Finally, Raye lightly touched my arm and then carefully opened the closet door.
She inched out, Taser up and ready.
I inched out after her the same way, but I went toward the bed.
She hit the door and flattened herself against the wall before peering around.
I bent down to Shanti and indicated with my Taser for her to slide out.
She did, and we followed Raye as we slowly made our way to the living room.
Raye put two fingers up and signaled to the kitchen like she was head commando in a commando movie.
And she didn’t look like a dork doing it.
I mean, we weren’t badasses.
But come on.
We were still kinda badass.
Shanti carefully made her way there and looked around. She entered. I followed her.
She was in the utility room. She shook her head to me where I was in the kitchen.
“Clear,” I whispered to Raye.
See?
Kinda badass!
Raye clicked on her Maglite and immediately shone it on the tattered armchair.
There was an eight by ten picture resting in the seat.
We all moved to huddle around.
“Snap it,” Raye said, her voice sounding strange.
I knew why when I saw the picture was of a seriously worked over Amy Small, who looked to be crying. She was gagged and sitting on a chair. She was holding a newspaper in front of her stomach, the paper facing out.
I holstered my Taser, pulled my phone out of my pocket, tucked my flashlight between my knees, and took six snaps, portrait and landscape.
“Got it,” I said as I straightened.
“Let’s go,” Raye said.
We’d hit the utility room when I said, “Wait.”
They stopped.
“Those dudes are probably not coming back,” I remarked.
Raye and Shanti nodded.
I ran to the kitchen table, set my flashlight down, grabbed a pen, one of Duane’s bills (the guy really had to consider going paperless) and wrote on the back.
Raye and Shanti were close so I held what I wrote low, and Raye shined her light on it.
