Love is Murder (10 page)

Within two minutes, the entire roomful of people were on their knees and the aisle was strewn with designer handbags and BlackBerry phones.

“Now stay still. I’ll come to you. If you move before I tell you to, you’ll be shot.”

The masked gunman unzipped his duffel bag and walked to the rear aisle before making his way methodically forward. “All valuables in here. Jewelry, wallets, money clips—everything. Not a word. Just do it. Fast.”

He waited while the terrified guests complied, the men tossing in their wallets, money clips and watches, while the women fumbled with their necklace clasps and earrings. While his instructions were being executed, the gunman snatched up the cell phones and expensive purse contents, shoving them in the duffel bag until everything had been collected. And “everything” was a lot. The Hewitts and the Colemans were both wealthy. So were their friends.

“Please,” Kim managed in a quavering voice, hearing her son’s quiet sobs. “You have everything you came for. Please go. Don’t hurt us.”

His hard glare bore through her. “I’m going to unlock the outside door,” he announced to the group. “When I do, I want all of you to get up and get out of here. You have thirty seconds before I change my mind. But the bride and the boy—they stay.”

“What?” Kim’s father’s head shot up. “Why would you want them?”

“Shut up and do what I say,” the gunman snapped. He waited for Kim’s father to nod. Then, he turned the gun on Kim. “You stay down,” he ordered. “And you.” He pivoted until the gun pointed at James. “Get out with the others.”

“I’m not leaving Kim or Sam,” James stated flatly, half rising to a crouched position on the dais.

“Then you’re dying in front of them both.” A gloved index finger moved to the trigger. “Your choice.”

“Please, James—go,” Kim whispered to him. “I don’t want you to die. And Sam is already traumatized. We’ve got to protect him.”

With reluctant acceptance, James fell silent, giving a terse nod.

“Good.” The gunman swung the duffel bag onto his shoulder and retraced his steps to the outside door. He turned the lock and flung it open. “Go,” he commanded.

Everyone scrambled to their feet and there was a mass exodus out the door. Kim’s parents had to be shoved out by James, who was muttering, “It’s the only way to keep them safe. We’ll get help.”

The reverend was the last one out. He hesitated in the doorway, turning to scrutinize their abductor’s masked face. “Let them go,” he said quietly. “The little boy is practically a baby. He doesn’t understand. Please. Show some mercy.”

“I am. He’s with his mother. Now get out. Your being a man of God won’t stop me from putting a bullet in your head.”

The silver-haired reverend turned, gazing sadly at Kim. “God be with you,” he murmured. “I’ll do what I can.” He clearly didn’t mean just prayer. Judging from the speed with which he moved, he was en route to notify the authorities.

The gunman locked the door and turned, expecting to see only the bride and her little boy in the chapel.

Instead he also saw a slim, blonde woman on her knees beside the child, shielding him with her body. He was weeping and clinging to her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the gunman demanded. “Didn’t you hear me say to get out?”

“I heard you,” Claire replied in a soft, calm voice. “But I’m not going anywhere. This is my godchild. I’m staying with him and his mother.”

Through the slits in his mask, his eyes bore through her in disbelief. “You’re staying,” he repeated, a bitter note creeping into his gravelly voice.

“Yes.” Claire gathered Sam against her, simultaneously giving Kim a hard shake of her head. She could sense that her friend was about to leap up and grab Sam. “Don’t,” she instructed Kim, never shifting her gaze from the gunman. “Ted would never hurt his son.”

“Ted!”
Kim gasped. It was a statement, not a question. Kim had spent a lifetime exposed to Claire’s talent. She no longer questioned it.

“Take off the mask,” Claire urged. “Sam is already scared to death. At least let him know that it’s his father doing this. Not some masked monster.” Irony laced her voice.

Ted muttered an oath and yanked the ski mask over his head. “Damn you, you freak,” he ground out, teeth clenched, pistol aimed at Claire. “It’s too bad for you that you decided to play heroine. Because
you’re
expendable. If we don’t get out of here before the cops show up, you’ll be my human shield. You’re a psychic, so you know I’m dead serious. I want Kim and Sam. Not you. So, if it comes down to it, I’ll take my family and let the cops put a round of bullets through you.”

