Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(107)

I got out of the car before he could say a word. I closed my eyes and exhaled. I felt a hell of a lot lighter after that confession. At least I wouldn’t be going to my grave with that hanging over my soul. I could face death with one regret wiped off my ledger. I stepped toward the house.

“Iris, wait!” Luke whispered as he got out of the car. I kept walking with the phone pressed to my ear. Billy was still breathing heavily as Elliot typed. Luke was suddenly by my side. “We need a plan—”

“The Becker case. Remember it? When we had to apprehend those four child-porn assholes before they split? Similar layout, similar placement of suspects. We just have to be as quiet as fuck and pray there’s a fucking window or door open.”

“Front door. Most likely they didn’t lock it behind them in all the chaos,” Luke said.

“Sounds good. Load the sound on your phone.” He obeyed.

I listened to my brother. Elliot was still typing, and I thought I heard Ken and Mathias talking quietly. Just keep stalling, Elliot, I thought as I hurried toward the house. It was a two-story stone Colonial Georgian with columns holding up a huge portico and small porch above the front door. My adrenaline pumping, I kept my eyes on the dozen large windows. All one of the bad guys had to do was peek out a window and see us approach, and it was game over. I banked on the hope that they didn’t want to be seen. I was right. There was no movement at the windows.



Luke somehow got ahead of me, moving low with his gun already in his hands in the tactical approach we learned at the Academy. He reached the front door first but waited until I reached him to enter. I could barely breathe, and not from the long walk up the hill. Death was a real possibility. We were outgunned, outnumbered, and out-eviled. All we had on our side was experience and the element of surprise. It would have to be enough.

Luke gently tried the handle, and it turned. Unlocked. Thank God. Slowly, carefully, Luke opened the door, gun pointed inside in case they were waiting there. No sounds. Possibly clear. He peeked in and must have seen nothing because when the door opened enough, he tiptoed in with me at his back. The house was as quiet as a crypt save for the faint, muffled sobs down the hallway. Judith and the maid. The house was as old as the town itself but had undergone some renovations, including the crystal chandelier hanging about our heads. Hardwood to carpet wasn’t one such renovation. Every step toward the study produced a slight creak that raised my adrenaline a notch. We had to move slower than snails, even when we reached the carpet runner down the hallway. Luke kept glancing up at the staircase to our right, then down the hall, gun moving with his eyes each time. I held on to his back as we crept what seemed like a mile toward the open study door.

Luke peered around the corner into the study before clearing the door, stopping on the other side of it. He gestured to indicate there was one suspect with a gun and two others on the ground tied up. We put our backs against the wall. This had to go like clockwork. I nodded that I was ready, and he toyed with his cellphone. The sound of a baby’s cry began playing from it. It was an odd yet normal enough sound to get attention and require investigation.



“Do you have a baby here?” Betsy asked. Her hostages just mumbled through their gags. After an annoyed sigh, I heard footsteps coming toward us. I saw the gun first and the girl herself a millisecond later. I hated to do it, but the moment she saw us and began to open her mouth, I grabbed the arm holding her gun and kneed her in the stomach. A person can’t scream for help with no air. She doubled over and loosened her grip on her gun. My gun now. At the same time Luke pressed his hand over her mouth in case my kick didn’t silence her, and the other arm around her waist. He dragged her back into the study, and I turned back at the staircase, gun pointed in that direction. No one came.

Judith and a forty-something Latina in black and white livery sat on the Persian rug with their mouths covered with duct tape and hands bound behind their backs. Both were still crying and were trying to talk through the gags. Luke nodded at the duct tape on the end table as he held Betsy, who hadn’t stopped struggling against him. He’d have bruises for weeks. I quickly reached the tape and said, “Scream and I’ll punch you again. That can’t be good for the baby.” When Luke removed his hand, she let out the beginnings of a scream, but the tape stopped it. I taped her feet next even as she bucked. Next came her hands. As I moved over to the maid and Judith and removed the tape from their mouths, Luke lowered Betsy onto her stomach in the prone position. With her hands and legs bound, she couldn’t get up even with an hour of trying.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Keep quiet. Keep quiet,” I whispered to them.



“Thank you, thank you,” the maid whispered.

Luke and I bit our way through their other binds. “Elliot?” Judith whispered.

“We’ll get him,” I whispered back. “The two of you need to tiptoe out the front door. Don’t make a sound, and run to a neighbor’s. We’ll cover you. The police are already on their way—they’re about fifteen minutes out. Just run and wait for them.”

“Okay. Okay. Thank you,” Judith panted.

“Come on.” We helped the women rise. Both were shaky but could walk if they leaned on one another. Making sure I had Betsy’s gun in hand, and that she was still squirming on the ground, I took up the rear with Luke in the lead and the women between us. We tiptoed to the front door, each creak causing a grimace or whimper from the women. I suppressed my own terror. When we hit the front door, they literally ran for their lives down the driveway. We’d just saved two innocent people. It was a start.