Fatal Exchange (3 page)

E
mily watched Mason turn away and head for the parking lot. No matter what her sister believed regarding Mason’s involvement in their brother’s death, Emily had always seen him as capable and skilled. And until the day he died, Michael had trusted Mason with his life. Whether Mason had actually betrayed Michael before the explosion at the warehouse that had taken his life, none of them might ever know, but she’d never forgotten the expression she’d caught on his face as he’d helped carry the casket out of the chapel after Michael’s funeral. The haunting mixture of sadness, loss, even defeat had been clear. It was the same expression she’d seen on his face today.

But to Mason, this case was personal.

She headed for the main entrance and shivered despite the warm morning sun trying to penetrate the scattering of clouds overhead. The photos of Eduardo resurfaced in her mind. No one had been surprised when she opted for a future with a private academy instead of the police academy. And while the school with its manicured lawns and trimmed hedges was far from problem free, she’d much rather face off with a parent or student over a bad history grade than enter her sister’s world of cops and robbers. Today had pushed her past the edges of her comfort zone.

Inside the main entry of Dogwood Academy, she started down the long hall. The pale blue walls held neat rows of gray lockers, classroom doors, and dozens of smartly uniformed students. The sound of her boots, clicking against the tiled floor with every step she took, was barely audible above the low roar of the students chatting about their weekend and upcoming holiday plans as they waited for the last minute before rushing off to their homeroom class once the first warning bell rang.

Snippets of conversations fluttered around her, but her mind was elsewhere. Students blurred past as she tried to shake the unease seeping through her. She might not know Eduardo well, but she did know Rafael and how seriously he took his role as the older brother. He’d mentioned more than once that it was his responsibility to not only keep his family together but to keep Eduardo out of trouble.

Emily paused to pull a flyer off the bulletin board of last week’s senior debate she’d moderated. Nausea spread through her stomach. Whether or not Eduardo was guilty of dealing drugs didn’t matter to the kidnappers anymore. His life hung in the balance, and whatever the outcome, it was going to take Rafael a long time to shake the guilt that he hadn’t been able to stop this from happening in the first place.

She crumpled the flyer and tossed it into the trash. She was going to have to find a way to focus on the day ahead without obsessing over what was happening with Rafael and his brother. At least she now had Mason’s number. Even if she didn’t see Rafael, she could still call for an update.

“Aunt Emily?”

Emily paused beside the drinking fountain. “Morning, Tess.” She glanced at her niece, then at her watch. “It’ll take you a couple of minutes to get all the way to your class. Do I need to write you a pass?”

“I’ll hurry.” Tess sniffled. “Did you remember to bring my
English book? Mrs. Masters isn’t going to be happy if I forget it again.”

“No worries, it’s on my desk.” They started back down the hall at a quick pace toward her classroom, weaving their way through the sea of high school students. One day, she wanted two or three kids of her own, but in the meantime, being an aunt filled that maternal void. “How’s your cold?”

“I wanted to stay home, but Mom insisted I was fine.”

“She knows about your science exam?”

“Yes, but not how terrified I am to take it.” Tess’s frown deepened. “Mom and I got into a big fight this morning. It was all stupid stuff. She got mad. I got mad. I said things I shouldn’t’ve.”

“Over what?”

Tess dropped her gaze. “Jackson mainly.”

Emily stopped to face Tess, ignoring the slamming locker doors and rowdy voices around her. “I thought you were happy your mom was getting remarried.”

“I am . . . I was. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Last night, Mom and I were supposed to go out for dinner. Just the two of us.”

“And that didn’t happen?”

“She worked late, then Jackson called and needed to talk about his grandfather. He might have to put him in an old people’s home, or something.”

“So dinner got canceled.” Emily caught the hurt in Tess’s eyes. After three years of widowhood, her sister had finally found the perfect match. But even a second chance was made complicated when there was a teen involved.

Tess let out a deep sigh. “I know I shouldn’t feel so angry, and I know he makes my mom happy, but everything’s changing, and sometimes . . . sometimes I hate it. I wish things could go back the way they were with Mom and me. Is that crazy?”

“No.” Emily put her arm around Tess’s shoulder and started
walking again toward her classroom. “I know it’s been rough for you, losing your dad, but everything you’re feeling is normal. Jackson’s a good man, and I think he’ll make a great stepfather for you, but it’s going to take time. For all three of you.”

“That’s what my mom keeps saying. That it’s going to take time for all of us to adjust to being a family. I just . . . I miss my dad.”

Emily felt her own heart break. Her niece had been ten when her father died. She was old enough to remember holidays spent together, Braves games, and family meals around the dinner table. And she was old enough now to realize that while Jackson might make her mom happy, things were going to be different.

