Lilly’s throat had been cut, blood oozing out of the wound. Her hands were around her neck, trying to stanch the flow. She was in shock, her black eyes trembling in their orbs. Her entire body was seized with the shakes. Ro ripped off her T-shirt and knelt down, wrapping the cloth around Lilly’s neck while Ben called 911, stuttering out an approximation of where they were and what had just happened. He heard his own voice speak, but he was disembodied, trapped in a nightmare, in a horrific, disorienting daze, until he heard Ro’s voice. “She’s alive.” Ro was gently pressing her shirt against her neck. “It’s deep but it isn’t spurting. She’s gonna make it if I have to rip open a vein and give her a transfusion on the spot! Just hang in there, Lilly. You’re gonna be fine. Help is coming, baby, help is coming!”
A distant wail turned louder. They could both hear sirens. Ben dropped to his knees and held Lilly’s clammy, bloody hand. He felt fingers wrap around his. To Ro, he said, “What can I do?”
“Barnes!” She looked up. “Go get him!”
Ben froze, looking back and forth between Ro and Lilly.
“I’ve got this, Ben. Help is seconds away. Go get him! Go! Go!”
As if to propel him forward, Lilly let go of his hand. His legs found their strength. Gun in hand, he stood up and took off to parts unknown.
Chapter 13
His body was slowly returning from the shock, his brain kicking into logic mode.
Ben took in his surroundings.
The first floor of the building was around twenty-five hundred to three thousand square feet, roughly a five-hundred-foot square. The second story was a catwalk that went around the entire perimeter. Every square inch appeared to be taken up by something, mostly boxes that were piled, stacked, and pushed against the wall.
Boxes meant hiding spaces—good for him as protection, bad for him because they could hide a monster known as Kevin Barnes.
The building had a front entrance and a set of back double doors that were still locked from the inside with a double iron bar across the jamb. As far as he could tell, those were the only two ways in or out. But Ben didn’t know the building and Barnes probably did. It was also possible that he had escaped through the front when Ben and Ro were busy with Lilly. He could be long gone, but he could also be within reach.
Take nothing for granted.
Into the bowels of the warehouse. Ben knew he couldn’t get a good sense of the layout from the first floor. There were too many boxes breaking up his sight line. He had to go up. A metal staircase was in the corner of the back wall, near the locked and barred double doors. He tiptoed upward, pausing to make sure that each step was silent. When he reached the second story, he immediately hid behind a wall of cardboard. He crouched down, scanning the lower level. He couldn’t see everything because of all the obstacles, but he could see enough to orient himself in relation to the building. Most importantly, he could see the back doors. He suspected that Barnes was doing exactly what he was doing. Barnes’s goal was to get out. Ben’s goal was to stop him.
The sirens kept getting louder and louder until the wailing finally stopped. The lull was followed by a surge of humanity bursting through the front door. First the police, then three EMTs with doctor’s bags and equipment. Ben could hear Ro shouting to them and the cops shouting back. The police began to fan out inside the warehouse, taking up positions on the lower floor and upper area with two of them keeping watch over the double doors in the back. If Barnes was still inside, there was no way that he could make it through those babies. The only way he could leave was through the front entrance.
The police were calling out Ben’s name, wanting him visible and out of their way so they could continue with the manhunt without shooting him. The smart thing to do would be to say something and wait for them to retrieve him. Get the hell back to safety. Let the pros be the pros. Live to see another day.
But that train had long left the station. Ben had become a heat-seeking missile, homed in on a target and with a predetermined trajectory. Barnes was out there and Ben had to be the one to bring him down. He owed it to Ellen—to Katie and Julia and Jamey, and now more than ever, to Lilly. He had to go one-on-one, knowing full well there was a good chance that it would end badly for him.
Ignoring their pleas to come down to safety. After a minute or two, they stopped calling his name, focusing on the monster. They started calling out to Kevin Barnes.
Kevin, you’re surrounded.
Kevin, give yourself up.
Kevin, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.
Kevin, it’s over.
It was over for him, but not for Ben.
Feeling the weight of the gun in his hand.
He was not a vegetarian. He ate meat and fish and animal protein and never thought much of it. But he also wasn’t a hunter. He wasn’t even much for fishing. Sport killing didn’t hold much interest for him. If he could get flesh from a grocery store, that was fine.
But this was different. It wasn’t bloodlust. That waste of space simply didn’t deserve to live. Even if a jury would decide otherwise, Ben had decided long ago that taking Barnes’s life would be a righteous killing. He had no trouble imagining what Barnes would look like with a bullet exploding his brain. The thought didn’t bother him. Rather, it excited him, feeding him with adrenaline. His vision became clearer and more focused. The hardest thing for him to do was not to react too quickly.
Patience . . . patience.
More people were storming the warehouse. Within twenty minutes, police were everywhere, including Sam Shanks—Ben could hear him yelling out his name. There was concern in Shanks’s voice but also anger. He was pleading and chastising at the same time. But Ben remained rooted.
Either catch me or watch me shoot him dead.
They’d arrest him for murder.
Whatever.
He didn’t know anything about SWAT procedure, but he figured that the cops would divide the area into sectors. That meant a lot of inch-by-inch searching, clearing each space until they found predator and prey.
When the cops stopped shouting Kevin’s name, the space became quieter, but not silent. Ben could hear the static of radios and muffled voices, but sound became dampened, like a mute had been applied to an instrument. There was a good chance he could be shot by accident. All it took was one wrong step.
Slience wasn’t just golden, it was a necessity.
Standing up from a squat, taking soundless steps, trying to gauge the situation, knowing that Barnes was doing the same thing. There was conversation among the cops. When it grew louder, he moved. When the talking got softer, Ben stopped.
Both of the doors were heavily guarded.
He threw himself into the mind of the beast. Suppose he was trapped, surrounded. Would he try for an escape or hang tight? Probably he’d stuff himself into a box and wait, thinking that the police probably wouldn’t open every single carton in the warehouse.
Barnes had to be hiding. And if that was the case, Ben had no choice but to flush him out before the police did. To do that, Barnes would need a glimmer of hope for an escape.