The metal building

  Route 22

  Merrville County

  Detective Samuels meanders his sedan along the road leading up to the large metal warehouse. The young detective observes the sleek blue van parked in back, barely visible from the road.

  "Someone is definitely using this old place as a base of operations," Samuels whispers almost to himself. "I'm gonna sneak inside and see what we're dealing with. I want you to stay in the car until Dave gets here. Alright?"

  "No," Rachel answers, her voice hard. "Not alright. You saw what almost happened to me back at my apartment. I think I'm safer with you."

  "This is not up for debate," Detective Samuels retorts, his nostrils flaring with frustration. "I want you to stay in the car. Honk if you see anyone drive up or try to flank me. I need you to watch my back, Rachel. Please."

  "It's a free country, Detective Samuels," Rachel snaps. "And I'm not actually in your custody. I don't want to stay in the damn car. I'm tired of being a helpless target. I'm tired of hoping someone doesn't strangle me...Or just shoot me. I want to help. I saw the extra gun in your glove compartment. Give it to me."

  "No."

  "Yes," Rachel says, reaching to open the glove compartment.

  Detective Samuels grabs Rachel's left wrist and lightly tugs on it. The pained expression on the grieving woman's face, as she once again makes eye contact, causes indecision to creep into the detective's psyche. He briefly averts his gaze, inhaling deeply.

  "I can't do that, Rachel. I can't give you my sidearm. It wouldn't be the responsible thing to do. But if you insist on coming with me, you're gonna have to be careful. Stay close."

  "I know how to use a gun, Detective. I'm not some helpless damsel. Even if current events say otherwise. It's just...I stopped being who I was before because I thought...I loved Ned. For a long time, Ned was my everything. But now...He's dead. They killed him, Detective Samuels. I know Ned was just another criminal to you cops. But he was my lover. And despite how cruel he could be...Despite the things he did to me...I'd really hoped he could change. I wanted Ned to get help. I wanted us to be a true couple again. Real lovers. He said...He was going to take me to the Bahamas. We were going to make things right. Maybe even have a baby together. Now, there's no chance of that. I want those son of bitches to pay."

  "I know you do, Rachel. But running in there, waving a gun around, isn't the answer. These are trained killers. The same people who shot Evelyn Reardon from over one-hundred meters away. You go in there, Rachel? There's a non-zero chance you might not be coming back out."

  Detective Samuels gazes hard at Rachel, hoping that he is getting his message across. Tears moisten the young woman's eyes, and her bottom lip quivers.

  "So what?" Rachel asks in a choked voice. "What do I have to live for anyway? Evelyn was my friend too. We weren't as close as we used to be, but--. Karine is dead, my parents are dead, Ned is..."

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Rachel looks away from Detective Samuels. She stares at the foreboding metal building. The hatred emanating from the young woman is nearly palpable in the tight confines of Samuel's car. When Rachel turns back to the detective, there is a determined expression on her countenance.

  "The only family I've got left is Lenny. And he's off living his perfect life. I want my brother to be happy, Detective. He doesn't need me. And I need to do this. I'm going in there with you, Samuels. I can better watch your back that way. You leave me here...You might be giving them a target. Or a hostage. If I'm armed? That's even better."

  Detective Samuels works his lower jaw in frustration. Rachel does have a point. Even if her point is entirely self-serving.

  "Fine," the detective says with a sigh.

  Samuels pulls the pistol from his holster and checks it. He hands the gun, buttend first, to Rachel. Rachel takes the weapon, puzzlement evident on her face.

  "That's my personal sidearm," Samuels says, leaning across Rachel and opening the glove compartment. "The department issued me this one. I can't let you have it."

  Quietly closing the glove compartment, Detective Samuels straightens up and looks Rachel in the eye.

  "Be as quiet as you can. And stick close. You go where I tell you to go. Got that?"

  "Got it," Rachel says, nodding emphatically.

  "Okay."

  -

  -

  Detective Samuels enters the metal warehouse first. He is surprised to find the large front doors unlocked. With what they suspect has gone on inside this very building, the doors being easily accessible is suspicious at best. Way too easy. Where the hell is Deputy Newsome?

  "Okay, Rachel. I need you to stay by the doors. Make sure no one comes in on us. I'm gonna start checking out those rooms. Someone is definitely here. We saw their vehicle from the road. Stay put. If something moves out there which isn't me...Fire a warning shot."

  "Okay."

  Detective Samuels moves toward one of the four doors on the other side of the warehouse. Rachel peeks outside, glancing right and then left. So far, no one.

  She peers over her shoulder just as Detective Samuels enters the first room, his department issued weapon drawn and leveled. Turning her head back forward, Rachel barely has time to scream as a pair of hands roughly pull her out of the double doors. The thug named Chris yanks her to his chest, crushing her against him. He easily disarms her, tossing the weapon aside. With a voice like dry leaves, he presses a finger to his thin lips.

  "You're just gonna be quiet. There's a good girl. How many of you are there?"

  Rachel shakes her head from side to side. Her reluctance to answer causes Chris to become visibly angry. He shakes her violently, demanding an answer.

  "I said...How many of you are there? Answer me quick. Or I put a hole in your stomach."

  "You told me to be quiet!" Rachel hisses, stalling for time.

  "You know what I mean," Chris hisses back. "Scream...And it'll be the last thing you do. I may not be Special Forces anymore. But my willingness to kill gets stronger every day. It's a bloodlust. Wanna find out? Test me, bitch."

  "Three of us," Rachel lies. "There's three of us. My partner is scoping out the back. My supervisor is inside. But that's not everyone. The cavalry is on its way, chum. They'll be here soon."

  "Hmm," Chris says almost under his breath. "You sure there's only three of you here right now?"

  "Yes. Only three."

  Chris uses one hand to pull Rachel's hair, yanking her head back. He growls down at her face.

  "Stop lying to me, Rachel! Yeah, I know who you are. You're Ned's little squeeze. How many of you are there? Is it just you and the cop?"

  "Yes. Yes. It's just us!" Rachel says, a pained grimace on her face.

  "Good!" Chris replies, lowering his head and roughly kissing Rachel on the mouth. "Mmm. Too bad old Ned is dead. I can see why he was so taken with you. It's gonna be a pity putting a bullet through your pretty forehead as well."

  "Oh my gosh!" Rachel gasps. "You killed Evelyn?"

  "Sure did. That should be all the evidence you need not to test me. Now, let's move."