When Callie opened a drawer under the work area, she spied the scissors Joe needed. Turning ever so slightly, she found Malachi staring at her.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “No, of course not.” She pulled a microscope slide from the drawer. Callie rubbed the swab over the glass and allowed it to air-dry before she placed it onto the automatic staining machine.

  As the slide dropped into position and was covered with the first of a series of dyes, Callie returned the plates to the incubators. As attentive as Malachi was, she’d have to come back later for the scissors.

  Motioning for him to follow her into the main laboratory area, she headed for the chemistry analyzers. As she prepared her brother’s blood specimen for testing, Malachi leaned back against the slate countertop. The tension in his face eased. Away from Arnie, he seemed to let down his guard.

  “You from around here?” she asked, hoping to develop a rapport with the youngest gunman.

  He nodded. “Decatur’s home. My mama and grandma live there.”

  “Bet they’d like to see you on Christmas.”

  “Yeah. There’s a big family get-together. My mama’s been cooking all week.”

  “Turkey and dressing?”

  He nodded and smiled. “Corn-bread stuffing, collard greens, sweet-potato-and-pecan pie.” Malachi swallowed as if tasting the holiday treats, his eyes wistful. “My mama’s gonna be disappointed if I’m not there for supper.”

  “Ask Arnie. Maybe he’ll let you leave.”

  The gunman straightened. Perhaps she’d said too much.

  Callie programmed the tests into the analyzer before she spoke again. “Smart guy like you could make a difference in the world. Ever think of going straight?”

  He shrugged. “My mama said I should be a preacher.”

  Callie almost dropped the tube of blood she held. Either Malachi’s mother didn’t know the depth of his gang involvement or she had extraordinary confidence in God’s redeeming love to change her son’s heart.

  “Sounds like your mama wants you to be right with the Lord.”

  “I believed when I was a kid. Don’t have time for God no more. Gotta job to do. Gotta stay strong, you know what I mean?”

  Evidently Malachi had a flawed view of what it meant to be a Christian. “So you think believing in God would make you less of a man?”

  “I’m just sayin’ I’ve got other things to do.”

  “Like holding people hostage?” she asked.

  He stiffened. “We didn’t start out to do anybody no harm. Just needed to get Rocky. Make sure he was safe.”

  Robbie would have been safer remaining at Lazarus House, but Callie doubted the gunman would agree. “He needs medical care.”

  Malachi waved his arms in the air. “But you’ve got all these medical machines to make him better right here.” He pointed a finger at her chest. “You’re a nurse. The doc’s with him now.”

  “I’m a medical technologist,” she corrected. And the doc’s a cop. A fact she wouldn’t mention. “The tests will determine the seriousness of Rocky’s condition, but he needs intensive care that he can only get at a hospital.”

  “He wasn’t in a hospital when we grabbed him. He was in an old folks’ home.”

  “Lazarus House is a long-term nursing facility where he had full-time care,” Callie explained.

  “But they moved him there from Grady, the biggest hospital in the city.”

  Malachi was right. Under the cops’ insistence, no doubt. Tamika had said the transfer was in response to information law enforcement had received about the Exterminators.

  Callie would like to meet the wise guy who suggested her brother would be safe at the residential care facility. She’d give him a piece of her mind. He’d made a mistake—a big mistake that could cost three people their lives.

  Once the chemistry analyzer was running, Callie focused on the CBC. The results confirmed that Robbie’s red blood count was low. Any additional loss of blood would be life threatening.

  Conversely, his white blood count was elevated, indicating a possible infection. Callie turned back to the chemistry analyzer as the results flashed across the monitor. She printed off a hard copy of all the tests and shoved them into Malachi’s hand.

  “Take these to the doc while I see if the slide’s finished staining.” She motioned him into the donor room, relieved when Malachi complied with her request.

  Slipping into the small side lab, Callie grabbed the scissors and shoved them into the pocket of her lab coat just as the young gunman stepped back into the room.

  “Arnie wondered what’s keeping you,” he said.

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” She extracted the now-stained slide from the drying rack, added a drop of immersion oil and placed it on the microscope. Cells swarmed into focus. She pulled her eyes away and invited Malachi over.

  “Take a look,” she said.

  He leaned down to peer through the ocular, his gun close to her hand. Callie edged closer. Her fingers touched the cold metal.

