Page 31 of Shadows of Recovery

After hanging up, Brad slipped his Bluetooth earpiece into place and grabbed his go bag, filled with essential gear and supplies for rapid deployment. He took a final look around his office, ensuring he had everything he needed, then headed out the door.

As he drove, Brad’s thoughts returned to the Everhart family. He knew Charlotte, Isobel, Olivia, Ruth and Sophie well, both personally and professionally. The Everharts were strong, resilient, and dedicated to their community. He had to stay focused and composed, despite the personal connections.

Brad’s car sped down the highway, the miles ticking away as he neared Waverly County. His phone buzzed with updates from his team and the FBI. Each report was a reminder of the gravity of the situation, but also of the resources and skilled personnel being mobilized.

As he approached the outskirts of Waverly County and the hospital’s grounds, the flashing lights of police vehicles and the sound of distant sirens filled the air. Brad pulled up to the command center, a temporary trailer with communication equipment, maps, building diagrams and law enforcement personnel coordinating the response.

Brad stepped out of his car, his go bag slung over his shoulder, and made his way to the center of the activity. He spotted Ethan Hayes, Charlotte Everhart and Alex Marcel deep in discussion with the chief of the county police department. Olivia stood nearby, her face a mix of professional focus and personal worry.

“Brad,” Ethan greeted him, extending a hand. “Glad you’re here. We’ve set up a perimeter and are working on establishing contact with the hostage-takers. It’s been two-plus hours, and no one has answered our requests.”

“Good to see you, Ethan,” Brad replied, shaking his hand firmly. “Alex, Charlotte, Liv.” He nodded to them. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Alex gave a curt nod, his eyes hard with determination. “DOJ is holding back an official response. A political and bureaucratic clusterfuck. But it doesn’t stop my participation as a citizen. Let’s bring them all home.”

Brad took a deep breath. He knew the hours would be critical, requiring every ounce of his experience and training.

“Alright,” Brad said, his voice strong and clear. “Tell me where we’re at.”

* * *

The command centerhummed with tension as officers and agents moved with purpose, communicating updates and strategizing their next moves. Brad stood in the middle of it all, his eyes fixed on the hospital. The first step was to establish contact with the hostage-takers, but so far, their demands had gone unanswered.

The chief’s voice boomed through the command center’s loudspeaker, echoing across the parking lot. “This is Chief Gerald Dawson of the Waverly County Police Department. We need to speak with the person in charge. Pick up the ER phone and talk to us.”

Silence answered him. Brad felt every second ticking by, each moment building the danger inside the hospital. He grabbed the loudspeaker from Dawson, his voice cutting through the still air with authority and calm.

“This is Assistant District Commander Brad Killian of the South Dakota Highway Patrol Bureau. I need to speak with the person in charge. Please pick up the ER phone now.”

Brad handed the loudspeaker back and walked over to the phone line that had been set up to the hospital’s emergency room. He dialed the number, listening to the ringing on the other end. It felt like forever before the call was answered. Finally, a soft, trembling female voice came through the line, “Hello?”

Brad’s heart clenched. “Who am I speaking with?”

“It’s Sophie. Dr. Sophie Everhart.”

Relief and dread washed over him simultaneously. He knew she was alive, but he could feel her fear. “Sophie, this is Brad Killian. Who is in charge there?”

There was a brief pause before Sophie responded, “Damon Whitlock. He’s the one in charge.”

Brad’s grip tightened on the phone. Damon Whitlock was a known figure within the Eldon Sect, a man with a reputation for violence and fanaticism. He was the sixth Whitlock son. His father Trace was the one usually in charge. He wondered if Damon had Trace’s permission. “Sophie, I need you to tell Damon I want to speak with him. Can you do that for me?”

He heard her take a deep breath. “I will,” she said, her voice steadying with determination.

The line went silent as Sophie relayed the message. Brad strained to hear any hint of what was happening on the other end.

Suddenly, there was a sharp sound, a slap, followed by Sophie’s cry of pain. Brad’s blood ran cold. His voice dropped to a controlled, dangerous tone. “Damon, this is Brad Killian. I want to speak with you. Right now.”

There was a shuffling sound, and then a new voice, cold and mocking, filled the line. “This is Damon Whitlock. What do you want, Killian?”

Brad took a deep breath, focusing on maintaining his composure. “Damon, we need to resolve this peacefully. No one else needs to get hurt.”

A dark chuckle echoed through the phone. “You think this is about peace? This is about making a statement. The world needs to know we won’t be silenced.”

Brad searched for a way to de-escalate the situation. “Damon, we can talk about your message, but we need to ensure the safety of the people in the hospital. Let’s start by discussing what you want.”

“What I want,” Damon sneered, “is for you to back off and let us complete our mission. Any interference, and more people will get hurt. Understand?”

Brad’s jaw tightened. He needed to buy time, to find a way to negotiate without provoking further violence. “I understand, Damon. But we need to keep the lines of communication open. Can we agree on that?”

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