Cold Pursuit

by Susan Sleeman

  Alex gladly changed his focus to Sam as he and Whitney were approaching that personal territory that they’d just gotten away from. “He approve opening the case?”

  Sam nodded. “Said do whatever I need to do to get this guy’s ID.”

  She grabbed a nearby tool kit from her stack of equipment and knelt at the table. She bent over the phone, her concentration fixed, a half smile on her lips.

  “She loves her job,” Alex said.

  “It’s obvious that you all do.”

  “Yeah, I mean it’s unfortunate that our services are needed, but they are. So someone has to do it, and I’m honored that God chose me to be one of the team.”

  “Me, too,” Sam said.

  Whitney nodded, but Alex didn’t think she really understood how much this job meant to each of them… the impact and difference they knew they were making in helping people in need. For some reason, it was really important to him that she did.

  “It’s a calling for us. We take the responsibility of people in need as seriously as a pastor takes the spiritual welfare of his congregation.”

  She tilted her head. “I had no idea it was that personal for you all, but thank you for clarifying.”

  Good. She got it now. But he was uncomfortable about putting it all out there so he got up to watch over Sam.

  Sam glanced up from removing tiny screws on the end of the iPhone, a miniature-sized driver in her hand. “I’m hoping I won’t find a lot of moisture and it will dry quickly.”

  She grabbed what looked like a cloth log that was an inch thick and a foot long from her bag and heated it in the microwave then laid it on the end of the phone. “Melts the glue that holds the screen in place.”

  Alex grinned. “I probably should’ve asked if you’ve done this before I agreed with opening it, but it looks like you know what you’re doing.”

  She looked up at him, a hint of unease in her expression. “Actually, I’ve never done it on the job. We sent phones to the regional computer lab for things like this.”

  Alex didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Then how do you know how to do it?’

  “I replaced my phone’s battery a few months back. I’m too cheap to pay the crazy price service techs charge. I figured someday the special tools could come in handy on the job, so I added them to my work stuff. And voilà. They have.” She chuckled and grabbed a tool with a flat edge and slid it along the edge of the phone until she had the case open. She then shone a small flashlight on it. “Crud. Like I figured. It’s wet. We’ll just have to wait it out.”

  She looked over her shoulder at Whitney. “I’d like to leave this close to the vent. Or should I put it up out of the reach of little fingers?”

  “It’ll be fine overnight, but we definitely should move it before Zoey gets up in the morning.”

  Sam stood. “Actually, I’m hoping it will be dry by then, but you never know.”

  “You really think so?” Whitney got up, enthusiasm burning in her eyes. “I mean we might know who John Doe is by the morning?”

  Sam held up a hand. “Don’t get too excited. He’s likely put a passcode on the device, and we don’t know if he used the fingerprint reader or if the reader will even work with his finger.”

  Whitney’s smile fell. “Why not?”

  “Many of today’s fingerprint identification sensors on smartphones work through electrical conductance.”

  “Is that what is sounds like?” Alex asked. “Electrical flow?”

  “Basically, yes. Every person has a bit of electricity running through their body. The scanner senses our prints using light and these capacitors use electrical current. But when someone dies, the flow of electricity in the body ceases, and interacting with the scanner can be problematic. This is a newer model phone, and we may have a problem. Or it may work. I’ve seen anecdotal reports of it both working and failing to work.”

  “Maybe it’s all in the way you tilt your head and if you say some incantation before you do it.” Alex laughed.

  “How can you laugh?” Whitney shuddered. “I find this all so gross. I don’t know why I’m so squeamish about you using John’s finger, but I am. I see death all the time at the hospital, but something about him being murdered right next to me changes the dynamics I guess.”

  Alex turned to her, serious now. “A violent death is like no other, and it’s extremely unsettling.” He wished for about the hundredth time that Whitney hadn’t had to see this man murdered.

  The memories of it would ease over time. He knew that from his days as a marine, but he also knew it was going to stay with her for the rest of her life and pop up to bother her when she least expected it. He didn’t wish that on anyone at all, especially this sensitive woman who captivated him.