* * *

With one hand, Sloane Burbank Parker squeezed the water out of her hair, letting it trickle down her bikini-clad figure. She continued walking along Kalhui Beach, sand beneath her bare feet, her fingers linked with her new husband’s. Twelve out of fourteen days of a dream-come-true honeymoon.

Soon to be followed by twenty-two weeks of FBI training at Quantico.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Derek murmured, following her gaze and watching the sun shimmering its last rays of the day on the serene waters. He brought Sloane’s hand to his lips. “We could just forget to go home.”

“Tempting.” She smiled. “But forget it, Special Agent Parker. You’re no longer going to be the only one in this relationship who works for the Bureau. I’m coming back with a vengeance.”

She’d been sidelined with a career-threatening injury for two years. Two years too long. Now she was coming back, retraining and raring to go. Her wedding and honeymoon had been incredible. But in a few days it would be time to go home and live life.

Derek was chuckling at her reply as they walked across the chapel lawn toward their room.

His laughter was short-lived.

A crowd of white-faced people rushed across the gardens, bumping into each other and nearly colliding with Sloane and Derek in an attempt to escape from…something. They were dressed in formal attire, an obvious indication that they’d come from an event at the chapel. They were also clearly terrified.

Instinctively, Sloane put out her arm and stopped one woman, who jumped a foot in the air at the contact.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Sloane said.

“You’ve got to run,” the woman replied, struggling to get away. “He’s got a gun.”

“Who’s got a gun?”

A fearful silence.

“We’re with the FBI,” Sloane announced quickly. “Tell us what’s going on.”

The woman sucked in her breath. “You’re FBI agents?”

“Yes.”

That calmed the woman down enough to elicit a response. “A man with a ski mask broke into the chapel during the wedding ceremony. He held us at gunpoint and demanded all our money and our jewelry. He’s still in there, holding hostages.”

“Is anyone hurt?” Derek demanded, abruptly switching from new husband into special-agent mode. “How many hostages?”

“Two. Kim and her son, Sam. I don’t know if he hurt them. He made us all go, but kept them.”

Sloane and Derek exchanged quick glances. She was already reaching into her tote bag and pulling out her BlackBerry. “He took your phones?” she surmised aloud as she punched in 911.

“Yes…” The woman covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Who are Kim and Sam?” Derek asked, while Sloane reported the situation to the Maui County Police Department.

“The bride and her little boy.”

“How little?”

“He’s three. He was sobbing his heart out when we left.” The woman broke down and began to weep.

“Try to calm down,” Derek said in a soothing tone. “Tell me who you are.”

“Marge Hewitt. I’m Kim’s aunt, her father’s sister.”

“Okay, Ms. Hewitt, we’re going to get them out.”

“How?”

“My wife is a hostage negotiator. She’ll get the right people here, and do what needs to be done.”

“The police are on their way,” Sloane announced as she ended the call. “Their precinct is about four minutes up the road.” Sloane turned to Derek. “Find security,” she instructed. “Have them seal off the building and clear the grounds. I’m sure the hotel has established a phone tree. Have management activate it. This way, all the guests who are in their rooms or in the dining rooms can be advised to stay put. No one will be able to go in or out, so the danger will be isolated.”

“Done.” Derek was already on his way.

Sloane gave Marge Hewitt a questioning look as a small group of the wedding guests began gathering around them. “Did I hear you say you’re the bride’s aunt?”

A nod. “Marge Hewitt.”

“This gunman—did he give you any indication that this was personal? Or why he chose to keep Kim and Sam in particular?”

“It’s not just Kim and Sam,” a dark-haired man in his late thirties interrupted. He turned to Marge. “Claire’s in there, too. The reverend said she was crouched behind Sam and never came out.”

“Oh, no.” Marge squeezed her eyes, then opened them to make a quick introduction. “This is James Coleman, the groom. James, this woman is an FBI agent.”

For an instant, the groom blinked, taking in Sloane’s petite size and bikini-clad figure. Then he looked up and met her gaze.

“It’s true,” Sloane assured him. “I’d show you my credentials, but clearly I wasn’t on duty. I’m on my honeymoon.” She extended her hand. “Special Agent Sloane Burbank.” She realized it would be several months before she could truly use that title again. But, in this situation, it hardly mattered.

