Her feet refused to cooperate as he dragged her to the front of the home, heels raking across the coarse fibers of the carpet. He stopped them to one side of the door, an arm sweeping out to pull the curtains back from a window. Jonas opened the drapes on what looked like a sea of police cruisers, red and blue and white moving and shifting, the cloud of bright lights strobing off every reflective surface. Disorientating, the lights drew bright streamers through her vision and she saw things in sharp relief one moment, then blurred edges the next.
Connie coughed and saw tiny red dots appear in the air, catching beams of light as the droplets arced and fell away. It hurts. Jonas’ breathing was fast and heavy in her ear, panting to match her.
She fought to pull in a breath, drawing in a stingy gasp with short bursts of effort, shocked at how hard it was. Her chest felt like her lungs were only half as large as normal and stuttering sips of air were the best she could do. In a whisper so weak it barely reached her own ears, she tried to plead for her life. “Please, Jonas.”
“Jonas, is that Miss Rowe? Can you tell me if she’s okay?”
There was movement at her side and she watched as the reflection of Jonas in the window shook his head in a slow arc.
She watched him, focusing there instead of on the confusing chaos of lights and bodies beyond that flimsy barrier. The haunting vision of his head floating over her shoulder was captivating, as if he were an illusion peeking out from behind her. His eyes were wide, nighttime shadows keeping the color from view, only the barest glint of light showing her he was looking. His focus seemed to be outside, away from the show she was watching. Connie stared as three tiny red dots danced across his hair, settling into place on his forehead, just above his bunched eyebrows.
She closed her eyes.
***
Cole
Cole was wiping down the kitchen table in the station when the report came out over the radio. It wasn’t for their firehouse, so he didn’t pay much attention at first. Not until the dispatcher repeated the location a second time to ensure the truck’s receipt of the destination did his head pop up, every sense focused on what he’d heard. An address he’d never been to but memorized months ago, a place where his niece Addy stayed every other weekend.
Jonas Thompson’s home address.
And now there was an emergency there. Squads called first, then ambulances, all from precincts closer to the address, then a single truck, more a just-in-case measure than something the dispatcher actually thought they’d need.
Cole drifted towards the radio, cutting his gaze around the room. Every man there knew the situation with Audrey. Knew what the Stewarts’ had been through. “That’s the asshole’s address,” he told the captain, tipping his head towards the radio. “I gotta go.” He headed for the pole and called over his shoulder. “Dougal will be here. I’ll call him. You won’t be shorthanded.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cole. Go see what’s happening.” He heard the mic keyed behind him, the captain’s voice asking for more details on the dispatch. “I’ll call you and let you know what I find out.”
Cole didn’t answer, just dropped and then headed for his truck and peeled out, tires spinning and then catching hold. He was most of the way to Thompson’s place when the captain called, his words not making sense. “He’s got a hostage. They said he had her call his PO and whoever they were talking to figured out something was off. Units are just pulling up outside the structure now.”
All Cole heard was “her” and his heart raced. “Who is it, do you know?”
“It’s not Audrey,” the captain reassured him, “that’s all I know for sure.”
Cole disconnected and then called Audrey. “Where’s Addy?”
She took an audible breath and then asked, “What’s wrong, Cole?”
“Where’s Addy?” He slid to a stop behind a cop car, jamming the gear shift into Park. He removed the keys, palming them as he opened the door. “Is she with you?”
“Yes, she’s right here. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t know, Audrey. Stay home, lock your doors. Keep Addy with you. I’ll call as soon as I know something.” Cole ended the call and jumped out of the truck, kicking the door closed. “Hey,” he called towards the rookie manning the edge of the contained area. They were just starting to string tape and he ducked under the yellow plastic wafting through the air. “Who’s in charge? They down there?” Pointing to where the mass of blue uniforms had gathered in the street outside a nondescript brick house, he asked, “Is that the Fifth?” If it was that precinct, he knew most of the cops well, having worked extra shifts out of a house in that area for more than a year.
