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“But … I promised. To … keep her … safe,” he wheezed between ragged gasps.

“She will be. David and I won’t let anything happen to her,” promised Graham. Logan could just make out David sidling up closer to Annika, bracing himself to charge Petersen if needed.

Ian McClintock and his fellow deputies arrived then with sirens blaring, the tires screeching to a halt. They jumped out of their cruisers; guns trained on Petersen. Annika stepped to the left, between the deputies and Petersen. Logan groaned. She was now between the cops and Petersen. What in the world was she thinking?

“No! Stay back!” Annika screamed, holding her hands up to ward off the deputies. The cavalry was here, she needed to let them take Petersen down.

With her back turned to him, she didn’t notice Petersen approach until he’d grabbed her, and Logan was helpless to stop it. Petersen pulled her back against his front, his arm wrapping around her neck, gun held to her side. Her eyes went wide, and her body froze.

This wasn’t happening. His worst nightmare played out right in front of him. And this time it most definitely would be his fault. Barely able to breathe and unable to get up off the ground, he couldn’t shield her. He was going to lose her, and he was helpless to stop it.

“Annika,” Logan tried to yell for her, his voice barely a whisper as he gasped for air. She ignored him.

“Mr. Petersen. Do you remember me from Jolene’s the other night?” She started talking to him like they were meeting for coffee or some such shit. Her voice wavered slightly, but she spoke clearly to the man holding her hostage.

“I met your daughter, Rachel, there that night. She’s the sweetest little girl. So full of life and joy. I always wanted children. A daughter just like your Rachel.” Logan watched as Petersen’s body language relaxed a margin. She had his attention. Completely focused on her and her words, the arm holding the gun lowered a tiny bit.

“Can you tell me, Mr. Petersen, I’ve always wanted to know, what was it like when Rachel was born?”

“What?” Petersen asked. He shook his head and his arm around her throat loosened. Annika took advantage of his loosened hold and spun around to face him. Logan groaned, seeing the same sudden move she’d used during her first confrontation with Petersen. The risk she’d taken that night in Jolene’s had made him so angry. He’d let his fear overcome his common sense and said some nasty things to her that night. But that had led to their first night together, and he wouldn’t change that for anything in the world.

Petersen was momentarily shocked by her change in position but rallied and raised the gun again, this time pointing upward toward her chest.

“Rachel. What was it like to hold your baby daughter for the first time?” She kept saying Rachel’s name. He figured she was hoping to remind Petersen, to get him to put the gun down for the sake of his daughter.

She was so close to him, and Logan was in agony seeing the gun mere inches from her. Logan felt the panic build in intensity, afraid the gun would go off again.

Petersen’s eyes darted around, from her to the deputies to Logan, and the panic in them was evident. “Eyes on me, Mr. Petersen,” Annika shouted in her stern teacher voice. His eyes shot back to her. “Look at me! Only me. Look at me and tell me what it was like to hold Rachel for the first time?” He looked down; his attention completely focused on her. “What were you feeling when you first saw her?”

“It was … it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. She was so little. So completely dependent on me.” The corners of his lips tilted up in a small smile.

“Why did you choose Rachel for her name?”

“It was Carlie’s idea. She’d read that name in a book somewhere.”

“Carlie must have been overjoyed as well to meet her new baby girl.”

“She was. She always wanted a girl.” Shockingly, the man smiled as he thought of his wife, the gun trembling in his hand. The strobe light effect from the rotating beacons on top of the police cars had an eerie effect on that smile.

“Mr. Petersen. How do you think Carlie would feel about what you are doing right now to that little girl? To Rachel.”

“I … what? I …” he stuttered.

“Think back to those first days you and your wife had with Rachel. I bet you both had big plans for her future. You probably wanted to give her the world.”

“I … yes. We wanted to give her everything.”

“What kind of world are you giving Rachel right now?” There was confusion etched into his features. It was clear he didn’t understand or couldn’t comprehend in his maddened state what she was trying to convey. “Do you want her to live the rest of her life in a world where her daddy, the first man she ever loved, is a murderer? Or do you want her to live in a world where her daddy made a mistake but worked hard to fix it? To make amends so that he can return to his baby.”

“I … don’t know,” he muttered. The gun wavered in his hand, slipping lower.

“Yes, you do, Mr. Petersen. You want to give me the gun. You want to teach that precious little girl of yours that there is still good in this world. That you loved her enough to give up the gun and start making amends for your mistakes. She will forgive you if you give me the gun. Carlie will forgive you. But only if you give me the gun.”

“I … I have to …”

“Did Carlie love you?” she asked, interrupting whatever illogical thought he had.

“What? Yes, of course, she did.”