“I apologize, Agent Burbank,” James said, shaking her hand. “I’m a mess.”

“Understandable. And no apology necessary.” Sloane gave him a questioning look. “Now, who’s Claire?”

“Kim’s best friend. The maid of honor. She’s also Sam’s godmother. So she’s very protective of him. She probably refused to leave.”

At that moment, a uniformed Hawaiian patrol officer strode over to join them. “Agent Burbank?” he asked.

“That would be me.” Sloane turned to the earnest young man.

“I’m Officer Kahanu. Two detectives and our command officer should be here momentarily. Our command officer already contacted the Maui FBI, and our tactical unit is ready to be dispatched. What’s our status?”

“Three hostages and an armed gunman.” Sloane frowned. The FBI Resident Agency in Maui consisted of two agents. Not great odds for what she needed. “Do any of your detectives have hostage negotiation training?”

“Two. Also, one of the FBI agents here is also trained. We’re small here, but we try to be prepared.”

“Good,” Sloane said with grim relief. “Because one of the hostages is a three-year-old boy. We’d better find a way to talk this offender out.”

She watched as Officer Kahanu raced back to meet his command officer. It would take them a couple of minutes to get here. In the meantime…

Her gaze slid to the outside door leading to the ballroom hall—which connected directly to the inside entry to the chapel. Security would be locking that door down any second.

Someone needed to be on the inside, barricading that door and communicating with the offender, working simultaneously with the lead hostage negotiator. Someone with training.

With a quick glance around, Sloane sprinted over and let herself in.

It only took a few seconds to get oriented. Then she crept down the hall to the door that separated her from the chapel—and the hostage scene.

* * *

Inside the chapel, Ted held the gun on Claire and reached out his other hand to Sam.

“It’s okay, buddy. It’s Daddy. Come on over here. You, Mommy and I are going through the inside of the hotel. I know a secret entrance. We’ll leave through there.”

Sam cringed against Claire and whipped his head from side to side. “No.”

“Don’t be afraid, buddy,” Ted continued, a muscle working in his jaw. “I’m not going to hurt you or Mommy. I just want us to go where no one can keep us apart.”

“You said Claire might die.” Sam didn’t release his grip on Claire’s gown. “Are you gonna shoot her?”

A hard swallow. “Of course not. I just said that so your mommy would remember how much she loves us.”

“What about Claire?”

“Claire will be fine. She’ll just stay with us until we leave the hotel. Then she’ll say goodbye and go home.”

Sam’s lower lip began to tremble. “I don’t want her to say goodbye. Can’t she come, too?”

“No, Sam,” Ted said, trying to keep his tone steady and gentle. “I only have three plane tickets. And enough money in this duffel bag to take care of you, me and Mommy. No one else.”

Kim noted the frenetic look in Ted’s eyes, heard the familiar tremor in his voice. Wondering how much he’d had to drink, she chose her words carefully. “Put down the gun, Ted. You’re scaring Sam. How do you expect him to believe what you’re saying when you have that pistol aimed at us?”

Ted half lowered the gun, but not enough so that Kim or Claire could charge him and try to snatch it away.

“I’m going to our son,” Kim told him quietly. “Maybe I can calm him down. That will be to all our advantages.”

“Fine.” Ted half waved the pistol. “But don’t just calm him down. Convince him. We’re running out of time.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Kim and Claire exchanged glances. The clock was ticking. And no one seemed to be around to help them.

* * *

Within the next five minutes, Detectives Ignaccio and Silva had joined their on-scene command officer. Then came the Maui County SWAT team, and FBI Special Agent Fitzpatrick, who was the acting primary negotiator. EMT had also arrived, should they be needed. The area surrounding the chapel and the connecting wing were sealed off and surrounded. Just outside of that, of course, was the press, who smelled a story in the air.

Derek had just returned to the scene. He scanned the entire area, seeing no sign of his wife.

“Have you seen Agent Burbank?” he asked James.

The groom shook his head. “Not in the past few minutes. Last I saw her, she was standing over there, near the chapel corridor.”

Derek’s gaze made a quick sweep of the area. But the gesture was perfunctory. He knew exactly where Sloane was.

He whipped out his BlackBerry. His wife’s would be on silent. He punched her number.