  Smoke pulled Alex from his sleep, and his chest convulsed as a coughing jag shook him violently. He shot up. Looked around. Swirling gray smoke filled the space. Not the pleasant fireplace aroma carrying pine. No. Acrid smoke slithered around the room like a living breathing thing, and his lungs burned.

  The resort was on fire. The suite maybe.

  Whitney and the kids. He had to get them to safety. And Sam.

  “Sam—fire!” He yelled in the direction of her room. “Wake up, there’s a fire.”

  He had to breathe deeply to be able to yell, his lungs feeling like the fire had already invaded them, burning with each breath. He must’ve already inhaled a lot of smoke in his sleep. What about the kids? Zoey was so small. She couldn’t handle as much as he could.

  Fear gripped his body.

  He started to run, then remembered his fire training. Get low. He dropped to the floor. His hand latched onto a small blanket that Zoey was using with her doll. Placing it over his mouth, he crawled to the bedroom door. He reached up to touch the knob.

  Not hot. No fire in their room.

  Thank you.

  He turned the knob.

  “Alex,” Sam screamed from across the room.

  “At the bedroom getting the kids and Whitney. Go. Get out of here.”

  “No. I’m coming to help.”

  Of course she was. She was one hundred percent a team player.

  He opened the door. Found it less smoky. Good.

  “Wake up,” he shouted and headed straight for the bed where he’d tucked Zoey in just a few hours ago.

  “Whitney! Isaiah! Wake up!” He heard Whitney stir.

  Yes!

  “Fire,” he shouted to break through her lethargy. “I’ve got Zoey and Isaiah. Drop to the floor and make your way to the exit.”

  “No alarm,” Whitney mumbled as she stirred. “The kids.”

  He hadn’t even thought of the smoke detectors not working. How had that happened? The renovation likely.

  Never mind. Not important now.

  “I’ve got Zoey.” He scooped her up, placed her blanket over her mouth, and nudged Isaiah awake. “Hey, bud. There’s a fire. Grab on to my belt loop, and we’re going to crawl out of here, okay?”

  The boy lay there unmoving. In shock, his eyes wide.

  “I got him.” Sam crawled up to the bed and grabbed his hand, pulling him swiftly down to the floor. “C’mon, buddy.”

  Alex hit the floor again, careful to cradle Zoey in his arm.

  “Move. Move. Mo—” His last word was stolen by a coughing fit.

  “Whitney, stay close to me,” he got out and started forward.

  He looked around as he crawled. There was no heat. No flames. Where was all of this smoke coming from? He touched the main doorknob. Cold.

  “We’re good to go.” He frantically recalled the layout ahead of them. “Head for the fire exit to the left of the room.”

  He opened the door. Burning, watery tears poured from his eyes, but he could see the exit light glowing in high velocity through very thin black smoke. Flame-pushed smoke. The fire was nearby.

  He had no time to worry if it was set to smoke Whitney out into the open. The smoke was too thick for anyone make her out and
target her right now, and he had to move.

  Quick. Hurry. Hurry. Get this family to safety.

  His lungs bursting with the raw rasping air, he made his way down the hall teeming with the same smoke but tried not to cough and scare the others more. Zoey’s chest rose and fell with her face protected by the blanket. Whitney, Sam, and Isaiah all struggled for breath behind him, Isaiah struggling more than the others.

  Alex wanted to grab the kid. Pull him into his arms and run. But Alex couldn’t help them if he didn’t make sure he stayed safe, too. He kept going, powered by a pure rush of adrenaline.

  He was moving quickly now in a one arm crawl, his precious package in his other arm. One knee in front of the other through the dense brown cloud so thick it obliterated everything in front of him.

  He hit another door. The stairwell. Felt for the knob. Still cool.

  He pushed it open. Found better air. Whiter smoke.

  Yes. Yes! A good sign they were moving away from the fire.

