Nate pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the history. He didn’t say anything.
Sean grabbed the phone from Nate. Ten minutes ago, at 9:50 P.M., Elise had sent Peter a message.
Kill them all and disappear.
Ryan pushed Sean back before he could hit the girl. “Lucy is fine,” Ryan said.
But he didn’t know that. No one did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The grandfather clock chimed 10:00 P.M.
“There’s police everywhere,” Joyce said.
“Get away from the fucking windows,” Peter ordered.
Joyce cowered and sat on the floor, her back against the wall.
When the police cars and unmarked vehicles began to arrive, Peter had told Joyce to handcuff Lucy. She should have expected it, but she’d hoped that she’d have more mobility.
The phone had been ringing on and off for the last twenty minutes.
“You need to answer the phone,” Lucy said when it started ringing again.
“So they can stall? I know how this works.” But he was worried. He hadn’t planned on being caught. What criminal did?
Elise Hansen. She’d planned on being caught. It was a game to her.
But she’d also planned on escaping. Perhaps the shooting at the hospital this morning had been the first escape attempt. Or maybe Kane and Sean were right, and it had been an attempt on Lucy’s life.
Or both.
The phone stopped ringing.
Peter had barely moved. The boy, still bound and gagged, sagged in the chair. He might have fallen asleep, or just felt defeated. There had been no more sounds from upstairs. Lucy wished she could find out if the mother and daughter were okay.
Peter kept looking at his phone. A message had come in a few minutes before, and Peter seemed to be waiting for something else.
“Joyce, go upstairs and get the mom and girl. We’ll kill these two, then take the kids hostage. They won’t shoot us with kids.”
“We can’t go out there!” Joyce exclaimed. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You said there was a plan.”
“Elise had a plan,” Lucy said. “Her plan was to leave you here holding the bag. She has the money, and she didn’t come for you.”
“Shut up,” he said. “Go, Joyce! Get them!”
Joyce ran up the stairs. The phone rang again.
“Answer it, Peter,” Lucy said, her voice calm and reasonable. “You need to tell them that everyone is fine.”
He shook his head.
“Elise is a sociopath,” Lucy said. “She only cares about herself. You know that, don’t you? How long have you known her? A few weeks?”
“You have no idea who Elise is.”
“Tell me. Tell me how you see her.”
“She’s fucking smart. She’s not scared of anything.”
“How did you meet?”
“I worked for—” He stopped as Joyce ran back down the stairs.
“They’re gone.”
“What the hell?”
“They’re not where I left them!”
“Did you let them go? I tied them up, I know they were secure.”
“No! I swear—”
“You had a soft spot for the girls. You bitch—”
“I didn’t touch them!”
SWAT must have found a way in through the attic or a second-floor window. She caught Brad’s eye and he gave her a little nod. He thought the same thing. Good. Two safe, one to go.
“They’re going to kill us. They’re going to kill us!” Joyce screamed.
Peter shot Joyce in the head. Lucy jerked involuntarily and almost caused the chair to tip over. Joyce crumpled to the tile floor, blood pooling around her head. Lucy stared at the body. She hadn’t expected him to kill his partner. She shook her head to clear it.
Focus, Lucy. Focus on Peter. Get him to lower his guard. Just for a minute.
The phone rang again.
“Answer it,” Lucy said, “or they’ll swarm in and you’ll be dead.” She glanced at Brad again. He caught Lucy’s eye, then blinked once and refocused his gaze toward the ceiling.
She discreetly looked upstairs. There was the curving staircase, a landing, and then the hall disappeared to the right and left. She saw the tip of a sniper rifle aimed in the direction of Peter. But there was no clear shot from that angle.
“I need to think! How can I think with all that noise?” He pulled the boy up from his seat and held the gun on his neck. The boy sagged, his eyes on the dead body. Peter held him up.
“Don’t look at her,” Lucy told the kid. “Look at me.”
The boy averted his eyes from the body to Lucy. They were glassy with terror and resignation that he was going to die. No child should witness murder.