“Jackson’s not in your life to come between you and your mom. Give both of them time to find that balance.”

“I’m trying.”

Emily walked into her classroom with Tess still beside her. There were already a half-dozen students talking in the back of the room. Emily set the bag of brownies Grace had given her on her desk, picked up Tess’s forgotten English book, then turned back to her niece.

“Just remember that Jackson doesn’t want to take your dad’s place. That’s something he can’t and won’t ever do. Your dad will always be a part of who you are—not just his DNA, but everything he did. What Jackson can do is help fill that emptiness in your heart, both your mother’s and yours. He’ll be there to help you get your driver’s license, meet your date for senior prom, and one day . . . walk you down the aisle.”

“You’re not helping.” A blush crept across Tess’s face.

Emily nudged her shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Tess’s blush spread as she ducked her head and nodded. “I guess.”

Emily looked up as Rafael stepped through the doorway across the room, wearing his familiar green sweatshirt paired
with a ball cap. A sigh of relief swam through her. At least he was okay.

Emily turned back to Tess. “Let me go ahead and write you a pass. The warning bell’s about to ring.”

Emily pulled out her cell phone and brought up Mason’s number while she searched the top drawer of her desk for a pen to write the pass. He would be relieved to know Rafael was okay. He’d probably just got held up in traffic. She’d heard on the radio this morning that there had been an accident on the freeway that was slowing the morning commute.

Mason answered on the first ring.

“Mason, this is Emily. Rafael just showed up. If you’d like to speak to him—”

The warning bell rang, drowning out the wave of kids scurrying into the classroom at the last minute.

Emily signaled at Tess to wait a second, then called out Rafael’s name.

He hesitated before turning to face her. His normal smile was gone. His eyes red. He took a step backward and shut the door.

“Rafael, wait. I need to—”

Rafael pulled a gun out of his sweatshirt, crossed the room, then grabbed Tess’s arm. “I’m sorry, Miss Hunt, but I need you to give me your phone, then lock the door with your key.”

“Emily?” Mason’s voice sounded from the phone.

Emily fought to put Rafael’s demands into focus. The blank face, the gun, the demands . . . She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. Give me your phone and lock the door.”

She stumbled forward with the phone, still trying to take in the numbing reality of what was happening. Tess’s eyes were wide with horror. One of her students sobbed in the back of the room.

Emily fished for the key in her pocket, then glanced at the
phone. She had to let Mason know what was happening. “He’s got a gun.”

“Don’t move!” Rafael yelled as he let go of Tess and knocked the phone from Emily’s hand onto the tiled floor. He grabbed Tess’s arm again, his other hand still gripping the gun out in front of him. Emily forced her mind not to shut down in panic. The school’s—and her—priority was to keep the students safe.

Words like
lockdown
,
procedures
, and
minimizing the target
swam through her head. But in this situation, there was no place to hide from the shooter’s attention. No way to provide 911 with the information they would need to help the police neutralize the situation. Because the potential shooter was standing right in front of her.

R
afael
’
s
got
a
gun
?

Mason shouted Emily’s name into his phone, but the connection was already lost. He’d heard enough, though, to realize that a drug-related kidnapping had somehow twisted into a school hostage situation. He hurried down the hallway toward Avery’s office while redialing Emily’s number. It rang a half-dozen times before her voice mail clicked on.

Rafael . . .
what are you doing?

Mentally, he ran through their phone conversation this morning, struggling to figure out what he’d missed. Somewhere between telling him about the ransom demands and now, Rafael had decided to take things into his own hands.

Mason’s heart pounded at the ugly truth. He’d been here before. A no-win situation where you realize that no matter how hard you try, there is no way out. But while Rafael’s voice had sounded worried, Mason hadn’t gotten the impression he was desperate. So how had he gone from trying to save his brother to committing a felony? Panic, guilt, feelings of responsibility? At some point, something inside that boy had snapped and pushed him over the edge.

Mason dialed a second number and gave his call sign and location before explaining to the dispatcher what he knew. Gunman
at school, at least one weapon, Dogwood Academy, probable hostage situation . . .

A sick feeling flooded through him as he answered the dispatcher’s questions. No matter how things played out, it wasn’t going to end well for Rafael. And if the situation wasn’t contained quickly, Rafael might not be the only person caught in the crossfire.

Avery was still at her desk, going through paperwork, by the time he’d hung up with dispatch and entered her office out of breath.

“Did you find your friend?”

“Yes . . . I . . . ” Mason paused in the doorway. How did he tell her that he’d made a mistake in reading someone and her sister was now being held at gunpoint? If anything happened to Emily, he’d once again be the person to blame. But that wasn’t the issue here. Emily’s life—and the students in that room—were at stake.

