Alicia shouted, “Shot fired!”
Tyler dropped lower beside the sofa, one hand instinctively moving to protect the injured woman from any line of fire that might come down the stairs.
The woman’s eyes went wide.
Not surprised.
Recognizing.
She grabbed weakly at Tyler’s sleeve with bloody fingers.
“Closet,” she whispered.
Tyler leaned close, barely hearing over the ringing in his ears.
“What?”
“Closet,” she breathed again. “My son.”
Then her eyes rolled back.
Chapter 2: The woman on the sofa
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Three seconds can feel like a whole investigation when a shot has just gone off above you and a dying woman has said the word son.
Tyler looked from the woman to the staircase.
Alicia had taken cover near the hallway wall, angled toward the stairs, weapon drawn but controlled. Her face had changed. Not panic. Focus. The kind of focus that comes when the call has become bigger than the room you are standing in.
“Dispatch,” Alicia said into her shoulder mic, voice hard. “Shot fired inside the residence. We have one female victim downstairs, critical condition. Possible child upstairs. Suspect may be upstairs. Expedite backup. Expedite EMS, stage until secured.”
Tyler pressed two fingers to the woman’s neck.
Pulse.
Weak.
Too weak.
He grabbed gauze from his trauma kit and pressed it against her wound. It was not enough, but in the first moments of a scene, enough is not always available. You do what buys seconds, then hope seconds become minutes.
“Stay with me,” he said. “Stay with me. What’s your name?”
Her eyelids fluttered.
“Emma,” she whispered.
“Emma what?”
“Brooks.”
“Emma, listen to me. We’re going to get your son. What’s his name?”
Her lips trembled.
“Noah.”
“How old is Noah?”
Her voice faded.
“Five.”
Alicia looked back at Tyler for half a second.
A five-year-old child upstairs.
A gunshot upstairs.
A possible suspect upstairs.
A critically injured mother downstairs.
The house had become a trap full of unknowns.
Tyler could hear sirens now, faint in the distance. Still too far.
Above them, something moved again. A dragging sound. Then a thump. Then silence.
Alicia called out, “Police! If you can hear me upstairs, come to the top of the stairs with empty hands!”
No response.
Tyler kept pressure on Emma’s wound.
“Emma, who’s upstairs?”
Her face tightened with pain.
“He… came back.”
“Who came back?”
Her eyes moved toward the ceiling.
“Derek.”
Tyler filed the name instantly.
Derek.
“Is Derek armed?”
Emma’s lips barely moved.
“He took… mine.”
Tyler glanced toward the handgun on the floor.
This was hers?
Or that was what she believed?
“Emma, did Derek shoot you?”
A tear slid down her temple into her hair.
She tried to nod.
Then she whispered, “Don’t let him take Noah.”
After that, she lost consciousness again.
The first backup unit arrived less than a minute later, though it felt far longer. Officers Brennan and Lee entered through the broken doorway, took in the scene quickly, and moved to support Alicia near the stairs. Another unit began securing the perimeter outside. EMS was staged a block away, waiting until officers could say the house was safe enough to enter.
But safe was not a word that belonged to this house yet.
Tyler could not leave Emma.
Alicia could not ignore Noah.
That was the cruelty of the moment. The house demanded two rescues at once.
“Tyler,” Alicia said quietly, “I’m going up.”
He looked at her.
She did not say it dramatically. There was no time for that. She simply stated the decision the situation had already made. A child might be upstairs. A suspect might be upstairs. A shot had just been fired. Waiting could cost Noah his life.
“Take Brennan,” Tyler said.
Alicia nodded.
Officer Brennan moved behind her. Officer Lee remained at the base of the stairs, covering upward.
Alicia looked once toward Emma on the sofa.
Then she started up.
Step by step.