Shots Fired
2:09 p.m.
SWAT moved across the front yard, as smooth as oiled silk. Sara's car was sitting abandoned across the street and someone had kicked in the front door of the Daniel's home. The team, lead by Leutinant Johnson, entered the home, swiveling around, clearing each room as they went. They were modern day warriors in black Kevlar.
Jim Brass and Sofia Curtis followed them in, service weapons tensely gripped and held out in front of them. Both of them, Jim especially, knew how little the vests really protected.
Sofia's heart beat a tattoo into her ribcage. Adrenaline overrode fear and pushed her forward, following the SWAT team as they moved through the house. She could see nothing there that would signify Sara's presence. All the doors were already open, but there was no sign of life anywhere.
Gil had his hand on her shoulder, somewhere between supporting her, and holding her back. She could only stare as the SWAT team, followed by the detectives, went in. They all stood there, waiting for some kind of sign. All Catherine could think of was those little girls. Little girls just like Lindsey...who had never made it out of that house alive. A sob caught in her throat. Her hand slid into her pocket and found the simple card she'd been given earlier.
Hours Before
Catherine had been standing in the lobby, still shell-shocked. She had not gone to the press confrence, she could barely function, she couldn't go before the press and talk about her baby being missing. She damned the killer, she damned Sara, but most of all, she damned herself. She was standing there, looking out the windows, doing nothing. Letting the precious minutes slip by where, somewhere, her daughter was in mortal peril.
A hand descended on her shoulder. She jumped and turned around. She was met with the pale and shadowed face of Carrol Winters. She offered a weak smile. "I'm sorry to hear about your daughter, Miss Willows." Catherine choked back a sob. "Thank you." Carrol pulled her into a hug and pressed something into her hand. When they broke apart, Catherine looked at it. It was a small, very expensive business card. The heavy calligraphy read: Never Forget. On the back there was a vaguely familiar address. She looked at Carrol. "I don't understand." The woman shrugged, "And God knows I hope you never will...but if your daughter isn't found...well, I would have never made it without the group's support.
Catherine didn't want a therapy group, she didn't want to be just another face in a roomful of women who'd lost their children. She wanted her daughter alive, well and in her arms.
2:10 p.m.
The calls of "Clear" sounded from each room. Sweat trickled down Sofia's back. Where were they? The professionally decorated house was devoid of life. Sofia's stomach acid soured and churned inside of her, making her sick. Then she heard them.
The gunshots. Calls of "SHOTS FIRED!" echoed through the home. Sofia suddenly knew, she knew it as well as she knew her own name. "THEY'RE IN THE BASEMENT!" She started to run down the hall, but she was forcibly grabbed by the back of her vest and shoved against the wall. She met the intense stare of Kara Johnson. "Get a hold of yourself, Curtis." That being said, Kara moved down the rest of the hall and kicked the basement door, the only closed door in the house, open.
"LVPD!" They moved down the stairs, both ready for anything...anything but the scene that met their eyes.
The sound of gunshots startled Catherine out of her thoughts. "LINDSEY!" She tore away from Gil. Nothing would keep her from her baby now.