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Springing forward, Dante crashed into the door shoulder-first, using his body weight to propel him inside the building. In a half-crouch, he scanned the room, his weapon still at the ready. Carol’s computer had been swept to the floor where it lay in a heap, the screen cracked and the keyboard smashed. The desk calendar and Rolodex had met a similar fate. Neither Carol nor Dani were in sight. That was good.
But where were they?
The only way to find out was to choose a corridor, right or left, and hope he guessed correctly.
Fifty years ago, the building had been constructed in a semi-shotgun style, which meant that when Dante inched over and peered down the hallway where the holding cells and André’s office were, he could see all the way to the back door. The evidence room and armory were off the other hallway.
If he were a betting man, or a woman who’d worked the front desk for years and had a young adult to protect, where would he hide? Dani had been in the breakroom. If Carol had any warning, Dante suspected instinct would propel her to get to Dani. Carol knew the station better than anyone, including André. Where the fuck were they?
“All clear,” André said quietly, emerging from the hallway on the right and looking around the lobby. “Crap, this doesn’t look good.”
“Campos.” Dante gave up being patient. “We know it’s you. Quit terrorizing an old woman and teen girl and fight like a man.”
During his years in law enforcement, one thing Dante knew for sure was that men like Alonso Campos had a knee-jerk reaction to being called not a man. Dante had his theories about that, but they didn’t matter. Campos was certifiable.
There was no reply, just the wind prowling its way inside and creating a mini whirlwind with Carol’s paperwork. Dante and André glanced at each other.
“Behind me,” André ordered in a barely audible murmur.
As much as Dante wanted to take the lead, because Dani was somewhere in the building, he nodded.
“The hallway is clear,” André whispered as he kept moving. “Checking the breakroom.”
The sound of a door slamming against a wall was followed by silence. Dante crept down the corridor in André’s wake. The breakroom was empty too. Playing cards had fallen to the floor and that was the only sign of Dani.
From the next room came a muffled crashing sound. Dante froze. Had Alonso gotten into the armory? Surely it was secured at all times.
“Fuck,” muttered André. “That room should be locked.”
“Pretty sure all sorts of rules are being broken around here today.”
They swung around, each taking one side of the door.
“Police! Come out with your hands over your head,” André yelled.
There were some shuffling noises on the other side of the door.
“Just a moment, sir,” Carol called out.
Dante felt lightheaded at the sound of the older woman’s voice, and he moved around to stand at André’s side. More shuffling sounds ensued before the door opened a crack. A narrow strip of Carol was visible.
“Oh, excellent, it is you, sir. I just wanted to make sure this dirtbag didn’t have any friends on the way. He kept talking about his brother.”
Carol pulled the door open wider. On the floor of the small room was the body of a man—Alonso Campos, Dante was reasonably sure. He looked down to see a Springfield pistol held firmly in Carol’s left hand. Dani was crouched in the corner behind her.
“I’m a southpaw,” she said with a shrug. “Always did give me an advantage.”
Dante and André’s attention returned to the body that lay crumpled on the floor. Carol’s gaze followed theirs.
“What happened?” asked André.
“As part of my job, I keep the weapons stored here clean and ready. I was a damn good shot in my day too. This man”—she nudged a leg with her toe—“made it easy for me though. He didn’t expect a little old lady to fight back.”
Dani ran to Dante, and he wrapped his arms around his niece, hugging her to him.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here, topolina.”
“It’s okay—he’s dead now.”
