There was a deafening wumf above his head. Flames spread across the doorframe. Mason seized his slim opportunity of dashing inside, heading up to the second floor. He paused only briefly to grab his trench coat from the stairs, then used it as a fire shield as he searched for room 203. On the bright side, it was nearby. But flames blocked his path.

  “Damn it!” he screamed, and smoke filled his lungs. He gagged and sputtered as time ran short. He knew what he had to do—it was actually doing it that made him hesitate. At that moment, Mason’s imagination took him back to a time so recently, when it was Amy and her friend in a fire. How desperately he had tried to save them. He had saved them, right up until the moment when Amy…

  No. He couldn’t let another girl die. Mason took a running jump over the flames. The girl was back up against the wall, burying her face in her hands. She couldn’t have been older than seven or eight, and Mason’s heart weakened. He rushed forward and grabbed her, picking her up in both arms. She began to fight as fear took control of her, but Mason couldn’t let her stay—couldn’t let her die, too.

  Another running jump, and Mason was back outside the room. Embers nipped at his shoes, catching fire. The heat was intense and so real, but he wouldn’t let it stop him. He ran down the stairs, carrying little Hanna as beams collapsed behind him, crashing through the stairs. A giant gust of flames whooshed out in every direction, scorching Mason’s hands—his coat, which was now wrapped around the young girl.

  Finally, he made it outside. The coughing came on him like a thunderstorm, the heat still blazing on his back. Mason dropped to his knees, unable to get back up. It was two firefighters that came this time. One grabbed Hanna and ran back to safety, while the other reached for Mason’s arm to help him up off the ground. By then, Mason could hardly see.

  His whole world went pitch-black.

  SEVENTY-ONE

  An hour had passed. The fire was out, but the devastation it brought was still very much present. Mason sat on the back step of the ambulance, holding a mask to his face as it provided an easy source of oxygen. The coughing had subsided, his shoes extinguished, but the heavy, stilted breathing remained. He was just glad the kids were safe.

  The hotel was nothing but a tar-black mess of ash and burned timber now. The roof had collapsed before the fire was put out, and now the focus of the emergency services was to keep nervous onlookers at bay. The FBI had left shortly after Mason’s foolish savior act. That was a shame, as he had some questions he wanted answered.

  At long last, like a chime from heaven, he heard his name from nearby. Mason turned his head and saw Diane and MJ running toward him. He could have wept then, watching his young boy desperately run into his arms. Diane was close behind him in tears, and she also wrapped her arms around Mason.

  “I heard on the news,” she said and then ended the embrace suddenly. “Are you okay? That was so stupid. So brave, but so, so stupid. What were you thinking?”

  Mason gave her a half-smile, still hugging MJ. They rocked back and forth, and he savored every second of it. There might never be another time when Diane was this pleased to see him, but he would walk through a thousand fires just to see it one more time.

  “They needed help,” he said.

  “So you just ran right into the fire?”

  Mason shrugged, and Diane swept into his arms again. He felt her shoulders bob up and down as she cried onto the shoulder of his blackened coat. They all stayed there, enjoying each other’s safety and existence like the old days had come back—like all the complications of their day-to-day lives had suddenly vanished. It was a memorable moment for him, as this was the one time he would get to hold her without his lifestyle being a factor. It was just him and them, the love between them fierce and undeniable.

  But there was one other person he longed to see. Mason hated to look a gift horse in the mouth, but there wasn’t much he wouldn’t give to see Evie arrive on the scene. It had been a while since her disappearance, and now he was starting to think the worst. After all, he had his family held in his arms, while one had already suffered the repercussions of his job.

  Mason couldn’t comprehend losing another.

  SEVENTY-TWO

  Robert Green got up from the floor, fury steeling through his body as he saw his attacker leaping out the front door. His head felt like it was on fire, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. Not while his next victim was so close to escape.

  He scrambled up off the floor and grabbed the pistol from beside the screens. He checked it was loaded as he ran, quickly seeing Evie Black dash into the trees. He fired a poorly aimed shot—more of a warning shot, really—that tore the bark off a tree with a whistling sound.

  “Stay right there, you little bitch!” he called.

  But Evie didn’t stop. Green only got a glimpse of her clothing as she vanished amid the trees. He took after her, fully aware that if she got free, then his final secret hideout would be revealed to the cops, the FBI, and God only knew who else.

  That simply wasn’t an option.

  Green followed her, breaking into a sweat of his own. He leapt over fallen branches, tore through the thick brush as stray twigs scratched at his bare knees. Unbearable heat washed over him at the prospect of being caught, but then something finally went his way.

  He saw Evie, and she had stopped.

  It was best he pretended not to have seen her. The dumbass journalist was cowering behind a thick tree stump. Green wandered in that general direction until he got closer. So close that he could hear her pathetic breath wheezing from her pathetic mouth, even over the sound of running water, which he knew was a deep current of rushing stream. He continued like that until he was so close he couldn’t miss. Green had never been a great shot with these things, having barely passing the exams, and that had earned him humiliation more than once.

