Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(97)

“Correct.”

“I’ll tell him everyone is dead. I’ll tell him I’ve got the money. He can trade me for Dillon,” she said.

“You can’t do that.”

“He’s holding Dillon with a gun to his head. Let me talk to him. Otto will follow me as backup. I’ll go inside, offer to throw my gun into the room, then enter in exchange for Dillon. He takes me as hostage. We’ll have Sergio and Tom in the kitchen. They’ll get Dillon to the truck when he comes out of the bedroom. Otto will take cover in the empty bedroom and shoot if he gets a clear shot as we come down the hallway.”

There was nothing on the headset. Surprisingly, Otto gave her a thumbs-up sign. It was a solid plan and would provide the best chance to bring Dillon home alive. She stood a much better chance at surviving as a hostage than Dillon. She had the money, or she at least had pictures of it on her cell phone.

“Let’s do it,” Nick said. “Time is critical. We’re six minutes into the first shots. Someone has tipped off the rest of the Medranos by now. You have five minutes to make the trade or we come in again with guns. We have no choice.” She listened through the headset as Nick called the other two officers off and told them to back into the kitchen in silence.

Josie pressed the mic again. “Juan?”

“He’ll make it,” Nick said.

Josie looked at Otto for support and took a deep breath. She yelled through the window. “This is Josie Gray. I have the money. I’m coming into the house now to make the trade.”

She heard nothing in return. She felt certain he would negotiate to recover the money instead of admitting to Medrano that he’d been part of the disaster that was unfolding.

Otto followed Josie through the back door. The kitchen was filthy with dishes and trash, and smelled like rotting garbage and spent ammunition. Two bare mattresses lay in the middle of the living room floor and guns were piled on top of a large crate sitting next to it. Two bodies lay on the floor just inside the living room. Josie’s eyes traced the blood-streaked path from the living room to the hallway where the bedrooms were located. She figured that the man must have been dragged into the living room to clear the way. It was obvious this place had been used as a safe house for a long time.

Sergio and Marcos gave a thumbs-up from the living room and motioned them down the hallway. The doors to both bedrooms were closed. Otto slipped quietly past the first bedroom where Dillon was being held and slowly opened the door to the corner bedroom. Once he had cleared the space he turned off the light and pointed a finger at Josie, letting her know he was in position.

Josie was betting the last Medrano guard wouldn’t remain in the bedroom with her; he’d leave as soon as Dillon was exchanged. At this point, he probably wanted out of there as desperately as everyone else. As the remaining member of a job that had gone completely wrong, he would face certain death if he didn’t come up with a solution. Josie knew that having her in custody and her promise of nine million dollars were his last hope.

Josie nodded to Otto and reached the bedroom. “I am standing in the hallway now,” she called out. “Two of my officers are dead. Your guards are dead. It’s you and me. I have the nine million dollars. I have a picture as proof. This is your chance to get out of here alive. You let Dillon Reese go and I give you the location of the money. All of it.”

After a short pause, he called out to her. “Open the door, empty your gun. I trade you for him. You drive me to the money. If I make it safe, so do you. Anyone tries to take me out, you go with me.”

Josie slowly turned the door handle and pushed the door open with her toe. “You shoot me? You will never find the money. I have it all in three suitcases. I have photographs as proof with me.”

“Let me see you.”

Josie tried to still the shaking hands that held her gun. She realized at that moment that both her own life and Dillon’s life depended on the decisions she would make over the next few minutes. She stepped inside the room, her gun pointed toward the floor. Standing to the left of the door, the man held Dillon in a chokehold, his pistol pointed directly into Dillon’s temple.

Josie’s breath caught as she saw Dillon. His eyes lifted to hers and registered her presence but his face remained slack. His eyes were gaunt and ringed with black circles. He wore a sweatshirt and sweatpants that were too short and baggy for his malnourished body. He appeared extremely weak and Josie worried he couldn’t walk on his own. She noticed his shoulder was saturated with blood.

She forced her attention on the guard. She had only glimpsed the man through the window as he was shooting at them. He seemed smaller now, his expression both terrified and full of hatred. He wore a filthy white T-shirt and khaki pants. With dark hair, light pockmarked skin, and wide-set green eyes, he seemed to be of mixed heritage, maybe Mexican-American given his perfect English. He was about a foot shorter than Dillon and appeared to be struggling to hold him upright in a chokehold around Dillon’s neck. Dillon’s knees were buckled and it looked as if he might faint from weakness and fall to the floor at any moment.

The man said, “Lay your gun on the ground and kick it to me.” His voice trembled and sweat dripped down his cheeks. His terror increased her confidence.

Holding her left hand in the air she slowly bent down and did as instructed, laying her gun on the floor, her eyes never leaving the guard’s.