Page 95 of Target Acquired

“Okay, keep trying to get more info and we’ll see what we’re dealing with here.” He looked at Cowboy and the man nodded.

“Going for eyes,” Cowboy said. “I’ll let you know when it’s up.”

“No,” Kenzie said. “Let me do it. This place may be booby-trapped. You’re the explosives expert and you have the tools. You’re needed here.”

She met Cole’s gaze, and he gave a reluctant nod with a glance at Cowboy. “She’s right.” Then back to her. “Go.”

Kenzie broke off and exited the warehouse. Cole would be able to use his phone to see once the camera was in place, as would the ones in the command vehicle. Now she just had to find the right spot to put it.

And make sure she didn’t trip any explosives on her way to doing it. But, if the building had explosives inside . . .

“I need a dog out here,” she said. “I need to make sure there aren’t any explosives around the perimeter. It’s concrete, though, so I’m relatively sure I would spot something if it was there.”

“There’s no time,” Cole said. “Badami and Cross say the guy is escalating. It’s now or never, King.”

“Then I guess it’s now.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

She stepped with precision, putting one foot in front of the other, scanning the area. She didn’t have the level of explosives training that Cowboy did, but she had the basics they all had and could spot a wire or laser just as easily as the next person. She could have a robot come in, but that would take time. And she wasn’t sure the hostages had the time.

“Why are there only four workers inside?” she asked. “Where’s everyone else?”

“He let them go,” James said. “According to my source here, the four who are with him are Margaret Tomlinson, Garth Kittridge, Jenny Bowman, and Trixie Brown. Margaret is a supervisor who does a lot of firing. Garth is a new worker, only on the job for a few weeks. Jenny and Trixie walked out of the bathroom after the others were released from the building. Trixie saw the gunman and ran back to lock herself in the bathroom and called 911. He threatened to kill one of the other hostages if she didn’t come out, so she did, and that’s when the dispatcher lost contact. The other workers agree that if it’s not Charlie Matthews, he has some kind of connection with the place. Said everything felt personal.”

“Great,” she whispered. “Lots of anger then.”

“Loads.”

“What do we know about Charlie? Experience with explosives?”

“Yeah. Just learned he used to do demo for a construction company.”

“Fabulous.”

He went silent for a moment and she continued on, rounding the building. The window was just ahead on her left. She held the tiny camera and approached, eyes still looking for any kind of tripwire. Finally convinced there was nothing, she placed her back against the wall and raised the camera to the corner of the window. The blinds were pulled, but all she needed was a crack of an opening. Bit by bit, she twisted the camera near the edge of the bottom blind until she could see just inside the office on the screen of her phone.

“Second SWAT team is on the ground,” James said. “Sniper setting up position.”

“And we’ve got explosives in here,” Cole said. “Cowboy’s taken care of two. No idea how many more.”

“Get out of there,” James said, and Kenzie’s heart plummeted. They had to get the hostages. Her work phone pinged with a text from Tabitha Lewis. It had to be about her mother’s case. She ignored it but made a mental note to check it as soon as everything was under control here. She tilted the camera slightly and finally got a good look at the gunman.

“Guys, he’s got on a vest full of explosives. If he detonates it, no one in this building is walking away.”

She heard James sigh. “Thanks, King.”

“Hostages are side by side on the wall perpendicular to the window wall.”

“So, all together.”

“Yeah.” She screenshotted the picture on her phone and sent it to the team. Then she took another angle and another. “Who’s our sniper?”

“Gabe McClane,” a deep voice said. “Got my thermal scope on. If I can light him up, I can take him down that way.”

“He’s got a bomb strapped to his chest,” she said. “He’s sitting behind the desk. Rifle is laid out in front of him. His hands are resting on it and he’s staring at the phone on the desk. I don’t see a dead man’s switch. I’m guessing he can detonate the bomb with his phone or”—she zoomed in as close as possible and snapped a close-up of the explosive—“he has the switch attached to the device. I can’t tell. Hostages are sitting quietly. Their hands appear bound behind them. Oh wait. He’s moving. He’s standing and . . . he’s taking off the vest.”