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“Sir, I can’t help you with that. The state—”
He slams his fist down on the counter, and Melody lets out a small yelp.
“You were the one who opened your mouth and got her removed from my home. Her home.” His words are direct and steady, despite the alcohol I can smell on his breath. “You pick up the phone and tell whoever that you were wrong.”
“That’s not how it works.”
Troy reaches behind his back, pulls out a handgun, and points it at me. Melody screams while I calmly stare down the barrel.
“You get me my daughter back, or else.”
Jackson
I pull into the station a little before ten. For the hundredth time today, I check my phone. This no contact, I need space crap is bullshit. Over the years, I’ve watched Rory pull this shit on other guys, and now it’s happening to me. I pull up our text message thread and send her one.
Me:This has gone on long enough.
Staring at the screen, I wait for a reply. But there is none.
Me:I only have about five minutes until my shift starts. Can you please call me?
Nothing. No response, no three little dots to get me excited. Radio silence.
Shit.
I tell myself to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, she’s at work. Maybe she’s busy. If I don’t get a response by the time my shift ends, I’ll swing by her place and end this once and for all. I’ll carry her out of the townhouse caveman style if I have to.
The station is buzzing with a tense energy. Skip and the other officers are huddled around the dispatch booth. All of them have the same tense expression on their face. Maybe there’s been an accident.
“Did the caller specifically state she saw a gun?” Skip asks the dispatcher.
“I think she said she saw him put something behind his back that looked like a gun. Her cell cut out before I could ask any follow-up questions. Her service was so bad I was only getting every other word.”
“But she was panicking?”
“Maybe, or jogging. She was breathing heavily.”
“Do we have her location yet?”
“Sir, we have another call coming in. This time from inside the high school. Caller states there’s a man with a gun. He fired two shots and then barricaded himself inside the school office. And now the switchboard is lighting up with incoming calls.”
High school? There’s an active shooter at the high school?
“Everyone move out. I’ll call Jackson to see what the hell is going on. He should still be there.” Skip turns and his pale blue eyes go wide with shock. Or fear. The same fear I’m feeling right now.
Without a word, I run out of the station and straight for my truck. Every other officer on duty follows, but I pay them no attention. There are no lights and sirens for these types of calls. We show up unannounced and without warning. Speeding down the street, I check my phone once more. Still nothing.
Fuck.
Please let her be safe.
Calling, I impatiently wait for her to answer.
“Pick up, pick up, pick. Please baby, pick up.”
It goes to voicemail.
Fuck.
