Chương 12
She shut the door.
Harold said, “You should be with your daughter.”
“I am.”
“She needs you.”
“She needs Diana alive too.”
That got silence.
I looked at Ortiz.
She was writing fast.
“Put Diana on.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s emotional.”
“She sounded frightened.”
“Those are not mutually exclusive.”
“You’re keeping her from leaving?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then put her on.”
Harold exhaled.
“You’re very accustomed to giving orders.”
“And you’re accustomed to making people think paperwork is authority.”
Another pause.
“You always disliked the management company.”
“I barely thought about the management company until today.”
“That is generally the preferred arrangement.”
There it was.
Not a confession.
Not even close.
But something true slipped through anyway.
He preferred invisibility.
“Where are you, Harold?”
“You know I’m not answering that.”
“Then why take the call?”
“To correct a misunderstanding.”
I almost laughed.
“An eight-year-old was chained outside with a heart monitor alarming.”
“That was Diana.”
“You built the classification system.”
“You have no evidence of that.”
“You were on video discussing it.”
He went silent.
Only for half a second.
Enough.
“So you haven’t seen everything,” he said.
Ortiz stopped writing.
I felt something shift.
“What haven’t I seen?”
“Nothing relevant.”
“That sounded relevant.”
“Sheriff, you’re upset.”
“I’m interested.”
“You are not behaving like an investigator.”
“I’m not investigating.”
“Of course you are.”
“No.”
I looked through the little window in the door.
Emma was visible across the hallway, sitting up in bed while Dr. Patel adjusted something on her IV pump.
“I’m keeping you talking while other people investigate.”
Harold disconnected.
Ortiz immediately radioed, “Caller terminated, likely Harold Voss, send last-cell data as soon as available.”
Then she looked at me.
“That was good.”
“I thought I was interfering.”
“You were.”
“Pick one.”
“Both can be true.”
A dispatcher came back over the radio.
The call had routed through a cellular tower south of town near Farm Road 1626.
The sector covered several miles.
Warehouses.
Storage lots.
A church.
An old garden center.
Two gas stations.
And a Voss Property Management satellite office.
Ortiz repeated the last part.
“Satellite office?”
“On Mason Industrial,” dispatch said.
I knew the road.
Everybody in the county did.
It was one of those places where asphalt gave up in sections and every business had a metal building, a chain-link fence, and at least one dead appliance behind it.
Ortiz keyed her radio again.
“Units respond, no lights within visual range, possible hostage.”
I reached for the door.
She blocked it.
“Absolutely not.”
“I wasn’t leaving.”
“You were walking.”
“To Emma.”
Her face relaxed half an inch.
“Good.”
I crossed the hall.
Emma looked up immediately.
“You heard?”
“Some.”
Dr. Patel glanced between us.
“How much?”
“The radio.”
Emma pointed toward Ortiz.
“She talks loud too.”
“That seems to be going around.”
I pulled my chair close to the bed.
Emma watched me.
“Is Mrs. Harrington hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
“That man took her phone.”
“Yes.”
“Are they finding her?”
“They’re trying.”
She looked at her hands.
“I don’t like her.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want him to hurt her.”
I sat back.
There are adults who spend their whole lives trying to learn that sentence.
Emma came to it in hospital socks with a bruise on her side.
“Neither do I.”
“She did a bad thing.”
“Yes.”
“More than one.”
“Yes.”
“But if he hurts her, that’s another bad thing.”
“Also yes.”
She frowned.
“You sound like a teacher.”
“I’m having a difficult day.”
Dr. Patel hid a smile.
Emma looked toward the doorway.
“Is she scared now?”
“Probably.”
“Good.”
Then she winced.
“I mean, not good.”
I rubbed her hand.
“You’re allowed to be angry.”
“She should be scared a little.”
“I understand.”
“No, like the amount I was.”
I did not answer.
She looked at me.
“That’s mean.”
“It’s human.”
“Is that the same?”
“Sometimes.”
The nurse came in to check vitals.
For five minutes, the world reduced itself to blood pressure cuffs, temperature, and whether Emma wanted apple juice.
She chose grape.
Then complained because the grape juice was warm.
Dr. Patel found ice.
The normality of it felt almost obscene.
My phone rang again.
Reeves.
I answered outside the room.
“We found the site,” he said.
“Diana?”
“Not yet.”
“Harold?”
“Not yet.”
“Then what did you find?”
“His vehicle.”
“At the satellite office?”
“Behind it.”
“Empty?”
“Yes.”
“Any sign they’re inside?”
“Lights are on.”
“Who’s going in?”
“County tactical team is twenty minutes out.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“We have deputies holding perimeter.”
“If Diana is hurt—”
“We do not know that she is.”
“You heard the impact.”
“So did Ortiz.”
“And Harold answered her phone.”
“We know.”
I leaned against the wall.
“What’s the building layout?”
“Stop.”
“Reeves.”
“Stop being sheriff.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
His voice dropped.
“You have one job tonight.”
I looked at Emma through the glass.
“Be her father.”
“Yes.”
I said nothing.
Then a strange thought came.
“Reeves.”
“What?”
“Check the fire inspection plans.”
He paused.
“Why?”
“Satellite management office is commercial occupancy.”
“I know.”
“County fire marshal keeps access plans.”
Another pause.
“Good.”
“I’m still useful.”
“I never said you weren’t.”
That hurt more than if he had.
“Call me.”
Twenty-seven minutes passed.
I knew because the wall clock ticked louder than it had any right to.
Emma finally dozed.
I sat with one hand around hers.
The hallway darkened into night-shift quiet.
Shoes squeaked.
A vending machine dropped something with a thud.
Somewhere nearby, a baby cried until its cry became exhausted little hiccups.
Then my phone vibrated.
Not a call.
A message from the prepaid number.
I stared at it.
One line.
Don’t let them enter through the front.
I stood.
Another message came.
Camera over lobby door.
Another.
Back loading entrance is alarmed.
Then a fourth.
Roof access.
I called Reeves.
He answered with, “What?”
“The prepaid sender is messaging again.”
“Read it.”
I did.
May you like
He did not respond for several seconds.
“Why would they know the building?”