  He reached the stairs. Cradled Zoey tight against his body and drew his gun. The others crawled up close. Isaiah was coughing harder now, his little body convulsing with it. Whitney held him close, her spasms shorter and more controlled. Sam was toughing it out like Alex and not making a sound. Alex’s instinct was to send everyone down the stairs ahead of him so he could see them reach safety and pick up anyone who might fall behind, but he had to assess the danger first.

  He turned around. “It’s better out here. Going down now. Stay here until I say it’s okay.”

  “Be careful,” Whitney cried. “I don’t…I…just be careful.”

  Her anguish broke his heart. He gritted his teeth and started down with Zoey. He would save them all.

  He scooted down the steps, more like slid down on his hip. One flight. Another. The air was clearing with each step. Blessedly clearing enough to see a few feet ahead. He hit the exit door. Shoved it open and burst outside.

  The whirly snow and bone-chilling wind bit into his face, but he could breathe. He gulped in deep breaths and searched the swirling snow for any foe. Found nothing save the howling wind. No lights on within view. Not a single one. He turned back to the landing, looking for the flames in the building. Clear.

  He hovered in the doorway, keeping the door cracked and lifting the blanket to get fresh air for Zoey.

  “It’s safe to come down,” he yelled.

  “Roger that,” Sam responded.

  Zoey startled.

  “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair.

  She blinked a few times, snuggled into his chest, and went back to sleep.

  He stayed in the doorway, waiting for them to emerge from the smoke. Whitney came down with Isaiah first, and his heart sang. Then Sam, her expression tight and pinched.

  He hustled them to the door and opened it more so they could step out. They gulped in snow-laden air, hands on their knees as they gasped for more.

  Sam stood tall and strong, her weapon in her hand, breathing deeply but on high alert. They shared a look understood only by those who felt the heavy responsibility of protecting innocent life and nearly failing.

  Alex took several long breaths, his chest a mass of pain as he tried to form a game plan.

  Why had he moved them to this building? This situation could turn out to be deadlier than a direct attack on his original suite would have been.

  “Now what?” Sam asked, a fit of coughing catching her for a moment, and she doubled over. “We can’t survive this cold for long, but we need the fresh air.”

  Yeah, what? Think, man. Think. “The tent, maybe? It has a heater in it, and it’s not far.”

  “You can’t take the kids in there,” Whitney said as she cradled Isaiah’s head protectively against her body.

  “We might not have a choice.” Alex took a look around to evaluate and decide.

  A gunshot split the quiet. Pain razored into his upper arm, stunning him. A second shot rang out. Went wide.

  “No!” He whirled. Grabbed Whitney’s arm. “Back inside. Hurry!”

  16

  Fear nearly smothered the little breath Whitney could gain and gripped her heart like a vise as she grasped Isaiah’s shaking shoulders. The poor boy. She had to keep it together for him. She clutched him close as Alex forced them swiftly to the floor. He joined them, selecting a spot where they were protected but he could look out the door that he propped open with his shoe. She scooted Isaiah closer to the air, but safe from any direct bullets.

  Alex swiveled and held Zoey out to Whitney. The girl slept so deeply that nothing much could wake her. Apparently not even a fire or gunshot.

  “We’ll keep the door propped open just enough for air flow,” Alex said. “Stay nearby but low. Sam, I need you to stay with them while I find a way out of this.”

  “No!” The word shot so powerfully out of Whitney’s mouth it scared even her, and Isaiah jolted. She took a calming breath. “No. We need you here. You can’t go outside or you’ll be a sitting duck and the fire’s in the other direction.”

  “I can’t just stay here and wait to…” His words fell off but she knew he meant to finish with die.

  She reached out to touch his shoulder and found moisture. Sticky liquid. Blood, she knew from her days as a nurse. “The bullet. Did it—”

  He shook his head and directed a pointed look at the wide-eyed Isaiah. “Flesh wound. Nothing more.”

  His usual confidence was missing in his tone, and her fingers were covered in blood, but he was right. Isaiah was terrified already, and no point in scaring him more. But she did need to assess and treat the injury as soon as possible.