The rookie nodded, not asking Cole for credentials, taking his shirt emblazoned with the city fire department logo as enough identification.
Cole took off up the street at a brisk trot, lifting a hand as he recognized faces here or there. He pulled to a halt behind a man holding a portable loudspeaker. Thankfully Cole knew him. He and the cop had worked together off and on for years. “Donnelly.” The man turned around. He had an expression of concentrated focus on his face, with tense lines carved deep on either side of his mouth. Cole didn’t waste time, needing him to understand why Cole was here. “That’s Jonas Thompson’s house.” He didn’t need to say anything else, Donnelly nodded. “Who’s he got in there?”
Donnelly’s mouth moved, but Cole wouldn’t remember hearing the answer, couldn’t pull it out of his memories even later. He just knew he’d asked the question, and then he was slammed up against a cruiser, metal of the door gouging his back as Donnelly held him in place. Cole cursed as he fought to get free, not knowing exactly where he was going, just knowing he had to get inside there right now because Connie needed him. Thompson was holding Connie hostage.
“Stewart, stop now, man. Don’t make me deal with you on top of this. Let me do my job. Let me save her.” Donnelly shouted in his face and the fight went out of Cole.
“He’s got Connie. My Connie.” Donnelly froze, the expression on his face telling Cole he understood. Cole pulled in a hard breath with a winded groan, it rasped painfully against the inside of his throat as he forced it back out hard. “Get her out of there.”
“I’m trying, Stewart. You good?” Cole nodded and the rigid grip on his throat eased. “You—” Donnelly pointed at a uniform standing nearby. “—keep him here.” The burly cop moved closer as Donnelly turned back to Cole, asking, “Who is she? Who is she to you?”
“She’s my girlfriend.” He deliberately labeled their relationship what he’d been dreaming of, but didn’t stop there, didn’t dare mince words, knowing this man needed all pertinent details to make the best possible decision. “But before that, she was his girlfriend. Thompson stalked her some after she broke it off with him. She wasn’t afraid of him, and it seemed like he’d dropped it with her. I don’t understand why he’d go after Connie now. It’s been weeks. I mean, I know Audrey filed for sole custody a couple of days ago. That might be his trigger, man. But why Connie?”
“May be what tipped him over. PO said he’d blown off check-ins. Thompson knew he was likely to go back inside. That could be it, too. Rowe? Your Connie? No idea why her, the report is muddled so far. They’re going to feed me what they can, but I’m going in blind here. Your info is good, Stewart. You’re helping her. Anything else I should know?”
“Connie was listed as his court-appointed monitor for his custody visits with my niece. I didn’t find that out until Audrey filed. I don’t think even Connie knows. Audrey’s lawyer dug up the paper. He doesn’t think it’s Connie’s signature, so he took that to the Tenth for processing. They might have paid him a visit, too, or he might be trying to use Connie to hold off the PO?” Cole shook his head. “There are too many unknowns. I just know you gotta get her out. You gotta get her out of there for me.”
“I will.” Donnelly nodded and turned, scooping the loudspeaker from the street where he’d dropped it in his efforts to
contain Cole. There was a click as he turned it on, then a mechanical squeal. He let the noise fade away and started the typical initial encounter icebreaker. “Jonas Thompson.”
Cole turned to face the house, chest to the edge of the car’s doorframe. With the uniform behind him, there was nowhere for him to go, and he hated how it felt, having to sit it out like this when every piece of him was crying out to storm in there and pull Connie to safety.
“Jonas Thompson, we need to talk to you.”
There was movement in the house, seen in jerky waves behind the gauzy curtains that covered the main windows. Cole strained to see through the fabric, frustrated when the most he could make out was a shadowy outline he wasn’t even certain was human. Where is she? More blaring words from the loudspeaker, with no response. Donnelly stepped it up, asking specific questions and he named Connie, the open confirmation she was in the house a blow that hit Cole like a punch to the solar plexus, stealing his breath.
