The air was hot, stagnant, musty, and unbearably still.Sweat rolled down Larkin’s spine and prickled his hairline.Every step he and Doyle took sounded amplified, a megaphone announcing their arrival, ruining any chance at an element of surprise.
Four minutes.
There were two apartments on the second floor.Both doors were locked.
The crunching and cracking of debris got worse on the next set of stairs, and the drywall dust was so abundant that Doyle had to stop briefly to stifle a sneeze.
Two more apartments, and two more locked doors.
The fourth-floor landing squeaked loudly underfoot, and—
—pop,pop,crack—
—perfectly replicated the noises that’d emanated from Noonan’s phone call.Larkin moved toward the door on the left, checked over his shoulder to confirm Doyle had his weapon trained on the staircase and apartment opposite them, then tried the knob.
The door creaked open.
Larkin raised his flashlight and SIG back into firing stance and took in the details as they became available through the tunnel of light: painted pink walls, bulky shapes of furniture hidden under drop cloths, personal belongings boxed and stacked against the far walls—the owner no doubt hoping to avoid any damage done to their possessions during the building’s overhaul.Larkin took a step through the doorway, flashed his light to the left, illuminating an open threshold leading deeper into the apartment.He took a step sideways, keeping his back to the wall as Doyle came in and lit up the right side of the apartment.
Someone let out a muffled sob that devolved into a gut-wrenching scream unable to escape his throat.
Larkin knew that voice.
He’d known it for seven years.
He turned and aimed his light in the same direction as Doyle’s, finding Noah sitting in a chair in the middle of the open kitchen, ankles duct-taped to either wooden leg, arms behind his back, and more than one strip of duct tape across his mouth.Even from across the room, Larkin could see the black eye, the bloody nose, the tears staining Noah’s cheeks.
Two minutes.
Larkin covered Doyle as he moved to the kitchen and then walked backward, SIG still trained on the dark hallway.He reached the tiled floor just as Doyle holstered his weapon, crouched before Noah, and pressed one hand to his cheek as he peeled back the tape from his mouth.
“—erett!”Noah cried the moment the tape was pulled from his lips.
Larkin hushed him.
Doyle retrieved his ring of house keys, moved behind Noah, and used the teeth to cut into the tape around his wrists.
Larkin turned at an angle and said, “You’re okay.I’m here.”
“I—I—”
Doyle tore the tape and Noah flung his arms out and around Larkin’s waist.
Larkin stumbled a little and had to twist out of Noah’s hold so he could keep a line of sight on the hall.He pocketed the flashlight and reached back to put a hand against Noah’s cheek.“You’re okay,” he said again as Doyle moved to the bindings on Noah’s ankles.
“N-No, th-there’s—over there.”Noah was pointing to the sink.
Larkin turned to follow the gesture.
“Listen,” Noah said, and the three of them fell silent.
Tick-tock,tick-tock,tick-tock.
Larkin stepped past Noah, retrieving his flashlight as he moved toward the mechanical sound.He brought the beam across the countertop, empty but for a single sheet of paper that said:
BOOM
—squish
