He’d already set out steaks to grill for dinner. Those were thawed by now, so he tossed them into the fridge. When his phone buzzed as he put together a sandwich, Roman expected to see his Little’s name. Instead, it was the security office at the mall.
His heart rate quickened as he accepted the call. “Amato here.”
“Mr. Amato. This is Bert Onado, with the security office. I think you should come to the mall. We have a situation here.”
Roman was already halfway to the bedroom to grab his shoes and keys. “What’s up, Bert?”
“There’s a hostage situation in the food court. We’ve called the police and evacuated the area, but the captor is demanding to see you.”
“Do you know who he is?” Roman asked. He wanted to know what he was dealing with.
“The police are working on that. They should have a name by the time you arrive,” Bert suggested.
“Good. I’m on my way. Keep everyone out of that area.”
“A few food workers are still trapped in their kitchens as well as the one woman being held at gunpoint. We don’t know her name either.”
“Let me know if they’re identified before I get there. Tell the police I’m on my way.”
“An officer will meet you at the east entrance. I think they’re worried about what will happen if the gunman sees you,” Bert shared.
“Got it. Thanks, Bert, for all you’re doing. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Forcing himself to drive no faster than the posted speed limits, Roman faced his first challenge when he tried to turn into the mall parking lot. The stream of cars exiting with urgency slowed him down tremendously. He could feel his blood pressure rising and took deep breaths to relax as he scanned the area. A police car blocked the next entrance. Roman drove toward the vehicle and pulled close.
“I’m sorry, sir. The mall is closed.”
“Officer, I’m Roman Amato. I own the mall. My security officers asked me to come in to help.”
“Can I see some ID?” The officer looked skeptical but read Roman’s name. “Zigler at the east entrance. A Roman Amato is here and stating that he’s the mall owner. Do I let him in?”
“Immediately. Escort him through the crowd with a car to the east entrance,” the walkie-talkie squawked back.
“Sorry, sir. Here’s your ID. Let me get a car to take you.” The officer’s tone had drastically changed.
In a few minutes, Roman parked and jogged to the officers who waited at the entrance. “I’m Roman Amato.” He nodded to Bert.
“Thank you for coming in, Mr. Amato. I’m Detective Sam Parks. Bert reported he’d talked to you, but let me give you the latest update as we head inside.”
Roman nodded as they turned to walk.
“A Frank Wilson has taken a woman hostage and is holding a gun to her head. He is demanding to talk to you. Do you know who he is?”
“Frank Wilson?” Roman repeated. “That name doesn’t sound familiar. Do you know why they want to talk to me? Does he have a record of violence?”
“Not even a parking ticket. He’s demanding to talk to you in person. Are you willing to speak to him? We can try a phone call first.”
Detective Parks’s tone told Roman a lot. “You don’t believe he will respond well to a phone call.”
“No, sir. We would have tried that before.”
“In person, it is. Can you protect me from getting shot?” Roman asked, cutting to the bottom line.
“We’ll stop at that security point, sir, to get you equipped with riot gear.” Detective Parks pointed a short distance away, where racks of vests and helmets stood.
Fitting the bulletproof vest over his clothing took the most time. Roman’s body temperature rose as the vest material and the metal helmet trapped his body heat. He mentally thanked the mall staff who had kept the interior chilly. The officer talked about safety and logistics.
Roman was overwhelmed with worry, the hustle and bustle of activities around him, not to mention scouring his brain for any clue about who Frank Wilson was. Still, he did his best to focus. His life could be at risk. He didn’t plan to die when he’d just met his Little girl.
