DISCLAIMER
Not mine. Everything belongs to Fox Network and Stephen J. Cannell. Well, except for Brock Harding. He's mine.
Tom barely heard anything else. His mind had just reverted back to the past.
"Let him go, Harding!" a voice shouted.
"Drop your guns, cops!" a second voice exclaimed.
"Harding! Let him go!" a third voice chimed in.
"Drop your guns or I do the kid!" the second voice warned.
"Harding!" the two voice chorused.
"Drop 'em!" Harding shouted.
"Hanson? Hanson!" Tom shook his head.
"You okay?" Judy asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Tom said.
"Are you sure?" Judy queried.
"Oh, yeah," Tom assured. "Listen, uhI gottaexcuse me," he stammered. He went up the stairs to the second floor. Once there, he raked his hair with his fingers. He couldn't believe it. Brock Harding was out? His eyes became pained and he unconsciously rubbed his hand across his throat.
