Ivy tried to open the door, but it was locked. She hit the handle. “I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.”
“No one’s going to die,” Kate said, but Lucy saw concern in her rigid expression.
Slater and his SWAT team drove up. Slater gave them orders, and a pair went into the building Kate had identified as having visual of the church grounds.
He approached Kate’s car. “Armstrong’s ETA is four minutes,” he said.
“We don’t have time to wait,” Kate said.
Slater looked at Lucy. “We need to buy time.”
“How?”
Slater glanced at Lucy. “Kincaid, you and Ivy are roughly the same height and build. You don’t have to do this, but—”
“Yes,” she said before he finished.
“Luce—” Kate stopped. “Shit, shit, shit. Okay, you two go to the van and swap clothes. You’re wearing a vest, Lucy. Don’t argue. Hat, glasses, don’t go in. This is for show, to expose the shooter.”
“There’s no time,” Ivy said. “He’s calling again.”
Lucy grabbed the phone from Ivy as she started taking off her clothes, motioning for Ivy to do the same.
“I’m here,” she said, panting to mask the difference in their voices. “I’m coming. Around the corner. I ran. Whole way. Please, please. Let me talk to Mina.”
“Finally, some fear. It’s about fucking time, Poison Ivy. Mina, say hi to your girlfriend.”
“Ivy, don’t, he’ll kill—”
The suspect came back on the line. “But you already knew that, right?”
“I’m not coming in until Mina is safe.”
He laughed. “You’re in no position to negotiate. Tick, tock. I don’t see you.”
Slater helped Lucy with the bulletproof vest. It wouldn’t stop a headshot, and they both knew it. But unless the guy was a trained sniper, he would most likely go for the widest target, her chest.
“I want to see Mina before I come in.”
“She’ll come to the fence. That’s it. You come in, then we’ll talk. Ten. Nine. Eight.” He hung up.
Lucy pulled on a torn, greasy sweatshirt to hide the vest. The SWAT guys had been using it as a rag and it reeked of oil. She messed up her hair, then put it in a loose ponytail and grabbed a baseball cap that Slater had in the back. He hooked up her earpiece.
“Count to ten,” Slater said. “My men aren’t in place yet.”
“What’s the plan?” she said.
“First clear shot.”
Noah drove up as Lucy was finished. He ran over to Slater and Kate. “I told you not to put her in!”
“I outrank you, Armstrong,” Slater said. “There are children inside. We have two men on that roof,” he pointed, “and two more in position across the street.”
Lucy squeezed Noah’s hand. “I’m going to be fine.”
She crossed the street so she’d be opposite the church. It would buy her both time and cover since the east side of the street was shaded in the morning.
She looked all around the small church. She couldn’t see the snipers, but she didn’t expect to—they were good. She trusted Slater and the SWAT team.
No one was coming out of the church. Something looked off. The windows. They were clouded.
She ran across the street, but stayed as best she could behind a tree to avoid the line of fire.
Slater said in her earpiece, “We have full coverage once he steps out of the building, either entrance.”
She nodded, not wanting to talk.
The gate leading into the courtyard and play area had been propped open with a rake.
“Mina!” she called, then said quietly for Slater, “Something’s wrong.”
She stepped away from the tree and toward the gate. “Mina!”
“Get back,” Slater said in her earpiece.
“Dammit, you promised to let her go, you fucking bastard!” Lucy shouted. The heat of the morning plus her adrenaline had her sweating and red-faced, so she really did look like she had been running. She had listened to Ivy long enough to mimic her well.
Then she smelled smoke.
At the same time, Lucy had the overwhelming sensation of being watched. Ever since her attack seven years ago, she was acutely aware of eyes on her. It was mostly a curse, but times like this it was a gift.
“He’s on the street,” she whispered and turned to the right, the tree only half obscuring her.
A dark-haired man had a gun on her. “Hey, Poison Ivy—You really are stupid.” He frowned. “Who the fuck are you?“
He made a move for her, and over the bullhorn came, “FBI! Put down your weapon and put your hands on the back of your head.”
The man looked around, then made a move to grab Lucy. She sidestepped him. He crumpled to the sidewalk at the same time Lucy heard the report of a high-powered rifle.
She went over and kicked his gun away, then ran into the courtyard. “Fire in the church!” she shouted.
Smoke was billowing out from cracks in the windows and doors. She ran to the main entrance and pulled; the doors were locked. She ran through the security gate and tried the side door; locked. She pounded on it. “Open the door!”
Noah was at her side a moment later. “The fire department is already on their way.”
“There are kids in there!” she shouted.
Matt Slater came up with a battering ram. He and Noah rammed into the side door, splintering the wood. Smoke poured out; now Lucy could hear the flames.
“Stay low!” Noah ordered.
There was no fire in the church proper, just a lot of smoke. Noah motioned that the school was in the back.
Slater grabbed a fire extinguisher from one of his men and entered the building. Three more of the SWAT team entered, all with guns. They didn’t know if the second man was in the building or not, but assumed there was still a hostage situation.
Lucy followed Noah into the smoke-filled room and stifled a cry.
Six children and two adults had been duct-taped to their chairs.
Noah picked up two kids, with their chairs strapped to them, and carried them out as quickly as he could. Lucy followed his lead, grabbed the closest child, and followed Noah out.
Visibility was nonexistent. Her eyes burned, her throat was raw, she couldn’t stop coughing.
The little boy in her arms was unconscious.
She made it outside, collapsed in the playground, and pulled at the tape.
Each SWAT member ran in and brought out the remaining children and adults, one by one.
Lucy began to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to the little boy.
“Come on,” she willed him, listening for breathing, but the sound of the fire drowned it out.
Not these kids. God, please, haven’t enough people died?
She repeated the cycle and waited a beat.
He began to cough.
She cried tearlessly.
Matt Slater ran out the back carrying a teenage girl. “She’s alive, but she’s been shot in the back. We can’t find anyone else in the building. We’re pulling out.” He said into his headset, “Ambulance?”
“Three minutes,” one of his men said. He shook his head and carried her to the street just as the fire trucks pulled up.
“We need a medic STAT!” Slater called. “Female victim, shot twice in the back. Difficulty breathing. In and out of consciousness.”
The scene was organized chaos. Lucy watched as everyone did their job quickly and efficiently. Kate escorted Ivy to see Mina. A SWAT medic was applying pressure to her wounds. Ivy cried and held her hand. Kate stood there, stoic, watching the scene around her, both participant and observer.
Lucy sat with the little boy, who clung to her like a life vest. She hugged him back.
“God saved us,” the four-year-old said.
“Yes He did,” Lucy said. “With a little help from SWAT.”