“Mason.” Avery set her pen down. “What’s wrong?”

“When I spoke with Rafael this morning, I missed something.”

Her expression darkened. “What do you mean?”

“I thought Rafael wanted us to help him. He called me because he trusted me, but instead of letting the police handle things, he . . . he showed up at the school a few minutes ago with a gun.”

“You’re telling me he’s at my daughter’s school with a gun?” Avery shoved her chair back from her desk, knocking it against the back wall, and jumped up. “If there’s been a school shooting—”

“We don’t know that. I’ve called dispatch. By now officers are heading to the scene, and the school will have already initiated their emergency procedures.”

Mason watched Avery’s face pale. She dug her keys out of
the side pocket of her pinstriped blazer. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

“Rafael didn’t meet me at seven thirty like he promised.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So you went to the school?”

“Rafael told me he knew Emily. That she’d gone out of her way over the past few years to help him. I was hoping I could find him there. That she might have seen him this morning,”

“But he never showed up?”

“Not by the time I arrived, so I left and asked her to let me know if she heard from him. She called me just now, told me that he showed up for class. Then I heard her say he had a gun. He told her to lock the door. After that, we lost the connection.”

Avery grabbed her phone and started dialing.

“I’ve tried to call Emily back. She’s not answering her phone.”

“So either she’s still in the classroom and he’s holding students hostage, or he’s shooting up the school.”

Avery let the phone ring. Emily still wasn’t answering.

He knew her sister wasn’t the only person Avery was worrying about. He tried to choose his words carefully. “Is Tess in Emily’s classroom?”

“No.” Mason caught a sliver of relief in Avery’s eyes. “Emily teaches high school. Tess’s classes are in the middle school, which is located in a completely separate wing.”

“That’s good.”

Avery replaced the phone in her back pocket. “Give me a minute to brief my team, then I’ll meet you at the school.”

Mason nodded, then walked through the precinct bullpen where her team was working. No matter what he might think about Avery on a personal level, she and her team were good at what they did. Time in the marines had trained Carlos Dias in the art of interrogation. Tory Lambert might not look the part with her exotic model looks, but Mason had seen her work firsthand and knew that the computer geek and white-collar
crime expert was not only diligent but smart. Eight weeks ago, the captain had assigned Levi Griffin—a former marine—to Avery’s team, taking the place of her former partner who was killed in the line of duty. From what he’d heard, the detective had an exemplary record, including a stint in North Africa as a land mine disposal expert.

They worked beside a crime board where photos of the four murdered men in the Torres case were plastered across the top. James Torres. Ivan Cruz. Dante Ortiz. Adan Luna. Today they had to ensure Eduardo didn’t become number five.

Heading for the parking lot, he redialed Rafael’s number on the off chance he might answer. Still nothing. He was used to cases that fed on one’s adrenaline, but when they became personal, it always felt like an extra blow.

Mason’s phone rang as he unlocked his truck with the click of a button. If it were Rafael or Emily . . . He glanced at the caller ID, then hesitated.

Calvin.

He slid into the driver’s seat, his stress level rising another notch. Whatever his baby brother had to say, it wasn’t likely going to be good news.

“Calvin?”

“Hey, bro. Just got your message. Please don’t tell me you’re really not coming.”

“I can’t. Not now anyway.” He’d used work as an excuse for years, but this time was legitimate. “I know it’s bad timing, but it’s a hostage situation and I can’t just walk away.”

“You might have to. I just finished talking to the doctor about Dad.” Calvin’s voice cracked. “Hospice is coming to the house this afternoon. They’re only giving him a few more days.”

Mason eased into the eastbound traffic, searching for the right response. Calvin would never completely understand why he wasn’t ready to reenter the door their father had firmly closed so
many years ago. His brother had been too young to remember the drunken brawls along with the seizures, hallucinations, and severe depression Mason had been forced to cope with. It had changed their relationship from father and son to Mason being the caregiver. Continuing the charade of having a relationship with the man he’d eventually rescued his brothers from had long ceased to be a priority.

But if nothing else, he needed to be there for Calvin and Craig.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I promise.”

Because he did care. But facing a man who had walked out of his life years ago and was suddenly acting on his deathbed as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them tore at his gut and left him feeling vulnerable.

Mason’s stomach clenched as he hung up.

He punched in Rafael’s number again. He needed to focus on the crisis at hand and deal with his father later. His father might be dying, but it was too late to develop the relationship he’d once craved. As for Rafael, he knew how hostage situations worked. The captain wouldn’t hesitate to give the order to take him out if given the opportunity. Both situations he faced were losing battles.

