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The bullet made a small crater in the wall. Mrs. Edgar went from calm to terrified, and Sophia hated that her brother had brought violence into the kind woman’s house. How could Henry have called Javier his brother when this boy terrorized them?
She didn’t want to cry, but tears fell. She wanted to be strong, but she’d lost Henry and she’d lost Sergio and nothing would ever be the same again. She would die if Javier killed Mrs. Edgar because of her.
“Let’s go. And Sophia? If you cause me any more problems, I will tie you up and put you in the trunk. Do you understand? Do you?”
She nodded. Yes, he would do what he said.
He would tie her up. He would hurt her. Would he kill her, too? She didn’t want to die.
“I—I—I’ll—I’ll go with you,” she stuttered.
“Sophia, you don’t have to,” Mrs. Edgar said.
But she did. She didn’t want anyone else to be hurt.
Javier grabbed her and opened the front door.
Police cars lined the street. A booming voice came through a loudspeaker. “Put your gun down and your hands up.”
Javier slammed the door and screamed in rage.
Twenty-Three
I heard Javier scream as the door slammed shut.
“Who called the police?” he shouted at the front of the house.
I had arrived five minutes before the police and made a plan. Maybe I was being reckless, but two people were in danger and I was riding high on the adrenaline from what happened at the restaurant. Javier was unpredictable, so I broke a rear window and climbed into the back of Evelyn Edgar’s home. I landed in the master bedroom where a framed picture of Evelyn, her deceased husband, and their four daughters when they were young greeted me.
I would not let those girls lose their mother.
I texted Villines and Jack that I was in the house. I had told 9-1-1 what I planned to do; they advised me not to. I ignored the dispatcher. Someone had to de-escalate the situation.
I called Villines.
“What the fuck are you doing, Margo? We’re only a minute out.”
“I’m putting you on speaker so you can hear everything,” I whispered. “But I won’t be able to hear you.”
I hoped he could hear through my clothing as I pocketed my phone.
Javier paced and ranted, breaking things, acting like a caged animal. Keeping my back to the wall, I crept silently down the hall until I could better see into the living room.
Evelyn was on the floor. I didn’t see blood and she was conscious. She looked worried, her eyes fixated across the room toward the kitchen, presumably on Javier. I didn’t see Sophia.
I stared at Evelyn, willing her to look at me. Finally, she did. I put my finger to my lips and I saw in her eyes she understood.
“Okay, okay,” Javier was saying. “We’re going to go, baby. You and me. We’ll go out the back.”
“No,” Sophia sobbed from the kitchen. I couldn’t see her and didn’t know how close Javier was to her, whether she was restrained or injured. I would have to wing it.
“Stop fighting me!” Javier said. “It’s going to be you and me. I have a place for us. Then you’ll understand that everything I did, I did for you. We have to go now before the cops show up. Come on!”
I heard Sophia struggling, then I heard the distinct, loud click of a bullhorn. “Javier Escobar, this is the Phoenix Police Department,” the voice said from the front yard. “Come out with your hands in the air.”
“No!” Javier shouted. He stomped from the kitchen to the living room, holding Sophia close to him, the fingers of his left hand tight around her bicep, his right hand holding the gun to her side. He angled his head so he could peer through the blinds. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!”
I feared he was going to start shooting. The police wouldn’t fire into the house knowing there were two hostages, but if Javier felt trapped, he might kill Sophia.
