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“Yes.”
She frowned. “Could be a trap.”
“I know.”
“But you have to go anyway. Let’s get the place scouted to make sure you can get back there without anyone spotting you.”
“No time for that.” He jogged over to Luis and briefed him in as few words as possible. Luis offered him a frown that matched Marissa’s. “The kid told you that?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either, but I feel like I need to do it.”
“What if she was coached?”
“What purpose would it serve? Get me back there and shoot me? Why?” He edged backward, watching the house.
“Beats me. But I’m not sure I’d want to find out.”
“I have to.”
Luis stared at him a moment, then shrugged. “All right. Chopper’s in the air. We’ll get them to do some recon.”
“Again, no time. She sounded like she needed me to get back there ASAP. She used the word ‘hurry.’ Just watch my back.” He tapped his earpiece. “Buzz, you just yell ‘duck’ if I need to.”
“Copy that,” the man answered. “Moving into position now.”
James hurried down the street a few houses before cutting between two to make his way back to the Hensons’ backyard. His gut kept sending warning signals that time was of the essence. As soon as they were finished with the food, Gerald was going to act.
James made it to the edge of the property next door to the Henson home and scouted the backyard. No fence, just a few signs that small children lived there. Swing set, little beat-up plastic car, shovel and pail, and a bicycle with training wheels.
James inched closer, eyes watching for any sign of movement at the back of the house.
“All clear on my end,” Buzz said, his bass voice echoing in James’ ear.
Movement at the window in the corner of the home made his decision of direction easy. He’d just taken three steps toward it when the window slid open and a little hand pushed the screen to the ground with a clang.
He froze, but she didn’t.
“Katy! Katy! Get back in here! What are you doing, you little brat?”
“Breach now!” James raced toward the window, and Katy looked up at him, then back over her shoulder.
“No! Daddy! No!” She turned back to James, eyes frantic, and held her little arms out toward him. “Get me! I want to be with Gretchie!”
He grabbed her as the first bullet whizzed past his cheek. Wrapping his arms around her, he turned his back as the next bullet slammed into him.
The pain registered, the breath left him, and he went to his knees, his mind still working, his only thought to protect the little girl from the man who was supposed to do the same.
Another crack ripped the air, then a scream echoed from inside the house.
Blackness threatened.
“Suspect’s down,” Buzz said, and James allowed himself to fall sideways to his hip, careful not to crush the child still wrapped in his arms.
Running footsteps reached him while he struggled to pull in the next breath.