Finally, the curtains stirred as dark fingers parted them. A panel pulled back to reveal a face he still saw in his nightmares, one he’d come to know too well over past years. Thompson.
A paler circle marked where Connie stared out from behind the windowpane. Nearly the same height, Thompson had her positioned in front of him, back to his front, holding her as a human shield. Her shirt was awkwardly pinned to her body, dark stains discoloring it. She looked confused and seemed unsteady on her feet, as if Thompson’s imprisoning grip were the only thing keeping her upright. Cole’s heart thundered in his chest as he realized Connie was wounded. His fingers curled into a fist and he pounded the top of the cop car, ignoring the heavy hand that landed on his shoulder. No, please no.
“Jonas, is that Miss Rowe? Can you tell me if she’s okay?” Away from the microphone, Donnelly called an order, and Cole heard the car’s radio crackle with acknowledgments. He watched as sniper laser targets entered his view from the top of the window, working their way down to find Thompson. “At will,” Donnelly’s voice came through the radio. “Shooters have the go.”
“I’ve got him. Green on one.”
“Clear mark. Two’s a go.”
“Three is on target.”
The responses were immediate, sharing a confidence that should have been reassuring.
Cole only had eyes for Connie, and he attentively watched as she said something to Thompson. He shook his head and jerked her tighter. She shifted to the side slightly, and Cole prayed it would be enough for the marksmen waiting in their high hides. He held his breath, waiting. Each second that passed seemed twice as long as the one before, and he found himself counting the heartbeats he could hear pounding in his ears. God, keep her safe.
Glass shattered, bursting into a corona of splintered reflections. The snap of the rifle reports overlapped, sounding more like a single long ripple of sound than three individual shots as Thompson and Connie disappeared.
Chapter Ten
Connie
Jonas jerked against her and fell backwards as the window in front of them exploded inwards. His arms tightened spasmodically around her and then released, enough to pull Connie with him as he went down. The pain in her side peaked and then kept going, rising in a wave that threatened to swamp her senses. Vaguely she heard shouts from outside, including one she knew couldn’t be real.
There was a booming sound, and then wood splintered, light flooding the room. Connie blinked, dazzled by the brightness.
“Miss Rowe, can you hear me?”
She heard her name called by several voices, but her attention was fixed on the one calling from outside.
“Connie.”
“Cole.” She blinked at the blurriness invading her vision. “Please.”
“Miss Rowe, be still now, let us help you.” Hands grasped her shoulders and hips, lifting her. The heat that had been at her back was replaced by the chill of a hard surface and she hissed at the sudden change. “We’ve got you. It’s Connie, right?” She tried to nod. “Can I call you Connie?” She struggled to respond, blinking at the man’s face hovering over her. He was close, too close for comfort, and she tried to pull back, surprised when her head didn’t move. She fought to look to the side but something held her in place.
“Oh, God.” Tears welled, and she felt the liquid slide as they spilled over, trickling down her temples.
The room shifted around her and she cried out, afraid of falling. “Easy, Connie, we’re moving you outside. Just let us do the work, okay? You’re fine, Connie. You’re safe now.”
“Cole.”
“He’s right outside, you’ll see him in a minute. Can you tell me what hurts?”
“Cole?”
“Give us another minute, we’ll have you where he can come to you. We’ve got to get clear of the scene, Connie. Tell me what hurts, okay?”
“My side.”
“Yeah, I bet that does sting. Do you know what happened?”
“Jonas. I…he did…” Her chest hitched painfully and she cried out. “Cole.”
“Connie.” She could only move her eyes, but at Cole’s voice, she cut them to the side in time to see him come into view above her head. He was upside down, but still a welcome sight and she cried harder at the sense of relief she felt because he was there. “I’m here, honey. I’m here.”
“My side.” She tried to point to where the knife’s handle had been, not sure if it was still there. “He hurt me.”