  Malachi jerked his head up, and his right hand went for the gun.

  She pulled back just in time, keeping her gaze neutral. Inside she was shaking. “Did you see bacteria?”

  Malachi stared at her for a long moment then nodded.

  Callie kept talking, hoping to distract Malachi. “Bacteria with a circular shape are called cocci. It they appear in a chain, they’re called streptococci.”

  Footsteps sounded at the doorway, and Sanchez stuck his head into the room. “Arnie wants to know if there’s a problem.”

  “She’s almost finished,” Malachi said.

  The Latino narrowed his eyes at Callie. “The doc’s explaining the test results to Arnie. He wants to hear what you have to say.”

  Butterflies fluttered through Callie’s stomach. If she contradicted Joe’s assessment, the gunmen would realize one of them was a fraud.

  Malachi grabbed her arm and shoved her toward the door, suddenly needing to assert his authority. Callie would let him save face in front of Sanchez. For all Malachi’s attempt to be tough, he had been raised by a God-fearing woman. Surely some of her prayers had rubbed off on her son.

  The Christmas message could move the hardest heart. Maybe it could allow the youngest gunman to realize the error of his ways. Callie stepped back into the lab and glanced at her brother. If only his heart could change, as well.

  She turned to Joe, their eyes locking. Once again, a sense of hope flowed over her, along with the confidence that God had brought them together for a purpose.

  Arnie shoved the lab sheets into her face. “Tell me what these numbers mean.”

  Keep it simple, an inner voice cautioned. Callie knew that even if she provided a very basic overview of her brother’s condition, without medical training, Joe would be hard-pressed to do the same. Providing contradictory information could prove fatal.

  She took the papers and swallowed the fear that struggled to overpower her. Arnie aimed his gun at Joe’s temple. The cop never blinked but continued to stare at her. His lips curved into a confident grin that made her pulse race and her frustration bubble anew. Why’d he always have to be so sure of himself?

  “Come on, Callie,” Arnie sneered. “Tell us what we need to know.”

  SEVEN

  Joe wished he could reassure Callie. Trust your instincts, he’d tell her if he could. Arnie questioned Joe’s medical expertise. Hopefully, the information Callie provided would wipe out any doubts the gunmen still harbored.

  “Go on,” Arnie insisted.

  Callie swallowed. “Rocky’s dehydrated, and he’s lost blood. He has a scrape on his leg, which is infected. I saw a number of organisms present under the microscope that could produce a serious complication.”

  “As I told you, Arnie, your man needs IV antibiotic therapy as well as hydration,” Joe said, confirming Callie’s findings. “We’re watching the wound on his chest. If he loses much more blood, he’ll need a transfusion, as well.”

  Arnie grunted. “Rocky stays here. There are two of you and one of him. Keep him alive.” He waved the gun between them. “If he dies, you will, too.”

  A smirk crossed his face as he glared at Joe. “I’m a gentleman, Doc. Ladies first.”

  Joe wanted to grab Arnie and squash him like a bug, but he needed to do things by the book. Let the rule of law deal with him. Fact was, Arnie Frazier deserved solitary confinement for the rest of his life. Forget parole.

  Unfortunately, with a .45 waving in the air, Joe had to ignore Arnie’s cocky rhetoric and try to be a voice of reason in the midst of chaos.

  Stepping around the gunman, Joe moved back to the patient’s side. “Callie, if you’ll help me, we’ll check his leg again.”

  Worry pulled at her pretty face, but she appeared to muster an inner strength as she followed Joe’s lead.

  Malachi approached Arnie. “Hey, man, it’s Christmas Eve. Maybe we should split up tomorrow.”

  Sanchez moved closer. “I told my wife and kids I’d be in Juarez late Christmas night.”

  “I’m in charge,” Arnie scoffed. “We stay here until I say otherwise.”

  “Ah, man,” Malachi groused.

  Sanchez muttered something in Spanish.

  While the gunmen bickered, Callie whispered to Joe. “What did you tell Arnie about the lab test results?”

  “The same thing you said.”

  She looked up. “But how did you know what the test results meant?”

  “EMT training while I was in the military. Basic medical triage. Nothing sophisticated or high tech. Evidently, it was enough to satisfy Arnie.”

  “Thank you, God,” Callie whispered.

  “While you’re sending up that thank-you, better ask Him how we can get antibiotics for your brother.”