  This time, however, he would find his target.

  “Peekaboo,” he said, turning toward her.

  Nothing had ever looked so great as the shock on her face. Her quivering lower lip widened her mouth as she stumbled backward. She fell onto her ass and clawed through scratching twigs and leaves, blood glistening in the early morning light that filtered between the trees. Green took aim with his gun. Evie found her feet and tried to run, but by then it was too late. The pistol was aimed right at her head… and he took the shot.

  Evie hit the ground running. Her body contorted as she fell. There was a heavy splash, and Green ran toward her lifeless body just in time to see the current take her away. He could follow her now—recover her body and bury it somewhere in the woods—but right then he had a far better idea. One he could remember fondly for years to come.

  Evie Black’s body would set a great example.

  SEVENTY-THREE

  Things were getting too close for comfort now. Although he was exhausted and his body was about ready to give up, he spent the rest of the morning hitting up the names on the list. For once, most of them were willing to listen to what he had to say, but that didn’t mean there was no room for jackasses. Mason got it though—he probably wouldn’t have listened to a red-eyed private investigator, either.

  Around lunchtime, when he was nearing the end of the list, he took a seat in Union Square. There was one man left on the list who was working in a nearby hotel, and Mason had every intention of getting to him. But something else weighed on his mind, and if he didn’t talk himself into finding out now, he likely never would. He’d never felt like such a coward.

  Holding the phone in a shaking hand, Mason dialed Evie’s number and pressed the phone to his ear. He kept his eyes shut the entire time, waiting for the deadly sound of the voicemail.

  As he’d feared, it came without ringing.

  Where the hell are you, sis?

  He stowed the phone away and left to finish his rounds, praying the Educator didn’t have her. That he wasn’t going to use her as a choice like others had done before. Mason had no idea how he could react to another situation like that.

  But it wouldn’t be good.

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  The list was finally finished, and there was still no sign of Evie. Mason used the opportunity to head home and catch some sleep. The day had taken such a toll on him, what with rushing into a burning hotel and then chasing it up with a long day of warning someone he’d never met that he was on some kind of death list.

  One hour was all he got. He’d fallen asleep almost immediately, but his dreams were horrific and vivid. In that weird, nonsensical world, Amy and Evie were best friends again. Just like they were years ago. They were at the top of Eiffel Tower, a place Mason had once promised Amy she would see one day. Wracked with grief and guilt, he stepped out to the observation deck to see what they were doing up there.

  But they turned their backs on him.

  “Guys?” Mason said and then noticed the deck was otherwise empty.

  When he turned back around to find his sister and daughter, they were climbing over the railing. They laughed while they did it. Mason’s heart dropped twenty floors as Evie leapt from the rail and plummeted toward the ground below. He called out to her, but it did no good. Amy locked eyes with him then, and Mason couldn’t quite force out the words. He pleaded with his eyes instead. Amy only laughed at him and stepped off the tower.

  Mason awoke a second later, drenched in sweat while his head pounded. He took a shower, dressed, made a coffee to go, and then headed for the front door.

  He never expected to be greeted by them.

  A great number of reporters stood on his front lawn. Mason counted six before he gave up, his attention stolen by the microphone shoved in front of his face. Cameras snapped and their flashes blinded him, even in broad daylight. The questions came at him in a flurry, shooting his blood pressure through the roof.

  “Mr. Black, is it true there’s some kind of hit list?”

  “What do you say to the conspiracy theory that you’re working with the Educator?”

  “Is your sister back in town? Does she work within your company?”

  No, no, and no was all he wanted to say. It was easier than the truth—that there was a list, that he had come toe-to-toe with the Educator and almost lost everything in the process. And although his sister was back in town, she was missing, and not a single soul had even set foot in his company’s office for a number of days.

  “You’re blocking my path” was what he went with.

  He locked the door then, banging it shut, and headed through the small gap presented to him in the crowd. More questions were fired his way, but he paid no attention. All he wanted was to get to his car without throwing his steaming coffee into someone’s face. He wasn’t even sure where he was going. He just needed air. There was no way he could spend the day sitting around all of Evie’s possessions, wondering what the hell had happened to her.

  But then something caught his ear.

  “What do you make of the hostage situation, Mr. Black?”

  Mason stopped at the end of his path, turning to face the fat, greasy-looking man who had asked the question. Everyone else fell silent, waiting to record his next words.

  “What hostage situation?”

  “The one at Three-Leaf Orphanage.”

  It clicked immediately. Mason ran to his car, dove into the driver seat, and turned on the radio. Every channel he desperately scanned through gave the same report, only in different words and voices. But the message was the same, and Mason listened impatiently as he learned of the latest psychotic act from Robert Green. Of the orphanage he’d taken over and was threatening to blow. When he was done listening, Mason couldn’t start the car fast enough before racing toward the orphanage like his life depended on it.

  Well, not his life.

  Please don’t hurt any children, he thought.

