Page 24 of Vanishing Legacy

She swung her legs back and forth like a pendulum, building momentum until she had the force to extend her reach to the hole. Her free hand found the edge and clamped down. She held tight.

A sigh slipped out. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the rough wicker. Now what? She opened her eyes and watched the ground below shrink. Her sweaty grip was the only thing keeping her from falling. Probably to her death. She gritted her teeth, determined not to let go.

Alana’s hand slipped. She couldn’t hang on much longer.

* * *

Cash worked hard to keep his tone calm and sympathetic. “C’mon, Trejo. This won’t bring Emilio back. Put the gun down and we’ll talk about what happened.” His eyes darted between the gun and Trejo, searching for options. There weren’t any. A firearm in the hands of a drunk was always a bad thing, but in this crowd, it would be catastrophic.

Trejo shook his head. “What’s left to talk about? You let my brother die, and now it’s your turn. A life for a life!” His finger curled around the trigger.

Cash took a quick look behind Trejo. Three men fanned out, each with a weapon trained on Trejo’s back. The question was, could they shoot Trejo before he shot Cash? Cash didn’t think so. He was standing less than six feet away, staring into the black eye of the muzzle.

The music had stopped. Emergency lights flashed somewhere beyond his peripheral vision. He’d been stalling Trejo so far, but the only way out of this was to convince him to lower the gun. “Emilio was a great kid, wasn’t he?”

Trejo nodded. “The best.”

“How old was he?”

“Too young.” His voice cracked. “Nineteen.”

“That’s right. Way too young. I want to hear more, but your finger on that trigger is making me nervous. Can you…” Cash patted the air, indicating lowering the gun.

Trejo glared at Cash a beat. The gun went down.

He forced himself not to exhale. This wasn’t over yet. The officers had their guns pointing straight at Trejo. Cash caught a flash of the bright yellow grip in one officer’s hand. Taser gun.

The words clicked into place as two hooked probes shot out at a speed of over 160 feet per second. The tiny barbs latched onto Trejo’s back and neck. Fifty thousand volts screamed through his body. Trejo went limp. The officers swarmed. Wrenched his hands around and clamped handcuffs on his wrists.

“Dr. Cash! Dr. Cash!” Rocco stood beside a female officer, waving his hands.

He ran to Rocco and scooped him up. He pressed his palms into the boy’s back. “Rocco,” he breathed. The last few minutes came crashing down around him. He hadn’t had his head blown off. Trejo hadn’t been killed. Rocco was safe.

Cash’s cool started to slip. He put Rocco down and squatted to eye level. “Where’s Penny? Where’s your mom?”

Rocco turned and pointed.

Cash craned his neck upward. It took his eyes a second to focus on the object. A glowing hot air balloon suspended in the night sky with Alana hanging from the basket.

SIX

If she survived this, someone should tell Alana she was stupid. She had no idea what she was doing. Never even been rock climbing. But somehow, she’d managed to get the toe of her shoes into the steps and shift her weight to her legs.

The air was so cold her teeth began to chatter. She could hear Penny crying and the kidnapper mumbling words she couldn’t make out. She was out of options. If she stayed here…well, she couldn’t even think about that. Penny needed her.

Heart pounding, she pulled herself up and peered over the lip of the basket. The kidnapper was young, with wild eyes that darted around. He had tattoos on every part of skin showing. Splotches of red sores around his mouth told a story of long-time drug abuse. His grip on Penny was tight, holding her in front of him like a human shield.

Then she saw what he held in his hand. The silver weapon wasn’t a gun. It wasn’t a knife. It was an uncapped syringe.

Now or never. She swung her leg up and over the edge and threw herself into the gondola. She fell on her hands and knees, pausing to let the swinging motion of the basket settle before scrambling to her feet.

Startled, he fumbled with the syringe and put his thumb over the plunger. “Stay back,” he hissed.

“Wait, wait, wait. I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk. Can you tell me your name?”

He glanced over his shoulder. They were still rising, but slower.

“Let’s start with something easy. Just your first name.”

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