally got through to Finn as the helicopter approached Albuquerque.
“Have you talked to Izzy?” He didn’t bother with a greeting.
“I got a voice mail. I’m guessing you did too. She’s not answering her phone.” Finn’s voice was clipped and official; it was clear he was on speaker phone in his car. “I’ve got units and a S.W.A.T. team on the way to the Hyatt. My E.T.A. is three minutes.”
“Homeland should be there around the same time. We’re still about ten minutes out.” Mac paused as he heard Finn’s police radio.
Finn cursed. “We’ve got 911 calls coming in from the Hyatt saying there’ve been shots fired in the ballroom.”
Mac’s stomach dropped. Izzy. Please, God. Please keep her safe. He’d never been much for prayer, even when he was shot in Iraq, but he prayed constantly for the remainder of the trip, until they landed on the helipad on the roof of the hotel. He leapt from the helicopter, not waiting for Darius, and ran for the roof access door.
“Mac! Wait for me, man! Do not run in there without your partner!”
Shit. He’s right. “Then hurry up! Izzy is down there!” I can’t lose her, I can’t lose her. The words ran through his head like a mantra.
Darius didn’t respond, but he ran faster. Mac wrenched the door open while his partner pulled his phone out and checked in with the Homeland presence below stairs. He talked briefly, then shoved his phone in his pocket. “Okay. The situation is contained. We can take the elevator.”
“Izzy?”
Darius shook his head. “No info. Sorry.”
They were silent as they rode the elevator to the second floor. When the doors opened, their captain lowered the radio he’d been speaking into. “S.W.A.T. has it under control. We’ve got a shooter injured, possibly deceased, and another female victim.” The large area outside the ballroom was crowded with law enforcement officers and civilians, many with shocked, vacant expressions.
He knew. In the depths of his soul he knew it was Izzy. “Can I go in?”
The captain nodded.
He stalked into the ballroom, his head buzzing. He vaguely heard Darius speaking behind him, but he had no idea what he was saying. He looked around furiously for any sign of Izzy, craning his neck left and right. Paramedics were working on someone near the stage; with a hollow feeling in his gut he threaded his way through the crowd to get a closer look. At first all he could see was the blood, but a closer look showed it was a man. The paramedics were using paddles on him, but Mac could see it was a lost cause; the man was almost certainly dead. He turned away, ramming his hands through his hair in frustration. Where the hell is she? He was about to resort to shouting her name at the top of his lungs when Darius grabbed his arm and pointed across the room.
“That’s Finn. I’m sure Izzy is with him.”
Mac sped toward him. Finn was crouched in front of someone; as Mac got closer he saw it was Izzy. A paramedic was attending her, asking questions and touching her shoulder, but all Mac could see was the blood covering her torso. She glanced up at that moment and saw him.
“Mac! Oh, God, Mac!” She stood and lunged toward him, stopping at the last moment as she saw his face. “It’s not my blood. You shouldn’t hug me though because you’ll—”
He didn’t wait to hear the rest. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. They stood, holding each other for several long minutes, then he pulled away and ran his hands up and down her arms. “Where are you hurt? What happened?”
She shook her head. “I’m not.” At a cough from Finn she shrugged. “My ear. I can’t hear very well out of my right ear because the gun went off right next to it. And my shoulder hurts a little.”
Mac’s knees buckled as it all began to sink in. Darius stepped up to catch him, supporting him while Finn grabbed a chair and pushed him into it. Someone shoved his head between his knees and told him to breathe. He waited until the haze in front of his eyes cleared, then sat up and looked at his fiancée. “What the hell happened?”
“I saw the program.” She knelt in front of him and covered his cold hands with hers. He needed her warmth and turned his palms up to clasp her fingers. “I didn’t see it until dessert and it was almost too late, but the logo made me think of the note I found in the file from Lyon. AMCI: March. I tried to call you and Finn but I couldn’t get through. When I came back into the ballroom, I saw someone behind those curtains.” She pointed to the velvet drapes on the east side of the ballroom.
“So you decided to chase after the unsub on your own?” Finn broke in. “Goddammit, Izzy! You could have been killed!”
“Hey!” Mac stood, a bit wobbly still, and put his arm around her before turning to glare at her brother. “Ease up.” He was thinking the same thing, of course, but she didn’t need anyone yelling at her.
But Izzy shrugged his arm away and advanced on Finn, her finger jabbing at his chest. “What the fuck was I supposed to do, Finn? Stand back and watch the mayor get shot? I couldn’t live with myself if he was killed right before my eyes while I stood and watched!”
“You were supposed to wait for law enforcement! I don’t care who’s about to get shot! I don’t want my sister playing superhero and trying to save the day!” He stared back at her, his face furious. Then he pulled her into his arms. “You scared the shit out of me. Don’t ever do that again.”
She didn’t answer; she had started to sob into her brother’s chest.
“Okay. Shh. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He shot an imploring look at Mac.
“Come here, love.” Mac pulled her back into his arms. He held her while she cried, running his hand over her hair and soothing her with soft, nonsense murmurs. He sat in the chair, pulling her onto his lap.
“We’re going to need to get your statement, Iz,” Finn said.
“Give us a few minutes, okay, Finn?” Mac knew she was in no shape to talk right now; she’d obviously held it together as long as possible, and needed the release of a good cry. Finn nodded and turned to speak to the various police officers who were waiting to take her statement.
Nearly ten minutes later, when her sobs had quieted and she had stopped shaking, she spoke quietly. “I was so scared, Mac.”
“Me too.” He kissed her hair. “I think I aged about ten years on the helicopter ride here.”
“Helicopter? Where we
re you?” She raised her head to look at him. Her face was ravaged, mascara running down her cheeks, eyes red, and nose running.
God, she’s beautiful. He turned to Darius. “Get me a paper towel or something, man.” He waited until his partner returned with a cloth napkin. He handed it to Izzy and watched while she mopped her face. “We were in Santa Fe. Gina told us there was an attack planned against the governor today. It was obviously a ploy to distract law enforcement and it worked beautifully. We went for it hook, line, and sinker.”
“I really, really hate that woman.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He saw Finn approaching again. “Do you think you could answer a few questions? The police aren’t going to leave you alone until you do.”
She nodded and reached up to smooth her hair. “Do I look okay?”
Really? Her eyes were red and swollen, her hair looked like she’d slept on it, and her blouse was covered with blood. He brushed her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “Yeah, you look fine. Come on.” He stood with her and led her to the group of officers.
They asked her to go over her story from the beginning, which he’d heard, but he listened carefully as she told how she’d slipped behind the curtain and followed the man dressed as a waiter through the curtained corridor toward the stage. She’d dropped her phone halfway through, which explained why no one could get in touch with her. He cringed when she explained how she had leapt on the man as he aimed a weapon at the stage. They’d wrestled for the gun for several seconds until it went off next to her ear, but luckily pointed at the suspect’s chest. Mac needed to sit again as her realized just how close she’d come to dying.
“What about him? He was shot at really close range. Is he alive?” She craned her neck to look around the room.