“I can imagine holding two little ones at the same time.” She’s practically burning up with baby fever.
“You better be careful what you wish for. You might end up with twins.”
London shrugs. “So be it.”
“You’re cra-” the chiming on the television catches my attention.
“WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM WITH A SPECIAL REPORT,”the newscaster announces.“EARLIER TODAY, OFFICIALS RECEIVED A TIP THAT TWO MISSING BOYS, JAMES ANTHONY AND RODNEY O’CONNELL, WERE BEING HELD IN A REMOTE HOME ON THE NORTH SIDE OF OAHU. THE TWO BOYS WERE REPORTED MISSING LAST THURSDAY AFTER NOT RETURNING HOME FROM A LATE SOCCER PRACTICE. THE OWNER OF THE HOME ANDSUSPECTED CAPTOR IS CHARLES TINLEY. TINLEY, A REGISTERED SEX OFFENDER, WAS THE PRIME SUSPECT IN THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD JUSTIN COPELAND SEVERAL YEARS AGO, BUT NO CHARGES WERE EVER FILED. TINLEY ALSO HAS A HISTORY OF MENTAL ILLNESS AND HAS BEEN CALLED ‘A THREAT TO HIMSELF AND TO OTHERS WHEN NOT TAKING HIS MEDICATION.’”
London turns up the volume as we listen more intently to the young, pretty newscaster speak. She’s one of the anchors on the morning news show Kayne and I sometimes watch.
“EARLY THIS MORNING, A HIKER HEARD SCREAMING IN THE WOODS CLOSE TO HIS CAMPSITE. RICHARD PRICE FOLLOWED THE SOUNDS UNTIL HE CAME UPON TINLEY’S RESIDENCE. THERE, HE SAW TINLEY TORTURING ONE OF THE BOYS WITH A LIT CIGARETTE WHILE TIED TO A TREE. PRICE IMMEDIATELY CALLED AUTHORITIES. WHEN HE CONFRONTED TINLEY, TINLEY PULLED OUT A KNIFE AND RETREATED INTO THE HOUSE. PRICE MANAGED TO GET RODNEY O’CONNELL FREE, BUT WAS INFORMED THAT JAMES ANTHONY WAS STILL INSIDE THE RESIDENCE. ONCE OFFICIALS ARRIVED ON THE SCENE, TINLEY FIRED SEVERAL WARNING SHOTS AT THE OFFICERS WITH A SHOTGUN. WHEN OFFICIALS GAVE TINLEY THE OPTION TO SURRENDER, HE INFORMED THE OFFICERS HE WAS ‘IN POSSESSION OF EXPLOSIVES AND WOULD BLOW HIM AND THE BOY UP IF THEY DIDN’T LEAVE.’
DUE TO THE NATURE AND SEVERITY OF THE SITUATION, HONOLULU SWAT WAS DISPATCHED AND HAS NOW TAKEN CONTROL OF THE SCENE.”
That’s when my stomach drops. The camera flashes to a live feed of the house, surrounded by a dozen and a half men dressed in black body armor. Some holding machine guns; some holding protective shields. The image is too far away to see any facial features, but both London and I know Kayne and Jett are somewhere in the mix of the Special Weapons and Tactics Team. All we can do is watch as the men carry out what they were trained to do—defuse violent situations. We sit in a frozen state as the team surrounds the tiny rundown house while too many antagonistic words play on repeat in my mind—a history of mental illness, a threat to him and others, explosives.
The men just hold their ground, while London and I hold our breath. What are they waiting for? I lived through the raidat Mansion, and Kayne had told me the story of my attempted extraction when Michael kidnapped me, but I have never really seen him in action, so to speak. Never witnessed firsthand how he puts his life on the line until now—a history of mental illness, a threat to him and others, explosives.
My lungs cycle oxygen sluggishly as the men descend on the house, kicking the door down and crashing through windows. But nothing prepares me for what happens next.
BOOM.
“IT IS REPORTED SEVERAL OFFICERS HAVE SUSTAINED LIFE-THREATENING INJURIES.”
It feels like that sentence is stuck on repeat.
“It is reported several officers have sustained life-threatening injuries.”
“It is reported several officers have sustained life-threatening injuries.”
But they don’t say which officers. We can’t even see their faces as they’re dragged from the wreckage. What remains of the house is nothing more than a pile of destroyed wood. It’s been almost seventeen minutes since the bomb exploded.
“CHARLES TINLEY IS REPORTED DEAD.”
Is it wrong to be thankful of that and still be resentful because he hurt people in the process? Possibly hurt my husband or one of my best friends?
I feel sick. Like I want to throw up. Neither Kayne nor Jett are answering their cell phones, which only makes my rampant thoughts run wilder.
I compulsively twist my wedding ring around my finger. A white gold band with pink diamonds and the words, ‘Ruined By Him’ etched on the inside.
Kayne has a similar engraving on his, ‘Owned By Her.’
He surprised me with the inscriptions during the ceremony.I could barely hold it together as it was—then he showed me his little surprise, and it sent me right over the edge. That moment was perfect and beautiful and magical, and I know it can never be emulated again. Our wedding was a one-of-a-kind day; the same way my husband is a one-of-a-kind man. Anomalous. Unique. Irreplaceable.
The one person I could never live without.
“It is reported several officers have sustained life-threatening injuries.”
The emergency room is in an uproar, no doubt preparing for the mass injuries about to barrel through the door. One of them possibly my husband. I clutch my stomach instinctively. This is supposed to be a happy day.
When the first gurney carrying a hurt officer rolls by my patient room, I lose the battle with my nausea and puke in the biohazard bag. My nerves just can’t take this.
“Ellie.” London holds my hair until the contents of my stomach are empty.
“I feel the same way,” she tells me as I dry heave.
“Ugh. Yuck.” I wipe my mouth.
