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Deb wouldn’t have gone upstairs and left the door open. She might be a ray of sunshine, but she wasn’t stupid or ignorant. Michael closed the door gently, then sprinted for the front, twinging pain lancing up his spine with every step. Pizza boxes were opened and beer fizzed. “Where’d Deb go? I found the backdoor open, and no sign of her.”
Wiz sprang to her feet, pulled a pistol and sprinted for the back, Tom, Pete and Ryan following. Staying at the table, Erin and Sam went for their phones, thumbs flying. Erin looked up. “Nothing.”
Michael raced to the back. Wiz stood just inside the open back door, pistol drawn and pointed at the ground, while Ryan, Tom and Pete searched the back lot. They returned quickly. Ryan shook his head. “Nothing. Her car is here, and your truck. No sign of any other vehicle, but one could have rolled in and out without us noticing if the car was quiet.”
Erin and Sam joined them. Erin pointed at the ceiling. “Has anyone checked her apartment?”
They all shook their heads. Erin crossed to the apartment’s stairway door and checked it. “Locked.”
Tom leaned out of sight, then returned. “Exterior door is locked too.”
Michael pushed through the crowd. “There’s a fire ladder outside. You can reach it from a pickup bed.”
“Wait,” Wiz hissed, holding her big black .45 low. “Don’t start your truck. Tom can lift me to the ladder.” She slid her pistol into a thigh holster, and took Tom’s hand, pulling him around to the side of the building. “Just like boosting me on to a horse, but a little higher and harder.”
They all followed, weapons out except Sam, who carried her phone. Wiz peered up at the ladder, and pulled Tom into place below it. When she turned away, he caught her shoulder. “You sure about this?” Wiz nodded.
“Okay.” He kissed her quickly, then stood, bending over, his feet spread wide. He laced his fingers together, forming a cup. Ryan moved behind Tom, and Pete to the other side, probably to catch her if the throw was short.
Wiz backed away and sprinted to Tom, jumping so one foot landed in Tom’s hands. He exploded upward, tossing her into the air like a circus performer. She caught the ladder’s second rung and pulled herself up, then climbed the remaining rungs. Clinging to the top of the ladder, she lifted herself to the side of the window and peered inside. She ducked down, looped an arm through the top rung, and pulled out her phone, texting with both thumbs.
Tom and Ryan both pulled out their phones, the rest of them gathering around to read.
“Deb tied to a stool next to the sink, behind a counter, gagged. At least two men, they’re searching, tearing things apart. Both near the bed at the front of the room. One team should go up the stair. I’ll try to lower the ladder quietly, so we can get a couple more up here. Shorter people, because getting through a window isn’t easy. Text when you’re at the top of the stairs. I’ll send a go message. Count three seconds after it arrives, then go. Whoever comes in first, go for Deb, knock her over behind the counter. Michael, you cut her free and make sure she gets out. One verbal warning, fire only when fired upon. Clear?”
Michael scanned the group. “I’m the shortest, I’ll go up the ladder if Wiz can get it down quietly. Erin is behind me. Ryan, Tom and Pete go for the stairway.” He’d take Ryan, but with only one hand, a ladder and a weapon was iffy.
Erin put an arm on Ryan’s shoulder. “Check her apron pockets for her keys. What about the window? Is Wiz going to break it? And if we have to break down the door, that will be noisy. They’re steel. It will take a while.”
“Great points.” Michael had brought his work truck. “I’ve got breaker bars in my truck. Tell Wiz we’re getting tools, but if she has to go in to protect Deb, we’ll be right behind her. Ask her how she’s getting in.” He sprinted for the back, grabbing the workbox on the truck and unlocking it. He opened the lid, and gently moved the tools off his bars, handing them to the others gathered around him, to reach the buried bars faster. “Just put them on the ground. We’ll pick them up later.”
He stuck a short claw bar in his back pocket for the window, handed his two-foot wrecking bar to Tom, and grabbed the three-foot crow bar for himself. “Tom, if you have to, pry right at the lock. Deadbolt first; since the door is steel, try to break the frame instead. If they’re both steel, you might have to go through the wall to the side instead, if there is one. Take the reciprocating saw and cut through the wallboard between the studs. Or just smash through with the bar. It will be noisy either way.”
Tom hefted the bar. “Got it. Too bad we don’t have a door ram.”
Erin’s phone lit up. “Wiz says the windows are shut. She’ll break it with her gun if she has to.”
“Pry bar might be faster and quieter.” Michael ran back to the ladder. The fire ladder was fully deployed, the bottom rung three feet off the ground. It was metal, so he’d have to climb carefully to keep the crow bar from clanging against the ladder. Wiz stood to the right side of the window, pistols in both hands, legs braced on the steep roof. Her right hand was turned ninety degrees so the butt of the gun faced the window; she was ready to break it and shoot at the same time, which was impressive. He’d never try it; he wasn’t a good enough off-hand shooter.
Michael climbed quietly to the top, then slid off the ladder to the left. Taking the small bar, he placed it right at the window latch, then glanced inside. As Wiz said, Deb was tied to a high stool, a kitchen towel tied around her head as a gag. She was jerking against the restraints, but carefully, probably because she didn’t want to tip over. Hopefully, she’d let herself fall if bullets flew.
At the front of the room, white fluff filled the air—the men had cut the cushions on her chair, and sliced the mattress open. Which was ridiculous; if Deb had money, it would be in her safe or invested in her business. So that meant these guys weren’t bright, or they were trying to intimidate her. Either way, they’d be likely to shoot first, ask questions later. At least their weapons were holstered.
Erin climbed up but remained crouched on the ladder. “I’ll use the small bar on the next window, you use the big one here.” She pulled the small bar loose and stepped around him carefully. “Sam got Deb’s extra keys out of her safe. The guys are at the top of the stairs, ready to go.”
Wiz holstered her left-hand pistol and put her left foot on the window sill, grabbing the window frame above his head with her left hand. “Erin, send the go.”
Erin whispered, “Sent. Three, two, go!”
Michael jammed the crow bar into the window frame and yanked down, hard enough that he almost fell off the roof. The window latch gave way with a screech and the window flew up, hitting the top with a bang. Wiz jumped inside at the same time the door slammed open, her voice matching Tom’s. “Hands up!”
He pulled his weapon, his fingers wrapped around the grip and off the trigger, then jumped through head first, letting his arms collapse, rolling on to his shoulder and across the floor to the island. Ryan crouched next to Deb, who was flat on the floor, and he was cutting her gag loose. Michael holstered his gun, pulled his pocket knife and sliced through the restraints on her feet. A gunshot rang, followed by a second. He and Ryan ducked but kept working on Deb’s bonds.
Men yelled as Michael helped Deb to a sitting position on the floor. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.” He put his arm around her waist; her feet might be numb. “Hang on, stay low. We’re going for the door, then down. Ready?” He glanced at Ryan; he nodded and drew his weapon, raising it to rest on the countertop above them.
Deb wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Ready.” Her voice trembled.
He tightened his arm. “Three, two, go.” He tightened his core muscles and thrust upward, like a jump squat, carrying Deb with him, and bounded to the door. He turned sideways, half-dragging her down the steep, narrow stairs, and then to the corner of her bakery near the walk-in refrigerator. He pointed at the floor, and she crouched. “If anyone shoots, go in the fridge, understand?”