The room spun in slow motion. Emily watched Rafael hold the gun against Tess’s temple and dug for courage to take control of her emotions. Her niece stood frozen in front of him, her head tilted back, eyes wide in terror. No matter what he did, she felt like she was gambling with her niece’s life.

Emily took a deep breath, looking from Tess to Rafael. “Tess, I want you to do exactly what he says. Rafael, I know about your brother. I know you’re afraid, but this isn’t the way to fix things. Let go of Tess. She’s no threat to you. She’s not going anywhere.”

Rafael’s phone started ringing again. Mason was probably calling, wondering why they’d lost the connection. Emily pressed her palm against her chest as fear closed in, threatening to strangle her. Saying the wrong thing could push Rafael over the edge, but not saying anything didn’t seem to be an option. As soon as she’d locked the door, Rafael had ordered one of the students to close the blinds. Which meant they couldn’t see what was going on outside the school.

God, I know you
’re here, but I don’t know what to do
. Please . . . please resolve this before someone gets hurt . . . or worse
.

“You’re going to have to answer the phone eventually,” she continued. “They’re going to want to know your demands.”

He stared at her for a few seconds. “I’ll talk to them when I’m ready.” Rafael turned toward the other students, forcing Tess to move with him. “For now, I want all of you to move to the back of the room and be quiet.”

Emily hesitated. Like Mason, she too had missed something. Rafael had always been her prize pupil. One she thought she knew. But now . . . His reaction didn’t make sense.

“I spoke with Mason Taylor this morning,” she began. “He was looking for you. Said you hadn’t shown up for your meeting with him.”

“Mr. Taylor can’t help me. Now move to the back of the room and sit down. All of you.”

He swung the gun upward until it was pointing at Emily, then let Tess join the other students. Besides the sound of someone whimpering in the back of the room, the only thing Emily could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears.

Emily walked slowly in front of Rafael to where the students sat, fighting to keep her mind clear. A few months ago, all the teachers had been required to take a class on the school’s emergency procedures, including a discussion of gunman scenarios.

Evaluate the situation, determine how many are involved,
what kinds of weapons, don’t try to play the
role of hero, try to call for help, and most
of all, remain calm . . .

Calm? Right.

She’d memorized the school’s emergency procedures. An all-school lockdown would now be in effect. Entrances would be sealed, no one allowed outside the classrooms until the “All Clear” was announced. Classroom doors would be locked, lights turned off, blinds and windows shut. Students and staff would sit against an interior wall. Status cards placed in the windows. Green for okay. Red for emergency assistance needed.

Emily tried to slow her breathing. It had been easy going over a scenario in a classroom with a PowerPoint lesson, catered barbecue on the back table, and a room full of her colleagues. Dealing with a gun pointed at her niece—and a dozen of her students—changed everything.

The problem was, she knew more about the American Revolution and the Italian Renaissance than how to negotiate a hostage situation. But until the police were able to take over, negotiating with Rafael might end up being their only way out. She glanced around her orderly classroom, searching for the right words. Desks and chairs were lined up in neat rows the way she liked it. Enlarged photos depicting scenes from ancient Greece to current events in the Middle East hung on the wall above history books she’d collected over the past few years. But details of the room weren’t what she saw at the moment.

Instead, she saw Tess, sharing a seat in the back with one of her senior girls, Izzie Johnson, who had a protective arm around her younger niece. Philip Marx, a basketball player, sat beside them, his jaw tense. Amie Wright, sobbing quietly, sat to his left. She’d been through more than her fair share of trauma over the past few months after losing her best friend in a car accident. Shani Wells, Kevin Hunter, Lexi Valentine . . . She’d known some of them for years.

She lifted up another short prayer, then turned back to Rafael. “Mason told me about your brother, Rafael. He told me that they grabbed him from your house and are holding him for ransom. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I am too, but being sorry won’t keep him alive.”

Emily tried to read his expression. He looked in control, but also clearly scared. As if he were fighting with his emotions. Which might be good. If he was hesitant at all about what he was doing, she might be able to gain the advantage and convince him to stand down. ”Tell me what you want, Rafael.”

“It’s simple. They have my brother. If I don’t get them what they want, they’re going to kill him.”

“Who are they?”

He tugged on the bill of his baseball cap. “Someone working with the Mexican cartel or maybe a local gang . . . Does it really matter? They’ve made their demands, and now I’m going to make mine.”

Emily forced herself to keep her voice calm. “Mason mentioned you thought it was a case of mistaken identity.”

“I know my brother. He might not be perfect, but he’s not in debt to some drug lord. Which means there’s no hidden stash of cash laying around my house.”