The Cradle Files

“He used a silencer,” she heard Garrett say. Somehow. With her pulse pounding she was surprised she’d managed to hear anything.

But she fully understood that someone had just tried to murder them.

Lexie’s heart kicked into overdrive. She hadn’t thought her life could get any more complicated, but she’d obviously thought wrong.

“There are three of them out there,” Garrett announced. “Maybe more.”

Oh, God. It just kept getting worse. “All armed?”

“I only got a glimpse, but it appears that way.”

The adrenaline and the fear slammed through her. Lexie wasn’t helpless, but she certainly wasn’t mentally or physically prepared to take on gunmen who would brazenly fire shots into a cop’s house.

“I guess this isn’t a good time for me to say I told you so,” she mumbled. “You didn’t believe me when I said someone was after me.”

“Can we put this argument on hold, huh?” he snarled. “We’ve got a situation here.”

Yes, a situation they might not survive.

Garrett scrambled across the room, and even though he’d turned out the lights, there was enough illumination from the moonlight filtering through the French doors that she could see him reach for his gun. In another smooth move he slid her weapon across the floor to her. Lexie took the cue and tried to retrieve the ammunition that he’d expelled minutes earlier. There was just one problem: she couldn’t find it.

“I-told-you-so’s aside, who’s out there?” Garrett asked. He hurriedly locked the bedroom door. The simple gesture was a sickening reminder that the gunmen might not stay outside. They’d likely come in after them. “What are we up against?”

She waited a moment, praying the answer would come to her. It didn’t. “I don’t know.”

And she didn’t. Unfortunately, there were a lot of things she wasn’t sure of, but she was certain of one thing—this attack was meant for her. Maybe it was the doctor. Or the man who’d actually stolen her baby. Maybe it was both. At this point it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was staying alive so they could find their daughter.

“Call for backup,” Garrett ordered, crawling across the room to the window. Using his bare foot, he kicked the ammunition and sent it rolling her way. “The phone’s next to the bed. Stay low.”

Lexie scooped up the bullets and reloaded as she scurried to the phone. She yanked it from its cradle, her index finger already poised to dial 911, but there was no dial tone.

“It’s not working,” she relayed to Garrett. “I think they cut the line.”

He cursed. “You don’t happen to have a cell phone on you?”

“No.”

He mumbled something she couldn’t distinguish. “Mine is in the kitchen.”

“Enough said,” she mumbled back. Because she knew the kitchen had lots and lots of windows, plus a glass patio door. Going in there would be suicide. Besides, it was probably the area the gunmen would no doubt choose to break and enter. It’d certainly been her first choice to gain access to the place.

Garrett lifted his head for a quick look out the French doors. It was necessary, she knew. He needed to assess the situation.

But she also knew he’d just risked being shot.

He’d put his life on the line, not necessarily for her, though. He was, after all, a cop through and through. And Lexie was counting heavily on that. Because she needed all his cop skills, all his resolve—everything—to get out of this and find the baby.

“Are they still out there?” she asked, and was almost afraid to hear the answer.

“I don’t see them.” He paused. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

Lexie silently agreed. She seriously doubted the gunmen would just leave. Which meant that Garrett and she needed a plan. There was just one problem. Three gunmen, maybe more, and she couldn’t even remember if she knew how to shoot straight.

“I know how to use this gun, right?” she whispered.

“You know how.” He glanced at her and made eye contact from across the room. “That doesn’t mean you’re going to get the opportunity to prove it.”

“You have a better idea?”

“A better idea than shooting our way out of here? Yeah, I think I do. Follow me.”

Crawling across the glass-littered floor, he went to the door that led into the hall, and pressed his ear against it.

She made her way toward him. To his side. And listened as well. She heard the mechanical rhythm of the air conditioner, but nothing else.

Garrett reached for the doorknob.

Lexie reached for him, latching on to his wrist. “We’re going out there?”

“We don’t have a choice.” His voice was strained and had little sound. “We have no way to call for backup, and with those silencers we can’t count on the neighbors hearing anything and calling the cops.”

It all made sense. Unfortunately. They couldn’t just stay put. There was nothing to stop the gunmen from crashing through those French doors.

“You’re just going to have to trust me on this,” Garrett said.

He didn’t give her time to respond. He took her hand from his wrist and opened the door. Just a fraction. He glanced out into the hallway and must have approved of what he saw, or rather what he didn’t see, because he whispered, “Let’s go.”

Crouching, Garrett opened the door wide and had another quick look before he started out of the room. He moved in bursts, his vigilant gaze darting around the hall.

Lexie followed. Staying low. And keeping a firm grip on her gun.

They went toward the kitchen—the last place on earth she’d thought he would go. And that put a substantial dent in her resolve to trust him. Still, she continued to follow him, and she continued to pray. They had to make it out of this. Failure was not an option.

Lexie forced herself to remember her baby’s cry. It was the only thing she could remember about the child she’d given birth to. But that cry was enough to sustain her, and Lexie held on to it as they inched their way across the kitchen floor.

The room was dark. Not by accident. She’d turned out the lights before she’d gone into the hall to confront Garrett. Maybe, just maybe, the darkness would shield them so they could go wherever Garrett was taking them.

She heard a sound. Not the baby’s cry that she’d fixed in her head, but a snap. As if someone had stepped on a twig. The sound was close. Too close. It had likely come from the backyard, mere feet away.

Garrett paused. Lifted his head, listening. Another snap, closer this time. The doorknob on the kitchen door moved. Someone was testing to see if it was locked. Thankfully, it was. But that testing caused Garrett to look over his shoulder at her.

Even with just the dim moonlight, she saw his expression. Saw the question on his face. “I locked the patio door when I came in,” she whispered. “I was afraid someone might follow me. Obviously, I was right to be afraid.”

Not that a locked glass door would provide them with much protection.

Garrett evidently knew that as well, because he didn’t look for his phone. He went straight to the laundry room, which was little more than a corridor. He didn’t stop there. He reached up and grabbed keys from a wooden rack mounted on the wall, and unlocked the door that led into the garage.

There was a crash of glass from the kitchen. The gunmen were either inside or would be within seconds. Lexie felt another slam of adrenaline, and it gave her the jolt of energy that she needed.