Kidnapped At Christmas. Maggie K. Black
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I know we didn’t talk to Samantha long, but Olivia knows her well. Apparently, Samantha’s tenacious when it comes to collecting and understanding information.”
Joshua started up the stairs to the second floor. “I wish the police had offered her some decent ongoing protection instead of just letting her leave there with nothing but a phone number to call and a recommendation for counseling from Victim Services.”
“I’m sure the police do too,” Daniel said. “But they can’t assign an officer to every single person in trouble.” Which is where Ash Private Security came in.
“Do you have a phone number or contact details for Theresa Vaughan?” Joshua reached the landing to the second floor and found a hallway of closed doors. “Alex’s former fiancée? The therapist? Last I heard she was volunteering with Victim Services.”
“I’m pretty sure that Olivia does. Why? Do you think Samantha should talk to her?”
“Maybe.”
A crash sounded above him. A scream filled the air.
Samantha!
“Daniel!” he said. “I think we have an intruder at Torchlight. Call nine-one-one!”
He stuffed the phone in his pocket and pelted down the hallway. A second scream came from above now. This one was louder, angrier, like a wildcat fighting for its life. The door at the very end of the hall was open. He dashed through and found himself pelting up a second, narrower flight of stairs that opened into a huge, open-concept space with steeply slanted ceilings and a scattering of cluttered desks.
The image of a bird spanned the sloping wall ahead of him in dripping spray-painted strokes of black. Beneath it a graffiti artist’s signature tag read: Hermes.
Two more lines of scrawl curled in uneven strokes along the adjacent wall.
The Magpie says,
You’ve been warned.
Delete—
The words cut off in a trailing line of paint. Joshua could feel the hackles rising on the back of his neck.
Delete what?
A muffled cry came from his right. He turned. Samantha stood still in the entrance of a long narrow alcove. Instinctively his hand reached out to her, a question forming on his lips. But as he stepped toward her, the shadows shifted, and he saw why she stood frozen. A man grasped her tightly around the neck from behind. A white hoodie and a buglike painter’s respirator mask covered his face. Hermes’s arm tightened around Samantha’s neck, yanking her back in a choke hold.
Instinctively Joshua’s hands rose in front of him, hoping the universal sign of non-aggression would buy him enough time to figure out what was going on, and how to get Samantha out safely. Quickly he surveyed the room, his battle-ready gaze rapidly taking in the details. Winter light and cold air streamed through the alcove, which Joshua guessed must lead to the fire escape. The scrawl on the wall was still wet and dripping. A single overturned chair and a few papers strewn on the floor signaled a small-scale struggle. But the room hadn’t been ransacked. The mask that hid the intruder’s face was the kind of plastic respirator mask worn by graffiti street artists and people doing home repairs. Despite the heavy leather boots on the young man’s feet, the baggy hoodie covering his head implied he was a common thug, not a military operative.
“Hermes” kept one arm around Samantha’s neck. The other hand was buried in his sweatshirt pocket. Whatever that hand was holding inside the pocket, he was pushing it hard against Samantha’s side. So, Hermes had a weapon. A knife? A gun? Another explosive? Whatever it was, there was no way the man would miss hurting Samantha with it at that range, and there was no way to safely disarm him in a space that narrow.
So, Hermes. I’m guessing you didn’t expect to find anybody here and don’t have a plan.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Joshua kept his voice steady. “It’s all going to be okay and nobody needs to get hurt. Can I call you Hermes? That’s your graffiti tag, right?”
No answer. Gray eyes glanced up suspiciously over the top of the respirator mask.
Joshua risked taking a step toward him, his voice level and his hands still slightly raised. “You don’t want anybody to get hurt, do you, Hermes? You’re not a bad guy. You’re not looking for trouble. You just came here as a messenger from Magpie to paint something on the wall, right?”
With every step he could feel the empty space on his hip where his service handgun would normally be. But Canadian gun laws being what they were, even he didn’t have a permit to carry a service weapon while on home leave.
He glanced at Samantha. His eyes took in every inch of her form. Her clothes were disheveled. She hadn’t given up without a fight. But her limbs now shook. Her gaze darted around the room.
Look at me, Samantha. Please, I know your brain is going to want to switch off and let the fear take over. But fight it. Stay focused. Stay with me.
Hermes took another step backward, dragging Samantha after him by the throat.
Come on, Samantha! Please! I need your help to get us both out of here alive.
Hermes slunk deeper into the alcove, blocking out the light. Samantha’s eyes closed in what he hoped was prayer. Joshua’s silent pleading turned to prayer too. God, please help me defuse this situation! I’m going to have no choice but to rush Hermes. But if I do, I’m putting Samantha’s life in danger.
Hermes spun Samantha around sideways and for a moment seemed to get caught as he jostled for room in the narrow space. Then, with a cry, Samantha tumbled backward out the balcony door. Joshua sprinted across the room. The graffiti artist yanked a gun from his pocket and fired. Instinctively, Joshua dropped to the floor and rolled, as the sudden bang and flash seemed to fill the room. But the sound of the bullet’s impact never came. He crouched onto his toes and looked up. Hermes closed his eyes and fired again. No recoil. Joshua almost snorted. Hermes was shooting blanks. Joshua vaulted over the second desk and charged. Hermes turned on his heels and ran out the door after Samantha. But before Joshua could even reach the alcove, he heard a crash and an angry scream of pain filled the air.
Joshua ducked into the alcove, ran through and came out on a small balcony leading to a fire escape. He blinked. Hermes now lay flat on his back. Shards of pottery were strewn around him on the icy wood. Dirt covered Hermes’s body like soot. Joshua turned and saw the reason why. Samantha stood by the fallen graffiti artist. Pale sunlight fell over her face. Fierce defiance flashed in her eyes. The remains of a heavy clay vase were still clutched in her hands. A jolt rippled through Joshua’s heart like it was attached to jumper cables.
Samantha had grabbed the vase and broken it over Hermes’s head.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Samantha’s eyes snapped to Joshua’s face. “Please tell me you called nine-one-one.”
“Daniel did.”
“I’ve got the gun from him.” She held it up. “But he was just firing blanks.”
Huh. So she knew something about both guns and land mines.
Hermes was groaning. The young man pulled himself onto his hands and knees. Joshua pushed him down and pinned him with an arm against his throat.
“Who are you? What are you doing here? Who sent you? Who is Magpie?”
He yanked off the respirator mask. Frightened eyes stared up into his face. Something inside Joshua’s heart lurched. Hermes was clearly overwhelmed and terrified. Had Magpie even told him the gun was loaded with blanks? Joshua sat back on his heels, loosening the pressure on the boy’s throat. Someone that unseasoned and scared probably wasn’t going anywhere.
He turned to Samantha. “Do you have any idea who this is? Have you seen this