Page 45

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

A lyssa had shifted Peri onto the bed beside her.

Peri’s eyes opened briefly.

“You’re okay, sweetheart.” Alyssa leaned down and whispered, “If anything bad happens, anything scary at all, go under the bed and stay there.” There was enough space between the bed and the wall that Peri should be able to slide right down and take cover, hopefully without being seen.

Alyssa had shifted her own feet to the edge of her side, preparing to move. She kissed the top of Peri’s head and kept her voice the barest whisper. “Don’t go back to sleep. Listen and be ready.” She covered the child’s body completely with the blanket.

It was the best she could do to protect her. She prayed it wouldn’t be necessary. That the police would just start taking people into custody. That she and Peri would be rescued.

Alyssa had considered her options. She didn’t think Spencer was armed. He didn’t seem the gun-toting type. Killing people with drones probably felt no different than killing people in a first-person-shooter video game. But in real life, with actual blood…

No, she didn’t think Spencer was a threat. If anything, he might be on her side if she could convince him that helping her would help him.

Besides, his attention hadn’t shifted for even a second from the drone system.

She watched in horror as he got them flying. They hadn’t been disabled.

He had a different view on each screen, and though all she saw were treetops, one screen showed considerably more lights breaking up the darkness. The forests near Washington, DC, would be much more densely populated than those on the Maine coast.

Stop him, Lord. Stop this. Please!

Benson, the man who’d seemed willing to cut off the hand of an eight-year-old girl, continued to stand vigil in front of the door, his face impassive.

But she’d seen relief there. He didn’t want to hurt Peri. Alyssa, maybe, but not Peri.

She'd devised a plan. There was zero chance it would work. She stepped up her prayers, hoping God would intervene. She'd been praying all along, of course, but these were specific. Not that God needed instructions, but… Well, if you don’t ask, you don’t get. That was what it said in James.

A sense of peace overwhelmed her. It was all going to be okay. God had it in hand.

She had been so sure that she thought, any minute, the door would burst open and a police officer would step in. He’d cuff Benson and Spencer, shut down the SJSS drone system, and ensure that Alyssa and Peri were all right. He’d give them water and coffee and blankets.

He’d take them to Callan.

It would all be okay.

She'd been wrong. About everything.

* * *

When the first bullet flew, Alyssa shoved Peri toward the wall.

Then, Alyssa's feet hit the floor, and she launched herself toward the opposite side of the tiny room. Away from Callan's daughter.

Benson fired.

The bullet hit the bed. The bed where Peri still huddled beneath the blankets.

Peri!

Alyssa couldn’t think about that.

She dove at the hulking guard, expecting a bullet to tear through her body.

But he was slow. Much slower than he should’ve been. As if God had answered Alyssa’s prayer that he be flummoxed. Confused. Unable to adapt.

And weak.

And that Spencer would be useless in a fight.

She didn’t think about that, either.

She barreled into Benson, aiming both of her hands toward the gun.

She knocked him off balance. And managed to wrench the weapon out of his hand.

She didn’t manage to hang onto it, though.

It skittered away.

Benson flipped her onto her back and pinned her down. “Now what are you going to do?” His face was red, his eyes not filled with fury, as she’d have expected, but something else. Fear? “You should’ve just let me shoot you. Then it would be over.”

“You looking forward to beating a woman to death? Is that how your mother raised you?”

He winced.

Yes, there was a human in there.

“Did she raise you to kill children? Ghazi’s going to kill thousands of people. Thousands and thousands of Americans. Your countrymen. You’re going to let that happen, and for what? Money? You think you’re going to enjoy spending it, knowing all the graves you’re responsible for?”

The fear in his eyes disappeared.

Dead Benson was back. “I made my bed. And so did you.” He punched her in the head. Again. And again.

And the world was gray and fuzzy and part of her, a tiny part of her, thought maybe he was right.

She should’ve just let him shoot her.

Then, it would be over.