  He looked around the area. “Something’s odd about the fire.”

  “You mean no flames,” Sam said. “Just smoke.”

  “Maybe that’s all it is. They just wanted to smoke us out. And if that’s the case, smoke rises so the first floor might be fine.”

  “Good, yes,” Sam encouraged.

  “I’ll check it out and clear the route to the main building, then come back for you.”

  “No, please. No,” Whitney begged, as she couldn’t imagine seeing him disappear into that smoke again.

  “I’ll go,” Sam offered.

  Whitney should be as distraught thinking about Sam heading into danger, but the thought didn’t sting quite as much.

  “I’m lead on the protection detail, and it’s my responsibility,” Alex said firmly.

  “Sorry,” Whitney whispered when she wanted to say more, but her years in the ED taught her to follow a qualified leader in an emergency.

  He eyed Sam. “I’m counting on you to protect them.”

  “With my life,” was her measured response.

  As Alex started to rise, Whitney grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Be careful. Please.”

  “Yeah, please,” Isaiah said through shaking teeth.

  Alex squeezed her hand and released it, then touched Isaiah’s shoulder. “I’ll do my very best for all of you, bud. Now don’t worry. I’ve been in far tougher situations than this one, and I’ll be back for you. You have my promise.”

  Alex was such a fool. Promising the kid that he’d be back. He could no more promise that than he could tell the boy that getting over the loss of his mother was going to be easy.

  Shaking his head, Alex inched toward the interior door leading to the first-floor hallway. With the outside door open, the stairwell had cleared significantly of smoke, and he could breathe without coughing. The knob was cool. He jerked it open and shot a look into the hallway, searching for danger before jerking back.

  A slight haze of smoke filled the short hallway with six rooms but nothing like the second floor. Okay, so fine, the fire must’ve started up there. He raised his gun and entered the space. He didn’t think their shooter could’ve made it from his stand outside to one of the rooms, but he quickly made his way down the hall, checking each door to be sure it was locked. He reached the exit to the
lobby that was chained from the other side to keep guests out. He tugged on it and confirmed it was still securely locked.

  He turned to the stairwell and climbed to the second floor. Smoke grew in intensity with each step. He jerked open the fire door, covered his mouth with the back of his arm and plunged into the smoke that was even thicker on this end of the hall. Only a few steps in, he found the source of the fire. Smoldering flames and smoke curled from a large metal trash can. The lid to the can lay on the floor, and he clapped it on top, ending the billowing cloud.

  So the fire was deliberately set. Not to burn down the place or the arsonist wouldn’t have contained it in the can. Just to smoke up the hall and rooms and force Whitney out into the open while not killing anyone else. At least that was the only reason Alex could think of.

  She was in serious danger, and he’d left her behind.

  He turned and charged down the stairs. Bolted down the hallway, but when he reached the end he slowed. Calmed his nerves. Calmed his racing heart. Isaiah and Whitney were already terrified. He wouldn’t add to that.

  He turned the corner. Saw the little group huddled by the door.

  “You’re back. Thank goodness.” Whitney came to her feet and directed a radiant smile his way.

  Joy in seeing her safe rocked his world. He almost gasped but managed to keep his focus on the danger. “Fire was set in a metal trash can upstairs. No real fire danger, just smoke. The air in the hallway is much better so let’s secure this door and move in there.”

  He signaled for Sam to go first, and then pulled the door closed, trying it several times to make sure it latched.

  Isaiah got up, his gaze so wary, Alex rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re handling this really well. I’m proud of you.”

  A tight smile quirked up the boy’s thin lips, and he started off behind Sam. Whitney and Zoey next. Alex thought to take Zoey, but he had to keep his hands free. He got out his cell and was thankful to see two bars. He dialed Tomio and prayed the man answered, because the only way out of that hallway was if Tomio unlocked the other exit door. Until that happened, as Whitney said a few minutes ago, they would all be sitting ducks.