  Then stepped on the gas.

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  Evie blinked in and out of consciousness, her head ablaze with the damage ripped through her skull. It felt like she had died twice, both equally painful but not until after the initial shock.

  This was the third time she had awoken. The first time, she had come to on the shore of a wide stream. Her body was battered and bruised, shivering uncontrollably while running water lapped at her left side. She didn’t know what had happened before that moment, but she knew she had to get out of there—to crawl out of the water and into the woods.

  This escape attempt was more painful. She had passed out shortly after leaving the water, with nothing but the moonlight to guide her. Behind her was the stream and a vast array of trees. In front of her were more trees, but at least she didn’t have to drag herself through water to get there. Although her head felt like it was burning, she crawled into the trees, desperately fighting her body’s response to just give up.

  She’d blacked out again.

  Now, Evie awoke to the sounds of birds chirping. There was an overpowering smell of morning dew. A thin fog spread around her, concealing her from any would-be followers but not impeding her own vision. Just what had happened last night?

  She touched her hand to her head, and the memories blinked back to her. Evie had given it her all to escape from Robert Green. He had shot her, and the bullet had grazed her. She had fallen then, stumbling under the intense pain. When she’d fallen, her head hit a rock, and that was it—all she could remember until now.

  Now, when her one goal was clear.

  Evie fought the undying urge to just give up. Her body needed food, water, and sleep. Real sleep, in a comfortable bed, with six thick pillows and complete darkness. Of course, she could find darkness right now if she wanted. All she had to do was give up.

  “No,” she whimpered with a weak breath.

  There was no dying today.

  It took everything she had for Evie to move on. She clawed her way to the nearest tree, which she used for balance. Her fingers scratched against the wet, softened bark while she forced herself to her feet. When she made it at last, she started walking. Two stumbling steps, then a short break. Two more, and then an even longer break. She fell twice, using her elbows to cushion the fall and cursing as she hit the ground.

  Imagine Amy needs you, she told herself. Pretend she’s waiting for you to come and say goodbye. She needs you at her grave. She needs you to be completely honest, no matter how hard it might seem. No matter what awful truth you uncover.

  Evie couldn’t give up. Not now. If she could only make her way toward someone—anyone except Green—this wouldn’t be the end of her story. And this was her story. No blazing agony in her head or tumble into water got to decide how it ended for her. She was in charge, just as she’d always liked it.

  With that thought, she climbed to her feet and tried again.

  SEVENTY-SIX

  Mason wasn’t at all surprised to see the chaos unfolding at the orphanage. He had come to see too many police cars lately, and the ones lying behind yet another police barricade were only different in one way: they kept their distance from the building.

  The orphanage itself looked perfectly normal, if not for the mass of civilians gathering behind the barricade. It was a wide, three-story building made of brick. It stood alone at the back of a square. The other buildings were residential, which made this place fit right in. Mason imagined the children who were inside, each and every one of them petrified without a mother or father to turn to for support.

  A flicker of Amy’s innocent face flashed in his memory. A dark cloud passed overhead, or maybe it just felt that way. Mason shook it off and headed for the barricade, although he got the idea his PI badge wouldn’t get him very far here. That was fair enough, he supposed. All he wanted to do was get the lay of the land.

  There were seven police cars in total, and two unmarked vehicles. At first Mason wondered who they belonged to, but he wasn’t shocked to see Special Agent Hulls talking with the police, their faces tight with stress.

  It’s a wonder they get anything done, Mason thought as he gazed up at the building. Somewhere inside, Robert Green was seizing control of the place. There were children inside, and Amy’s face threatened to appear to him once again. It pained him to think anyone else would get hurt because of this man. This man who used to serve his country in the Bureau.

  Suddenly, a hand clamped on his shoulder. Mason jolted, turned, and found his hand reaching for his gun. But the face looking back at him didn’t offer hostility. For once, this man was looking at him with kindness and understanding. That was all he needed.

  For now.

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  “We need to talk,” Bill yelled over the chaotic noise.

  Mason nodded, actually in full agreement with him for the first time in months. He followed Bill along the barricade until they were on the sidewalk in the corner of the square. It was quieter here, but only enough to hear each other talk. The square was still alive with panic and stress; that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

  “Why are you here?” Bill asked.

  “I’m involved,” Mason told him. “You can try to make me leave all you want. I don’t have the energy to fight you on this, but I will if I have to. So just lay off, will you?”

  Bill raised his palms. A sign of surrender. “I’m not your boss,” he said. “Besides, I know better than to keep you away from your case. But this situation… it’s bad, pal. Real bad. According to the Educator, there are twenty-one kids and four employees inside.”

  “Please don’t call him that,” Mason said.

  “Call him what?”

  “The Educator. Every one of these creeps has some stupid nickname. I’m tired of it.”

  “Well then, Robert Green is in there with the place set to blow. That’s all we know so far. He hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with his demands, so I guess we’re just holding out for that. The FBI have taken over here, so I can’t find out until they want me to.”

 

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