Page 45 of Wishing Stone

Her expressive chocolate brown eyes.

Her touch.

Her fierce determination.

Every moment we’d ever shared seemed to flash before my eyes, choking me until I thought I might suffocate. Just like the snowflakes falling from the sky, she was unique in her own way and I couldn’t image a life without her in it.

All rational thought erased from my mind. My mouth went dry, and my already rapid heartbeat accelerated. I didn’t care what the cop was saying. The urge to protect the most important thing in my life was the only thing I could focus on.

Ignoring the protests of the cop, I shoved past him and started toward the building.

“Mr. Stone, wait!” Hale called out.

His cry was echoed by Officer Bailey’s and the other nearby cops, but I hurried on undeterred. I couldn’t just sit idly by. I had to get to Krystina. She had a terrible habit of making poor decisions that would land her in sticky situations. In hindsight, it was no wonder I was so protective of her. She didn’t have the best track record.

She’ll be okay. My angel is a survivor.

I repeated that to myself as I hastily moved toward the building. When I was almost to the glass front doors, I felt a hand grab me roughly by the shoulder. I spun, intending to knock out whoever dared to try and stop me, only to find myself face-to-face with three men in navy uniforms.

Before I could react, I was sent hurling face down onto the cold, snow-covered pavement. I struggled to break free as they wrenched my arms behind my back.

“Get off me!” I roared.

The police officers ignored my demand, and as the handcuffs clicked into place, I knew any chance I had of saving Krystina was lost.

18

Krystina

My body shook as I knelt on the ground, face down, with my hands covering my head. Bits of drywall from the ceiling fell around me. Every person in the room had collapsed to the floor when Hannah discharged the weapon. I could hear the quiet whimpers of the children and the soothing whispers from their mothers.

“I’m sorry!” Hannah said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to do that! It-it just went off and-and… I’ve never used a—” She stopped short and choked on a sob.

I angled my head to peer at her. She held the gun out in front of her, staring at it with apparent shock. Her arms and hands were visibly shaking, and her eyes were as wide as saucers. Even though she had been the one to fire the weapon, Hannah appeared just as scared as the rest of us.

I looked through the glass windows behind her. Although I couldn’t see who was out there, I was able to see the flashing lights of police cars signaling that help was nearby. I wasn’t sure how they knew there was trouble at the shelter, but that didn’t matter as long as they were here.

I turned my head and glanced around the room, hoping to find a weapon of some kind. My quick scan revealed nothing but Christmas decorations. Red, green, and silver garland hung on the walls, andHey Santa Clauscould be heard playing quietly from the round speakers in the ceiling. The combination was a stark contrast to the unfolding situation, and I was suddenly reminded of my conversation with Alexander about the movieChristmas Vacation. I suspected the song was the reason for the memory trigger, as I tended to relate everything to music. It made me envision a SWAT team busting through the windows to save us all from this hostage situation just like they had in the film.

But then the image of the Griswold’s yuppie neighbors being disturbed from their sleep filled my mind. Manic laughter threatened to bubble from my lips as I could not process the absurdity of my line of thought at a time like this. I tamped down feelings of pure hysteria, forcing myself to focus on the crisis at hand.

I needed to do something—anything—to deescalate the situation. My breathing was erratic, the panicked breaths almost suffocating under my double layer of masks. I took a moment to calm my racing heart and allowed self-preservation to take over. Once I felt a bit calmer, I thought about the best ways to protect the baby and me.

Hannah seems scared. Perhaps if I try to appeal to her rational side, she’ll see reason.

Raising my hands in the air, I cautiously lifted my head off the ground.

“Hannah, it’s me. Krystina,” I said, moving ever so slowly to push my masks down so she could see my face.

“I knew it was you. By-by your hair,” she stumbled nervously. “I was always jealous of it.”

“Thanks, I guess. I’ve always thought these curls were a bit of a hassle,” I said lightly as I gradually moved back to a standing position. “Look, Hannah. It’s Christmastime. What do you think about losing the gun so we can talk about this rationally?”

“No!” she said, suddenly seeming to find her courage once again. Then, moving the gun between Claire and me, she said, “Which one of you reported me to the police?”

“Nobody, Hannah. We’ve been here the whole time,” I said.

“No, not today. I’m talking about the money. Who told the police I stole the money?”

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