“Women, Agent, Feb’s not the only one in there.”
“We’re gonna try to talk him out.”
“He wants me,” Colt reminded Warren. “Send me in and I’ll get the women out.”
“Let us deal with this, Colton.”
“We got ears,” someone shouted and Colt’s head turned to a cruiser where Eric, another of the town’s uniforms was folding himself in the passenger seat. Everyone jogged to the cruiser but Colt pushed in close.
“Someone’s called 911, not talkin’, just opened the line,” Eric whispered.
“Sweetheart,” a man said over the radio.
“Stay away from me,” Feb replied and Colt’s neck twisted at the fear he could hear stark in her voice, even muted and scratchy over the radio, but even so, relief poured through him that she was speaking at all.
“Come here, February.” the man demanded.
“You just shot at me!” Feb yelled.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sweetheart… but you can’t call me that.”
“Don’t get near me.”
“Feb, I need you to listen to me.”
“She’s hurt!” Feb screamed, so loud they could hear it not only on the radio but from the house and Colt’s eyes opened, the dread in his gut had lifted, not much, because either Susie or Melanie had been hit, but Feb sounded strong and Colt looked toward the house.
“We start again here, we gotta start clean,” the man said.
“By killing Melanie and Susie? Are you nuts?” Feb asked.
“Oh shit,” someone close to Colt muttered but Colt could have said it himself. Denny Lowe was nuts and he didn’t need Feb riling him.
“February…” the man said then he asked, “what’s that?”
“What?” Feb asked back.
“Feb, what’s that? In your shirt.”
Fuck, she had the phone on her and Denny had seen it.
Feb wisely changed the subject. “You just shot at me. I want to go,” she snapped. “I just want to go. And I’m taking Melanie and Susie with me.”
“Lift up your shirt,” Denny demanded.
“I’m going,” Feb declared.
“You can’t go. You’re meant to be with me and to be with me we have to start clean. Now, what’s in your fuckin’ shirt?” The man’s voice was getting agitated, they didn’t have much time. Susie’d already suffered a gunshot wound, God knew the state of her. Melanie was likely up next. And Feb, Feb kept at him like this, Denny would do her too.
Feb stayed on target, keeping his focus off her phone. “Susie’s bleeding, she needs help. You let her bleed to death on her own couch, I swear to God, we’re through, over. You hear me?”
Colt turned to Warren. “Talk to him or I go in,” he demanded.
Warren turned to the house and lifted the speaker to his mouth.
“Dennis Lowe!” he called through the speaker and Colt went around the cruiser to the driver’s side, opened the door, pulled the latch to the trunk then moved to the back of the cruiser, nabbed a vest and put it on while Warren continued. “Dennis Lowe, this is the FBI. We’re outside and we know you’re holding February Owens, Melanie Colton and Susan Shepherd. We know you’ve shot Susan. We don’t want anyone else hurt. Put down your weapons and exit the house immediately. This will be your only warning.”
Sully got close as Colt pressed down the Velcro. “Colt, man, what –?”
Colt didn’t look at him. In fact, he ignored everyone, including the variety of voices shouting his name as he jogged to the house, pulling his gun out of the back waistband of his jeans.
* * * * *
“February, just please, come here,” Denny pleaded.
My eyes went to Susie, her eyes were closed. Either she was dead or unconscious. I’d successfully taken his mind off my phone but I knew I was running out of time.
“Let them go,” I demanded to Denny.
“Why won’t you listen to me?” he shouted.
“Maybe because you’re shooting people and acting crazy!” I shouted back.
For some reason, his eyes went to the door then he lunged toward me.
I was too slow in making a move to avoid him. He caught my arm and pulled me back.
Then the door opened and Colt walked in, carrying a gun, calm as you please. Upon entry, he lifted his weapon, aiming dead on at Denny.
I stared at Colt as I felt the cold steel of the gun hit my temple.
Then Denny said, as if he was hosting a dinner party, “I’m glad you could make it.”
* * * * *
“Let her go,” Colt ordered.
“Drop it,” Denny Lowe demanded in return and he jerked Feb in his hold.