Brantley nodded. He was about to head over to the barn when his cell phone rang. He snatched it from his belt, glanced at the screen. He saw that it was Detective Mathis and prepared himself for an ass chewing when he answered with a barked, “Walker.”
“We’ve got a situation.”
“What’s that?” he asked, stepping out the back door.
“We found Nancy Wright.”
“Being that was our goal, I would’ve thought it was a good thing,” he said, taking the steps down the back porch.
“It would be, but she’s taken a couple of hostages.”
Brantley pulled up short. “Wait. What? Where is she?”
“At the Hawkins’s residence.”
“Why’re you callin’ me? Don’t you have a negotiator who can handle this sort of thing?”
“We do, but I figured you’d like to know since Charlotte Miller is your employee.”
Brantley glanced at the driveway to see if her car was there. It wasn’t.
“Charlie? What does she have to do with this?”
“She’s a hostage, Walker.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Considering she’s the one who called, I think I’m positive it’s her.”
“What the fuck?” Brantley took off toward the barn at a run. “Tell me everything.”
Five minutes later, Brantley was behind the wheel, Reese riding shotgun and Trey in the backseat. Behind them, Evan, Slade, Baz, and Luca were in Evan’s Ford Expedition. The rest stayed back at the barn to assist on their end if possible, with JJ at the helm.
“Does anyone know why the fuck Charlie went to Annie’s house alone?” Brantley barked as he pressed his foot to the floor, heading for the toll road that would deliver them to Lakeway.
“She didn’t say anything to me,” Reese said firmly.
“Yesterday she mentioned talking to the vic’s wife again,” Trey contributed.
“That was yesterday.”
Trey shrugged. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me. I told her I’d go with her if she decided to go. She never brought it up again.”
“Do we know how this happened? How Nancy ended up with hostages, one of them being Charlie?” Reese asked, shifting the subject.
Brantley glanced over, shook his head. “Detective Mathis doesn’t really know. He said Charlie left him a voicemail this morning, asked if he would try reaching out to Nancy Wright again. Said she was heading that way to talk to Annie Hawkins. Next call he got was from Charlie tellin’ him there was a hostage situation at the Hawkins’s home.”
“Who all’s there?” Reese asked as he keyed something into the laptop that was installed in the truck thanks to Sniper 1’s tech analysts.
“That’s a question I’m hopin’ you’ll get the answer for while I drive.”
*
If she had predicted she would be held hostage by a terrified woman and her bitchy friends today, Charlie would’ve never gotten out of bed.
Hell, she was questioning her motives now, wondering why she’d gotten the big idea that she was going to drive out to Lakeway and make another attempt at getting a face-to-face with Nancy Wright. Since they still hadn’t had any leads on where she was, Charlie had thought talking to one of her best friends might produce results.
The good news was they now knew where Nancy was.
The bad news … well, for starters, the shit show currently taking place. The one where there were a handful of hostages—Charlie included—and a very panicked Nancy Wright.
Worse than that, Charlie hadn’t bothered to tell her team, not wanting to interrupt their efforts in case nothing panned out on her end.
Teach her to want to help.
Charlie sat utterly still on the white leather sofa in the den, watching as Nancy paced back and forth, her movements short and clipped as though she wasn’t sure what her next move would be.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” she muttered.
Charlie wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but she suspected Annie was her prime target. Ever since her arrival, she’d been practically spitting fire in the other woman’s direction.
“Nancy, I think I can help you if you’ll just tell me what’s goin’ on,” Charlie urged.
When Charlie had arrived an hour ago, she’d been greeted by Peter the Lawyer. Despite the fact he’d been dressed in a fancy suit, Charlie had instantly known there was a problem. His pale face and shaking hands had been her first clue. At that point, walking into this house had been the equivalent of stepping onto the set of the Real Housewives. All three women had been screaming at one another, issuing threats, feigning hurt. All while Cedric Hawkins was lying in a heap on the floor and Peter the lawyer was attempting not to crap his pants.
At first, Charlie had offered to help, trying to calm the situation and check on Cedric Hawkins, who was no longer missing and—at least for the time being—was still alive, unlike his partners. Unfortunately, based on some of the heated exchanges, it didn’t appear he had a lengthy life expectancy because Nancy had other plans. During one of their many back-and-forth shouting matches, Nancy had grabbed a butcher knife from the marble block in the kitchen. The fire in her eyes as she waved it around had told Charlie she was on the verge of a breakdown.
That knife had gotten Annie’s and Mallory’s attention as well, both women going the overdramatic route, crying in earnest and begging Nancy not to kill them.
If Charlie hadn’t witnessed it, she never would’ve believed it was real.
So here she was, sitting quietly on the sofa while the others whimpered and cried, and Nancy continued to track steps on her fancy watch. The calm was just a facade, she knew. At any moment, one of the terrified hostages could freak out and cause Nancy to snap, something she appeared dangerously close to doing. Charlie’d wanted to get a handle on the situation, giving the police a chance to come since she’d opened the line to Detective Mathis as soon as Nancy had grabbed that knife. She only hoped he was listening and gathering the necessary people to get them all out of this unharmed.
“Talk to me, Nancy,” Charlie said again. “Help me understand what’s happening.”
“It’s obvious,” Nancy said softly, her hand trembling around the hilt of the knife.
As though it was, Charlie nodded, pretending to understand.
Nancy Wright was a slight woman. No more than five foot two, probably a good ten pounds underweight with small features and small bone structure, she wasn’t an imposing figure. Had it not been for the angry expression, she probably would’ve blended into the wallpaper, familiar with fading into the background. Even though she had control of the room since she wielded the knife, she looked as though she wanted to disappear into the floorboards.
“Nancy, why are you doing this?” Annie asked, her voice trembling, her expression one of a terrified woman.
Charlie got the impression Annie Hawkins was good at pretending to be something she wasn’t. Not for a second did Charlie believe that woman was scared of Nancy.
“Me?” Nancy’s voice raised slightly, waving the knife. “This is all your doing. You did this.”
“Me?” Annie’s gaze shot to Charlie briefly, then back to Nancy. “Whatever are you talking about, honey? I think you’re just traumatized. Losing your husb—”