Chapter 7

Barron turned on his heel. He took a step toward the door to begin the interrogation.

Amari reached out. Her small hand, free of IV lines, grabbed the bottom edge of Barron's suit jacket. She gripped the expensive fabric tight.

Barron stopped instantly. He turned back. He bent at the waist, bringing his face level with hers.

Amari swallowed hard. "I want to take Ghost."

Andres frowned. "Who is Ghost? Is there another child trapped in that house?"

Amari shook her head. "No. He's a black cat. He lives in the shed in the backyard."

Evalyn stroked Amari's hair. She looked up at her brothers. "He was the only friend she had."

Elwin smiled gently. "We can buy you any cat in the world, Amari."

Amari shook her head stubbornly. Tears pooled in her eyes. She tried to sit up, but the movement pulled her fractured ribs. She gasped and fell back.

Finley rushed forward. He placed his large hands gently on her shoulders. "Don't move. We'll get him. I promise."

Barron checked his watch. He looked at Andres. "Prep the heavy medical transport. We go together."

Ten minutes later, a massive mobile ICU truck pulled up to the hospital entrance. Four medics rolled Amari's bed inside. Andres pushed Evalyn's wheelchair next to it. Six armored SUVs formed a convoy.

Miles away, inside Delma's living room, the air was thick with tension. Delma and Jazmyne sat on the sofa, their hands zip-tied behind their backs. Four tactical guards stood in the corners like stone statues.

Jazmyne thrashed. "You can't do this! My family will have you thrown in federal prison!"

The guard captain stared at her with dead eyes. He walked over, pulled a dirty rag from his vest, and shoved it into her mouth.

Outside, the rumble of heavy diesel engines shook the windows. Tires screeched. The mobile ICU truck parked directly in front of the broken gates.

The guards inside moved to the entrance. The ruined doorway was suddenly filled with bright afternoon sunlight.

The sudden glare hit Delma's face. She squinted.

When her eyes adjusted, she looked at the doorway.

Evalyn sat in a wheelchair, wearing a hospital gown. Her posture was rigid. Her eyes locked onto Delma with pure, concentrated hatred.

Delma's breath caught in her throat. The blood drained from her face. The woman she thought was a brain-dead vegetable was staring right at her.