I set down my plate and rubbed my eyes. The last thing I needed right now was a lecture from my grandmother. Or a fight.
“Nana, I can’t tell you how bad the timing is.”
“And, Alex? I can’t tell you how little I care what you think right now. Why do you suppose Ava never smiles at you?” she said. “Why do you think the conversation always drops off when you come into the room? It’s because you’re never here! You think she’s that way with everyone?”
“Excuse me, but I’m trying to help bring two kids home to their parents,” I said, barely holding onto my temper.
“Oh yes, because nobody else is working on that one. Excuse
“That’s not fair,” I said.
“Well, someone let me know when everything gets
She snatched the copy of
“Who wants ice cream?” she called out, like nothing had happened, and a small army of feet started up on the stairs. “I’ve got Chunky Monkey, Mint Chocolate Chunk, Cookie Dough …”
I took a deep breath. Then I took another.
“What a great day,” I said.
Bree gave me a sympathetic smile. I could tell whose side she was on, but she wasn’t going to beat me up about this. Not right now, anyway.
“Come on, tough guy,” she said. “Let’s go put some Mint Chocolate Chunk on it. You deserve it.”
SLEEP WAS APPARENTLY out of the question that night. With Bree off working another graveyard shift, the bed seemed way too big and I was left alone with my thoughts. Including thoughts about poor Ava.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ethan and Zoe’s dirty, emaciated faces. And every time I opened them, I thought about what Ned Mahoney had said to me after my encounter with Glass. Or rather, everything he hadn’t said. I could feel the idea of it taking shape like a heavy ball in my chest — half dread, half adrenaline.
If I’d understood Ned correctly, we were talking about something I’d resisted ever since I became a cop, a line I’d never crossed. But then again, maybe that was only because I’d never had to.
What if this was the one night — the hour, the minute — that might make a difference for Ethan and Zoe? Could I live with that? And what if it was my own kids out there, I thought, or Ava, for that matter? Would I even be lying here wondering what to do?
Of course not. In a strange way, my fight with Nana only drove that point home. I would do almost anything to save those kids.
Finally, just after midnight, I couldn’t stare at the ceiling anymore. I sat up fast. In the dark, there are two things I always know how to find — my phone and my Glock. I reached for the phone. Dialed Sampson’s number.
“Hullo?” he answered in a thick voice. “Alex?”
“Sorry to wake you,” I said. “I need to talk, John. Actually, I need your help on something.”
“No prob, sugar.”
“Put on a pot of coffee. I’m coming over.”
“See you in a few.”
I threw on some clothes, splashed water on my face, and left the house.
On the way to Sampson’s, I called Ned Mahoney, too.
He answered on the first ring. “I thought you might call,” he said.
SAMPSON WAS ON board the minute I told him what I wanted to do. He knew I couldn’t ask outright, so he volunteered, and I was just desperate enough to accept. John is six nine, with the kind of arms Michael Vick might wish for. Plus he had exactly the skill set I needed to back me up.
And Ned Mahoney had the tools. He was carrying a small messenger bag when we picked him up at a Park and Ride in North Fairlington.
With twelve years on Hostage and Rescue, Ned was the break-in expert of our group. For the rest of the ride, he did most of the talking. Planning. I just drove and listened.
By two thirty a.m., the three of us were huddled around the back door of Rodney Glass’s condo in Alexandria. It was an attached duplex with a well-lit shared driveway in front, but a lawn and pool area in the back that was all dark and closed up for the night.
I held a penlight for Ned while he unrolled a leather kit of picks and tension wrenches, each one in its own pocket. Usually Ned’s all about the forty-pound battering ram, but he knows how to do small and quiet, too.
