Chapter 22 - FORTY-TWO SECONDS
Emily picked up Ambrose’s phone.
“Password.”
Ambrose clung to the roof railing with one arm.
Blood spread across his side where Marcus’s bullet had struck.
He laughed through clenched teeth.
“Pull me up.”
“Password.”
“Emily,” Marcus said, “give me the phone.”
“No.”
Thirty-four seconds.
Matthew lay ten feet away with a hand pressed against his shoulder.
He was conscious.
“Emily,” he said.
She looked at him.
“Give Marcus the phone.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he’ll try to bypass it.”
“I am literally paid for that,” Marcus said.
“Not in thirty seconds.”
She looked at Ambrose.
“Password.”
“Help me.”
“Twenty-seven seconds.”
“Emily.”
She crouched near the edge.
“I won’t let you fall.”
Ambrose stared at her.
She meant it.
That surprised both of them.
“But I will let you hang there until your arm tears apart.”
His face twisted.
“7294.”
Emily entered it.
Wrong.
Twenty seconds.
“You lied.”
Ambrose laughed.
Matthew tried to sit up.
“Birth date.”
Emily looked at him.
“What?”
“People like him use dates they think nobody knows.”
Ambrose’s expression changed.
Emily searched her memory.
Graham Ambrose.
Born July 2, 1958.
She entered 7258.
Unlocked.
Nine seconds.
The check-in screen displayed a green button.
Emily hit it.
TIMER RESET: 10:00.
She exhaled.
Marcus took the phone.
“Now can the professional touch it?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
Emily moved to Matthew.
Blood had soaked his jacket.
Her hands shook as she knelt.
“Is it bad?”
He looked at the wound.
“Depends on how attached I am to the shirt.”
“Matthew.”
“Through-and-through, I think.”
“You think?”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“Where is Lena?”
“Not on the roof.”
That stupid answer almost made her cry.
She pressed both hands over the wound.
He winced.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for pressure.”
Ambrose groaned near the edge.
Two officers pulled him up and handcuffed him.
He looked at Emily with naked hatred now.
No charm left.
Good.
Marcus knelt beside them with the phone.
“I found the check-in app.”
“Can you locate the receiver?” Emily asked.
“Trying.”
“Ten minutes.”
“I know.”
Matthew looked at her hands pressed against his shoulder.
“You should go with Marcus.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
He gave a weak smile.
“You really enjoy that word.”
“Shut up.”
Paramedics reached the roof.
They took over.
Emily’s hands were suddenly empty and covered in blood.
Matthew was placed on a stretcher.
As they carried him toward the stairs, he caught Emily’s wrist lightly.
She froze.
He released it immediately.
“Sorry.”
She looked at him.
“You can do that one.”
He nodded.
Then he was gone.
Marcus found the receiver location three minutes later.
A shipping yard four miles east.
Blue building.
Dock 14.
State police moved.
Emily insisted on going.
Rachel arrived and swore when she saw the blood on Emily’s hands.
“It’s Matthew’s.”
“That was not comforting.”
“Sorry.”
They reached Dock 14 with two minutes left before the next check-in.
Marcus hit the button from Ambrose’s phone as the tactical team breached.
Inside, they found Diane tied to a chair.
Alive.
A pressure sensor had been fixed beneath one leg of the chair and connected to a canister of gasoline and an electrical igniter.
If she stood without disarming it, the room would burn.
Diane saw Emily through the doorway.
Her face collapsed.
“Don’t come in.”
Emily stopped.
A bomb technician moved past her.
Diane whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Not now.
Not that word.
The technician worked for seven minutes.
Emily stood outside counting every breath.
Finally he lifted one hand.
“Clear.”
Diane was untied.
She tried to stand.
Her legs failed.
Emily moved forward instinctively.
Then stopped.
A paramedic caught Diane instead.
Their eyes met.
Diane saw the hesitation.
Something in her face broke.
Emily could not fix it.
At the hospital, Matthew was taken into surgery to repair a torn muscle and damaged artery.
The bullet had missed bone.
His prognosis was good.
Emily sat in the waiting room wearing dried blood and hospital socks.
Her donated sneakers had finally been ruined.
Rachel brought her coffee.
Emily stared at it.
“I hate coffee.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“I forgot.”
Emily laughed weakly.
Rachel sat beside her.
At 3:10 a.m., Marcus entered holding Ambrose’s recovered hard drive.
“We cracked the encrypted folder.”
Emily looked up.
“What’s in it?”
“Payments, videos, judge contacts, sheriff contacts.”
“Enough?”
“To bury Ambrose financially and probably criminally.”
Emily exhaled.
Marcus did not look relieved.
“What?”
“There’s another folder.”
“Whose?”
He handed her the tablet.
The label read CARTER, MATTHEW.
Inside were hundreds of files.
The newest one was dated three days earlier.
Emily opened it.
It was a draft purchase agreement for Hale Systems.
The buyer was Carter Meridian.
The purchase price was far below market value.
And on the final page was a contingency clause.
If Emily Hale was declared incapacitated, Matthew Carter’s company would acquire her voting shares through a prearranged option.
May you like
Emily stared at the signature line.
Matthew had signed it two weeks ago.
