Page 70 of Good and Gone

Tyler

Itiptoe down the stairs, gun in hand, cocked and ready. Hailey is staring at her phone; she has a 9-1-1 dispatcher on speakerphone, but she's watching the camera. She looks up at me. "I don't see anything."

"How long till they get here?" I ask, moving into the kitchen. I peer out the window, trying to get a glimpse of the yard. The hairs on my arms are standing on end. I can feel them tingle under my skin. I've learned to trust my instincts.

"Three minutes," the dispatcher says.

“Three minutes,” Hailey repeats. She gives me a look, and I know what she's thinking. A lot can happen in three minutes.

I go to the dining room so I can get a better view of the door. I'm not expecting what I see: a little girl with her knees to her chest, curled in a ball, her back against the door. "It's Reese."

Hailey looks at me, and I know before she even moves what she's about to do. She's going to open that door.

I step in front of her. "It could be a trap."

"Reese, it's okay, sweetheart. It's okay, honey," Hailey calls through the door. She puts her hands on the doorknob, but I grab her wrist and pull her away. "It's the middle of the night, Tyler. She's just a scared little girl."

I take the phone out of her hand and end the call. Hailey looks at me like I've lost my mind. "I don't want to have to shoot anyone else," I say. "And if you open that door, there's a good chance I might."

"I don't think Kenneth would use his child, Ty."

"Let's wait for the police," I say. I do not feel the same urge to kick down doors or to play the hero at my own home, with my family in the house, as I did on Laverty Lane. There's no need to take unnecessary risk, nor do I want to have to justify any action I might take. "She's not in any danger. We can watch her from here."

"She's just a little girl, Tyler." Hailey says, pleading with me. “I’m not leaving her out there.”

"Reese?" she calls.

The little girl looks up, her face streaked with tears. "Help," she cries. She crawls toward the door. "Daddy's hurt."

"Where is your dad?" I ask.

Reese doesn't answer.

"Reese, honey?" Hailey says through the glass. "Where is your dad?"

Her eyes widen, like she's remembering something she doesn't want to. "He's in the bed. But he's bleeding."

Hailey tries to step around me. I grab her elbow and pull her to me. "Listen," I say. "I want you to go upstairs with the kids. I'm going to open that door. But if someone is out there—if what she's saying is true — that's all it would take. One second, Hailey, one second of distraction, and we're dead."

She looks at me, and I see the fear in her eyes. But I also see something else. I see resolve. "I'm opening that door, and I'm pulling her inside and you're going to shoot anything that moves. Otherwise—hand me the gun and let me do it."

"Reese!" Hailey calls, tapping on the glass. The little girl looks up at us. "Come here, honey. It's okay."

Reese cries, mumbling something inaudible.

"Open the door, Tyler," Hailey says.

I can hear the sirens coming from half a mile away. The thumping of my heart drowns the sound of the police cars out. They should have been here by now.

"I think we should wait."

"Open the door," she says again. "Or I will."

It's not a request. I'm not going to win this fight. I’m not even sure I want to. I turn the knob.

54

Hailey

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