“I know, sweetheart, but these guys are going to make sure you’re okay.” Cole’s voice was soft and sure, and Connie let the certainty buoy her. “They just have to check you out, see what needs to be done. You don’t have to worry now, honey.”
“Jonas. Cole, he had women’s clothing in there. I think he’s done someth…” Connie stopped to try and pull in a suddenly-absent breath. She felt her mouth open and close, but nothing helped. There was no room in her chest for air, and she stared at Cole, noting for the first time the beads of sweat along his brow.
“Easy, Connie. Easy, baby. You don’t have to worry about Jonas now, not ever again. Easy.” Voices in the background shouted, the edges of sound blurring together until she couldn’t make out anything. Cole’s voice was the only thing that mattered, and for several moments, Connie felt his words were the only thing tethering her to the earth. “I’m here, Connie. You’re safe now, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”
A sharp agony found its way alongside the pain already suffusing her side, and she gasped in response, surprised to find herself again sucking in air as an invisible damn broke in her chest. Desperate and greedy for oxygen, her lungs filled again and again until her throat burned from dryness. “Cole.” Her voice rasped painfully. “Oh, God, Cole.”
“I’m here. You’re safe.”
A hand curled around hers, fingers calloused and strong, holding tightly as she squeezed with all her strength. “I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to, Connie.” He leaned closer, and she stared up into his eyes. “You and me? We’ve got a lot of living left to do.” She blinked tears from her eyes and focused on him. Cole was smiling, and suddenly she believed it would be okay. He wouldn’t look like that if she weren’t going to be okay. “I need you in my life. Connie, honey, you’re important to me. I promised myself I’d tell you the first chance I got. You’re not going anywhere.” His eyes darted left and right, and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled more broadly. “Not an ideal setting for a declaration of undying love, but I’ll give one if you need it, baby. I don’t care where we are. I just need you to know I’m not letting you go. Not for anything, or anyone. From here on out, it’s you and me.”
“You and me?” The pain receded, sounds bleeding to white noise as she stared into his eyes.
He bent over until his nose brushed hers in a soft Eskimo kiss. “Yes. Wherever you go, that’s where I want to be.” Another soft brush of his nose, then he placed his cheek against hers. “I’ve got you.”
“Thank you.” She whispered the
word, an unending wave of exhaustion taking her by surprise. “Glad I’m not alone.” She blinked, and it was hard to force her eyes to reopen. “Cole.”
“Yeah, baby?”
Her eyes closed and she gave herself to a floating feeling that was invading, taking over her body, and Connie relaxed into whatever was holding her in place, unsure if she actually said the words. “I need you, too.”
***
When she woke again, it was to soft light and cream-colored walls, electronic boxes on poles beeping quietly. There was a familiar hand holding hers, and when she tightened her fingers, she got an answering squeeze.
“Hello?” Her voice sounded creaky, like it hadn’t been used in days, and she tried to clear her throat, wincing when the soreness hit.
“Sweet baby girl.” Her father stood and leaned over the bed, staring down as he reached for her face, smoothing her hair back. “You’re with us again. And about time. I think your fella was getting jealous of the Sandman having so much of your time.” He smiled at her, and the lights in the room fractured as her eyes filled with tears. She saw an answering glint in his eyes as he blinked fast. “Welcome back, Constance.”
“Dad.” He caressed the side of her face with his thumb, leaving a chill behind as he smoothed her tears away. “Where am I?”
“Hos-pi-tal,” he enunciated carefully, drawing the word out with a smile. He thumbed over his shoulder with a chuckle. “Just in case the décor didn’t give it away.” Connie rolled her head on the pillow, looking towards where her mother sat on a lounge chair pushed underneath the window.
“How you feelin’, Connie girl?”
“Mom.” Connie’s lips trembled, and she watched as her mother shook her head, standing.
“None of that,” she scolded, and came close, reaching over the railing to gather up Connie’s other hand. “Tony, why are you making our girl cry?”
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