A Deadly Influence (Abby Mullen Thrillers #1)(115)

She was in his room, packing a bag for him, hearing her mom’s voice downstairs talking on the phone. She sounded so different now. In the past week, it had been as if there were a spring coiled within them, and it kept getting tighter and tighter and tighter. Their bodies so strained, a couple of rubber bands stretched to the limit. Now her mom sounded more like a puddle, wet and relaxed. She could finally let go. Because Nathan was safe.

She took his Yoda plushy too; that was important. And crayons so he could draw.

“Gabi! Let’s go,” her mom called.

“Coming!”

She went by her room, grabbed her phone. She would take a picture of the three of them to upload to her feed. Thank all of her amazing followers, old and new. What about the money? Not now, later. She bounced down the stairs as if gravity had lost its hold on her. She felt much lighter than she had this morning. A revolutionary diet.

Mom was already at the door, waiting for her. “Did you pack his plushy?”

“Yeah, I got him everything.”

“Okay.” A happy, loving grin.

Her mom’s phone rang. That was an amazing feeling, to hear the phone ring and not wonder if it was him calling with his strange metallic voice, threatening to kill her brother.

Mom took out her phone, glanced at it. “Oh, it’s Abihail. I need to thank her. Just a minute.” She stepped away from the door, answering the call.

Who was Abihail? Did her mom mean Abby Mullen? But a knock on the door distracted her.

“What?” her mom said behind her, talking on the phone. “I don’t understand.”

Gabrielle peered through the peephole, then opened the door.

“Tom.” She smiled happily at him. “You won’t believe what happened.”

Why was he staring at her like that? What was he . . . was that a knife? Her smile died.

And he shoved her—hard. He stepped inside and slammed the door behind him.





CHAPTER 79


The usually quiet block where Eden and her family lived had lost its customary sleepy atmosphere. Abby took it all in—the patrol cars, the ESU vehicle, the negotiation truck, the men in vests, the sound of a helicopter overhead. A large area around Eden’s house was cordoned off, cops in vests turning the media and the curious onlookers back. A young patrol officer waved them past as they flashed their badges. Carver parked the car on the sidewalk, Abby already leaping out of the car and walking straight toward Griffin, who was talking sharply into his radio.

“I want all the houses on the block vacated,” Griffin barked. “And push the media back. I want those damn cameras out of here.” He turned to face Abby.

“Sir.” Abby breathed hard. “Are you the incident commander?”

“Yes. You’re the one who called it in, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay. The tactical commander is Baker. Sergeant Vereen was the negotiations commander, but I want you to take charge.”

“Yes sir. How many hostages—”

“Get Vereen to fill you in, I don’t have time.” Griffin checked his watch. “It’s three fifteen. I want an update on how the negotiation is going by three thirty.”

Abby turned to the negotiation truck, slid the door open, and hopped inside. After the NYPD had bought the negotiation truck, it was Abby who’d redesigned it to make use of the cramped space in the rear part efficiently. One side had an enormous whiteboard, which Abby preferred over the multiple computer screens that some police forces used. Officer Tammi Summers—a capable young negotiator—was scribbling on the board. At the far end of the work space stood a desk with two phones and a radio. It was the primary negotiator’s workstation.

Will sat by the desk, a phone to his ear. He turned toward her, his face awash with relief. “I’m glad you finally got here.”

“Griffin wants me to take charge.”

“Okay.”

There was no time for bruised egos, and they knew each other too well for that.

“Trying to get him to answer?” Abby asked, pointing at the phone.

Will hung up. “I call every five minutes. He picked up twice so far.”

“Brief me.”

“After you called dispatch, I tried to get both Eden and Gabrielle on the phone with no success.”

Abby nodded. She’d been talking to Eden, warning her about McCormick, when suddenly she’d heard a scream, and the call had disconnected. When she’d called again, there had been no answer. After that, both Eden’s and Gabrielle’s phones had gone offline.

“At ten minutes past one, a patrol car got here. They knocked on the door, and a male voice screamed at them to get away from the door, or she gets it.”

“Who’s ‘she’?”

“We don’t know. One of the cops tried to talk to the man, but he kept screaming at them to get back. Finally they did, calling it in. Meanwhile, the person inside closed all the blinds on the windows. One of the officers saw him dragging a woman with him, but the interior was too dark to see who it was. Griffin got here and took charge. We arrived at two oh five. I called McCormick’s phone several times, and we could hear it ring inside the house. Finally he picked up, shouting at me to get everyone back, or he’d kill them both.”

“So both Gabrielle and Eden are there.”