Page 141 of Before She Disappeared

I’m too late.

“Please,” Angelique hisses again. She kneels at her brother’s side, shaking him hard. She is trembling, gaze darting around the classroom. I note several computers and what appears to be a pretty impressive printer. The heart of the operations, I think. But I don’t have to time to consider the matter.

Angelique is clearly on high alert. Because of the commotion I’ve made, or because she knows she and her brother still aren’t safe?

I want to say her name. I want to march in the room and declare, “My name is Frankie Elkin and I hereby rescue you.”

Except I’m terribly aware that a key individual is missing. Frédéric Lagudu, the center’s executive director and the voice I heard on the radio. So where the hell is he?

Angelique darts behind her brother, plucking at the knots on his wrists. And several things happen at once.

She looks up, spots me.

I hold a finger to my lips, gesturing for her to be silent as I heft up my bat.

She shakes her head frantically.

And I’m tackled from behind, the baseball bat flying from my grasp.

“You stupid bitch!”

I barely get my arms out in time to break my fall, then Frédéric is upon me, pressing down against my back, pinning me into place. His hand tangles into my hair, jerking my head back.

I buck helplessly, but I can’t get him off. He’s too heavy, and with my arms trapped beneath me, I can’t reach the gun at my waist, nor the bat rolling across the floor. He slams my face against the floor.

I hear a crack, my nose bursting into a bloody mess, my forehead ringing in stunning pain. Then he yanks up my head again, preparing for the second blow as my eyes water and my mouth fills with blood. He’s going to kill me. I am dying.

Not a bullet after all. How interesting.

“No, no, no!”

I hear Angelique’s voice. Then sense her running approach. Save yourself, I want to yell at her, but I can’t manage the words.

She barrels into my attacker, the weight lifting from my back as Frédéric topples to the side.

I roll away, staggering to my feet, trying desperately to get my bearings. The bat—where is it? Or the gun? It must’ve fallen from my waist because now I can’t find it.

“I hate you!” Angelique is scrabbling with Frédéric. He’s bigger, stronger. But she’s incensed, smacking at his head and face. An older sister, desperate to save her brother. A girlfriend, mourning her partner’s murder.

It’s not enough. With a twist of his arm, Frédéric throws her off.

“Goddammit.”

“Angelique!” I cry.

She barely gets her hands up before Frédéric socks her in the face, followed by a quick jab to her kidneys. She doubles over in pain, while I continue frantically searching the floor. Bat. Gun. Bat. Gun. My head is ringing, my vision blurred.

A fresh sound. Emmanuel, now awake. Emmanuel, still bound hand and foot, desperately trying to inchworm his way to his sister’s side.

“Angelique!” he screams.

Frédéric wallops her again and again.

“No,” I say helplessly, still staggering about.

Frédéric materializes before me. And now he’s the one with the gun. Sighting me, then Angelique’s weeping form, then Emmanuel’s bound figure.

It’s over. I can see it on his face. Simply a matter of whom to shoot first.

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