empty-handed.” He started to remove the pistol from the holster.
In sick disbelief, Megan caught the man’s hand and stilled it upon the pistol butt. “So what? If she doesn’t harm herself, I’m supposed to do it?”
“Ma’am, that’s not what I—”
Megan got control of herself. “I know that’s not what you meant. But harming her isn’t an option.”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Gander, I don’t think you know what that girl is currently capable of doing.” Kerby’s eyes turned wintry hard and bright. “During the last two days, I’ve worked three murders and six suicides here on base. I’ve never done that before. Most of them were people I knew in mess hall or from around the family areas of the base.”
Megan had heard about the murders and suicides. Her current caseload dealt with three teens whom the horrible events affected. Like the corporal, she had known most of the people involved.
“She won’t hurt me,” Megan said.
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ve known Leslie for months.”
“And she’s been a troubled kid. I know. I was warned on my way here.” Kerby held the pistol out.
“Corporal,” Megan said in as level a voice as she could muster, “I have no intention of entering that house armed.”
“I could go with you.”
“You could not.” Megan stepped forward, taking one step to the side around the corporal. One of the other men reached for her.
“No,” Kerby said. “Let her go.”
“Doug,” one of the other MPs said, “we let her go in there and she gets hurt, it’s gonna roll over on us.”
Kerby looked at Megan. “My decision, then. Anything rolls downhill on this one, it rolls on me.”
“Thank you, Corporal,” Megan said.
Kerby shook his head. “No, ma’am. I won’t take any thanks from you. Not until you and that girl walk back out of the house in one piece.” He touched two fingers to his helmet in a salute. “Just make sure you do that, ma’am.”
“I will.” Megan turned and walked up the short sidewalk to the porch. On either side of the walkway, yellow and red tulips stood tall and proud. The life expectancy of a fully blossomed tulip was only a week, two weeks at best. But they were a great way to start an early spring after a long winter. Now, however, the cheerful and hopeful flowers seemed out of place.
Anxiety knotted a greasy ball in Megan’s stomach when she caught scent of the sickly sweet smell of marijuana on the other side of the door. What Corporal Kerby had said made sense. Megan didn’t know what she was walking into. And with drugs in Leslie Hollister’s system, Megan didn’t know what frame of mind the girl was in.
Yes, you do, Megan chided herself. She’s scared and hurt and confused. You’ve seen a lot of teenagers like this over the last two days.
But none of those had held a gun in his or her hand.
The thought was at once chilling and sobering. Megan’s hand felt as heavy as an anvil as she lifted it to knock on the door. Knocking somehow seemed more homey, more relaxed, than ringing the doorbell. Her knuckles rapped against the door.
She waited, aware of the silence after the sound of the last knock faded. Security lights pinned four of her shadows to the front of the house. She remained aware of the stares of the silent neighbors just outside the perimeter the MPs had established.
She made herself be patient. She tried to listen for movement inside the house, but she couldn’t hear over the noise pollution of the MPs’ radios.
Dry-mouthed, her knees shaking slightly, Megan lifted her hand again to knock. During the first day after the disappearances, Megan and the other counselors had gone in after kids who had barricaded themselves in their homes. None of them wanted to believe some unknown force had taken away their families and friends.
Then a young girl’s voice called out, “Who is it?”
Thank You, God. Thank You for Your mercy. Megan breathed out a sigh of relief and felt her eyes
In sick disbelief, Megan caught the man’s hand and stilled it upon the pistol butt. “So what? If she doesn’t harm herself, I’m supposed to do it?”
“Ma’am, that’s not what I—”
Megan got control of herself. “I know that’s not what you meant. But harming her isn’t an option.”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Gander, I don’t think you know what that girl is currently capable of doing.” Kerby’s eyes turned wintry hard and bright. “During the last two days, I’ve worked three murders and six suicides here on base. I’ve never done that before. Most of them were people I knew in mess hall or from around the family areas of the base.”
Megan had heard about the murders and suicides. Her current caseload dealt with three teens whom the horrible events affected. Like the corporal, she had known most of the people involved.
“She won’t hurt me,” Megan said.
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ve known Leslie for months.”
“And she’s been a troubled kid. I know. I was warned on my way here.” Kerby held the pistol out.
“Corporal,” Megan said in as level a voice as she could muster, “I have no intention of entering that house armed.”
“I could go with you.”
“You could not.” Megan stepped forward, taking one step to the side around the corporal. One of the other men reached for her.
“No,” Kerby said. “Let her go.”
“Doug,” one of the other MPs said, “we let her go in there and she gets hurt, it’s gonna roll over on us.”
Kerby looked at Megan. “My decision, then. Anything rolls downhill on this one, it rolls on me.”
“Thank you, Corporal,” Megan said.
Kerby shook his head. “No, ma’am. I won’t take any thanks from you. Not until you and that girl walk back out of the house in one piece.” He touched two fingers to his helmet in a salute. “Just make sure you do that, ma’am.”
“I will.” Megan turned and walked up the short sidewalk to the porch. On either side of the walkway, yellow and red tulips stood tall and proud. The life expectancy of a fully blossomed tulip was only a week, two weeks at best. But they were a great way to start an early spring after a long winter. Now, however, the cheerful and hopeful flowers seemed out of place.
Anxiety knotted a greasy ball in Megan’s stomach when she caught scent of the sickly sweet smell of marijuana on the other side of the door. What Corporal Kerby had said made sense. Megan didn’t know what she was walking into. And with drugs in Leslie Hollister’s system, Megan didn’t know what frame of mind the girl was in.
Yes, you do, Megan chided herself. She’s scared and hurt and confused. You’ve seen a lot of teenagers like this over the last two days.
But none of those had held a gun in his or her hand.
The thought was at once chilling and sobering. Megan’s hand felt as heavy as an anvil as she lifted it to knock on the door. Knocking somehow seemed more homey, more relaxed, than ringing the doorbell. Her knuckles rapped against the door.
She waited, aware of the silence after the sound of the last knock faded. Security lights pinned four of her shadows to the front of the house. She remained aware of the stares of the silent neighbors just outside the perimeter the MPs had established.
She made herself be patient. She tried to listen for movement inside the house, but she couldn’t hear over the noise pollution of the MPs’ radios.
Dry-mouthed, her knees shaking slightly, Megan lifted her hand again to knock. During the first day after the disappearances, Megan and the other counselors had gone in after kids who had barricaded themselves in their homes. None of them wanted to believe some unknown force had taken away their families and friends.
Then a young girl’s voice called out, “Who is it?”
Thank You, God. Thank You for Your mercy. Megan breathed out a sigh of relief and felt her eyes
Similar Books
