Page 87 of Anchor Point

And suddenly I knew where that shithead had taken her.

I sprinted through the church courtyard as fast as I could, jumping over planters that lined the walks to the building, trampling the neatly groomed grass. I turned the corner of the building and found the empty lot.

The old woman had been right. The entire lot was overgrown with vines. In stark contrast to the neatly groomed church grounds stood two neglected buildings, one on either end of the lot, their dilapidated wood frames listing to the side. A dim orange streetlamp barely lit the area.

Hiding in the shadows, I forced myself to be still. Forced my breathing to slow. Tried with every ounce of control I had to keep my movements minute because every slight noise seemed magnified.

In the stillness, two things registered. One, I needed backup. Two, I was going to kill this son of a bitch if he hurt my Rosie.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, careful to keep the face to me while I lowered the screen brightness. Then I dialed 911. They could get PD here the fastest.

I was two blocks away from at least half the shift.

The operator answered, sounding harassed. They’d surely had almost as dramatic a night as we’d had.

“This is Chief Hawkins,” I whispered.

“Ma’am, can you please speak up? I can barely hear you.”

“No, I can’t. A man has abducted my daughter, and I have reason to believe that he’s holding her hostage in one of the abandoned buildings behind the old First Baptist Church.”

“Do you have a visual on your daughter.”

“No.”

A huge sigh crossed the line. “Ma’am. What makes you think your daughter has been abducted.”

“Because I can’t find her. She’s not where she’s supposed to be. I think I saw her with a man.”

“How old is she?”

“Fourteen.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. Is it possible she’s just run away?”

I combusted. “You listen to me. My daughter did not run away. Stop wasting my time. You need to get on the radio and send one of those fifty personnel you have lining the sidewalks. You tell them Fire Chief Olivia Hawkins has a missing child. I need some backup, and I need it now.”

I reiterated the location and hung up.

Probably, I was on my own with this. And definitely, flaunting my position would likely get me a reprimand. And that operator was just doing her job, but my daughter’s life was in danger.

I slipped my phone in my pocket.

The smart thing to do was wait. But it was excruciating.

Still, I remained in my hiding spot for a heartbeat, praying that she’d be okay. That I would hear something that would give them away.

Two blocks away was chaos. The distant drone of the engines and the shouts of fire crews working were like another world away. Like a movie scene playing in another room. Distant, but there.

Here, it was deadly silent.

I focused on breathing deeply, though every sound, even my breath, seemed magnified in the stillness of the area.

Across the bleak lot, just beyond the misshapen chain-link fence, from the direction of the least sturdy of the two buildings, came a high shriek that abruptly cut off.

But I’d heard that shriek a million times over her lifetime. Hold on, baby. Momma’s coming.

The door to the shed burst open, and a mass of blond curls tumbled out, followed by long lanky limbs I’d recognize anywhere. Her jacket gone.

---