Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
He held the door open while we filed in, quickly yet quietly. We followed Taylor up the stairs, J.P. right behind him, and me right behind J.P.
I didn’t know the address; I didn’t know what door to look for. But Taylor didn’t need any help. Without wasting a step, he led us down the corridor to the last door on the left.
He motioned for us to come in closer. Once we were in place, he knocked.
I put my ear to the door. I heard something, movement from inside. I nodded to Taylor. He knocked again.
It was unmistakable: the sound of feet shuffling up to the door. They stopped; the door was not opened, and not another sound was made.
Taylor looked at me. I motioned to the door with a nod, balled my hands into fists and stuck out my chest. I was ready for whatever was on the other side of that door.
Taylor didn’t knock again like I expected him to. Instead, he spoke. “Michael, my name is Taylor. You need to open the door.”
Footsteps shuffled away from the door, and quickly.
Taylor looked at me then at the others. Axel put an index finger in the air, suggesting we give him a minute.
That was about all I was willing to give.
A moment later, the sound of footsteps came again from the other side of the door.
Taylor knocked, more forcefully this time. “Michael, we have to talk.”
“What do you want? I don’t know any Taylor.”
Taylor took a deep breath. I, and the rest of the squad, tensed up and flexed.
“Michael,” Taylor said calmly. “You’ve got three seconds to open the door.”
“And then what?”
“And then I’m coming in.”
We heard the familiar click of a lock.
The door cracked open. Michael peered out from between the crack.
Taylor kicked the door wide open.
He barged in. I followed close behind, and the rest of the squad close behind me.
Michael staggered back, one hand rubbed his head, the other held a butcher’s knife.
“What are you going to do with that knife, Michael?” Taylor said calmly.
I kept my eyes on Michael while I walked confidently past him through the entranceway toward a corridor.
“Hey!” Michael shouted. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Michael,” Taylor said. “You need to put down the knife before it ends up in your chest.”
I walked down the corridor. “Gwen.”
At the end of the corridor was one closed door and an open door off to the right. I passed through the threshold of the open door: a small living room; empty. “Gwen.”
I heard Taylor’s calm voice and Michael’s not calm voice, but I didn’t register what they were saying.
I tried the closed door: a bathroom; empty.
Back down the corridor there was a third door, closed, on my right. I tried it; locked.
I went back to the entryway where Santiago had Michael in a chokehold on the floor. I didn’t see the knife.
“Michael,” I said. “Where is she?”
His hands clutched Santiago’s thick forearm. His legs thrashed about.
I touched Santiago on the shoulder. “Ease up,” I said and I looked down at Michael. “He has something he wants to tell us.”
Santiago relaxed his hold, but he didn’t let go.
Michael gasped for breath then he muttered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How’d you get that bruise on your face?” barked Travis.
“I fell,” Michael said.
Santiago tightened his chokehold and lifted Michael off the floor. He slammed him into the door then against the wall then he let him go.
Michael staggered a bit. He rubbed his head and looked at us: all nine of us.
“Listen here, Michael,” said J.P. “You can tell us where she is and we’ll only break one of your arms.”
His shifty eyes darted back and forth, scanning each of our faces, scanning the corridor and the front door.
J.P. looked at Santiago and nodded. “OK, Santiago, break the left one.”
“Wait!” Michael put his hands up, palms out. “OK. OK. She’s in the car, in the garage.”
Santiago grabbed him and, with one swift motion, pulled his arm behind his back and dropped an elbow that ended with the unmistakable crack of bones.
Michael started a scream that Santiago stifled with a hand over his mouth.
Michael tried to crumple to the floor, but Santiago held him up.
“Your car keys,” said Santiago.
Travis was on him and rummaged through his pockets. He pulled out a set of keys. “Are these your car keys?”
Michael didn’t answer. Tears welled in his eyes.
“Where’s the garage, Michael?” said Travis.
No answer.
“Fuck it,” said Travis. He opened the door and he stepped out with Tristan and Taylor following close behind.
“Wait!” said Elijah.
He stepped cautiously into the corridor. He turned to us and put an index finger vertically to his lips.
Michael started to yell again, but Santiago clapped his hand tight over his mouth muffling any sound he was trying to make.
Elijah heard it then I heard it then all of us heard it; there were muffled sounds, muffled calls coming from somewhere down the corridor.