Page 19 of Every Last One
Kreiger had left them after eating to rejoin ERT. Brice and Monica continued pulling registrations and backgrounds on vehicles in the area. Luis’s efforts with the security company hadn’t paid off yet, so they were still without eyes on the situation inside.
Gibson raised his left arm in the air and snapped his fingers. Everyone looked at him. Neal came over, standing at their backs and literally breathing down Gibson’s neck.
Gibson didn’t say or do anything but lower his arm for the next few seconds. Sandra watched as a window flashed up on his computer screen. “Bingo. Okay, so there was just a transmission. Two parties. A man and a woman. Trajectory puts the communication inside the hospital.”
A thrill ran through Sandra. “What was said?”
“It was short and sweet, but the system automatically records activity.” Gibson took his headphones off and hit a button. The recording came over the speakers in his laptop.
“I just got some sweet insurance,”a man said.
“Stick to the plan,”a woman hissed.“And get off the radio!”
Short and sweet was right, but it confirmed that early 911 caller’s statement. “So thereisan armed woman inside.”
“But we still have no way of knowing what floor she’s on,” Brice said.
“I’m curious about that man’s voice.” Sandra looked at Luis. “Did that sound like Hartley’s?”
Gibson played it again.
“Nah, I wouldn’t say so. Guy sounds about the same age, though.”
Sandra could hear that too. Or as she’d describe it, the voice belonged to a mature male. “So this could be the man from the fourth floor. Or someone else we don’t know about yet.”
“Well, if it’s the guy from the fourth, we know that Jordon Maddox was on that floor,” Brice said, turning toward her.
Her colleague’s implication chilled her. Maddox’s wealth and prestige would make him a target and provide the gunman with leverage. Orinsurance, as he’d put it. The man would feel protected and invincible. “I need a walkie-talkie ASAP.”
Gibson reached overhead to a cabinet and pulled one out. He powered it up and twisted the dial to the right frequency. “You’re all set.”
As she took the walkie-talkie, she was blasted into the past.
“Peanut, do you copy? Over.” Sam’s young voice comes across the radio with my call sign. It was Mom’s nickname for me because I was smaller than Sam when I was born. When he uses it, I feel closer to her. It helps even more as I was lying awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, feelinguncomfortable in this new place. The house, the smells, and the foster parents are strange. All these things keep me up.
“I copy. Over,” I say back, wishing we shared a bedroom, but we’re not allowed with me being a girl and him a boy.
“What is your situation? Over.”
“I wish you were here. Over.” A hot tear splashes my cheek.
“I am here. Always. Now, sail off into Dreamland, and I will meet you there. Copy? Over.”
“Copy. Goodnight, Sam. Over.”
“Goodnight.”
The recollection replayed in less than a second, but the passing memory had left its mark. It didn’t feel like she’d ever get over the loss of her brother.
“Okay, so is everyone ready?” She looked at the team.
“Born that way,” Brice said. Not that his cocky response surprised her in the least.
Gibson and Neal all nodded that they were ready. Monica, the ever-diligent scribe, had her fingers over the keyboard of her laptop ready to record the conversation.
Moment of truth…Sandra was thinking this as she pushed the button on the walkie-talkie. She wason the air. “Hello there. Anyone on this frequency?”
The silence stretched out for a few seconds before there was a response. “Go away. This is a private channel.”