  “There’s a drugstore not far from here. Arnie might let me get a prescription filled.”

  Joe remembered seeing the pharmacy earlier.

  “Our lab pathologist keeps a prescription pad in his office,” Callie continued. “I’ll write the order for an antibiotic and pain medicine. You’ll need to sign his name.”

  “Arnie won’t let you out of here alone.”

  “I’ll see if Malachi can go with me. He’s not as hardhearted as he likes to pretend.”

  “If you can get away from him, call the cops. Tell them where we are. They’ll send in a SWAT team.”

  She slipped her hand into her lab coat pocket. “I got the scissors.”

  “You’re amazing.” He smiled. Callie was amazing. She was strong and determined and resourceful. Hopefully, she’d find a way to get away from Malachi.

  Joe shoved the scissors into the pocket of his sweatpants, comforted to know he had a weapon. He’d wait until she left the lab before he executed his next move. Hopefully one that would end the hostage situation once and for all.

  Together, he and Callie checked the kid’s blood pressure. Still low.

  “How bad is it?” Arnie asked from across the room.

  “He needs an antibiotic and pain medicine,” Joe insisted. “If I write a prescription, you can send one of your goons with Callie to get it filled at the nearby pharmacy.”

  “The prescription pad is in the lab office. I’ll get it.” She started for the main lab.

  Arnie glared at Malachi. “Go with her. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  As the two left the room, Sanchez adjusted the volume on the television and lowered himself onto the donor chair.

  Joe checked Robbie’s side. The bleeding had eased. He pulled back the sheet that covered his leg. The skin around the scrape appeared swollen and hot, worse than when Joe had first seen the gash just a short while ago.

  Callie returned with the pad and ballpoint pen. “I wrote the prescriptions as you told me to do,” she said for the gunmen’s benefit. “A broad-spectrum antibiotic and high-dose painkiller.” She had also traced the pathologist’s signature lightly in pencil to guide Joe’s hand.

  Arnie and Malachi continued to argue about when to leave Magnolia Medical. Malachi was determined to have Christmas dinner with his mother and family. Arnie seemed increasingly aggravated with the tall, lanky gunman’s plans for Christmas Day.

  “Remember, Callie, get away from Malachi as soon as you can,” Joe whispered. “Call the police. Tell them about the stairway that leads to the back hallway. The phone’s still connected in this room. Tell them to call and let the phone ring twice to warn me they’re ready to charge the lab. I’ll distract the gunmen until they arrive.”

  She nodded, her eyes wide, but she showed no sign of fear. He admired her courage and hated putting her in danger.

  Once he signed the prescriptions, she turned to Malachi. “Are you ready?”

  Arnie held up his hand. “Not so fast.” The ringleader nudged Sanchez. “You go with her. Take the van. If she tries anything, shoot first, ask questions later.”

  Joe’s gut tightened. Callie had developed a rapport with Malachi and had a better chance of getting away from him. Sanchez wouldn’t let down his guard even for a second.

  Sanchez grabbed Callie’s upper arm and shoved her toward the door. “Let’s go, doll.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at her brother then raised her eyes to Joe. He nodded with encouragement, feeling the weight of the scissors in his pocket.

  “Get her out alive,” Joe mumbled, wondering to whom he was addressing the request. Certainly not God. With his track record, the Almighty would never answer Joe’s prayer for help.

  Sanchez’s fingers were tight on Callie’s arm. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t jerk free from his grasp. Joe was counting on her, but she wasn’t sure she could do anything heroic. Hopefully, the pharmacist—a man she knew—would recognize the forged signature and come to her aid.

  Callie remained optimistic until she and Sanchez walked into the drugstore. Within a few seconds, she realized the pharmacist was preoccupied with a cute blonde who seemed to strike his fancy as she waited for her prescription. With his focus on the woman instead of his work, the pharmacist overlooked the incorrect answers Callie gave to some of his questions as well as the Call Police message she wrote instead of her signature at the bottom of the credit card sales receipt. He shoved the slip of paper into the bottom drawer of his cash register without noticing her cryptic plea for help.

  Sanchez hovered close by, his weapon aimed at her from the pocket of his jacket. Children scurried through the store dangerously close to the Latino gunman and his weapon. As much as Callie needed to get help, she couldn’t do anything that would endanger the little ones.

  Her heart plummeted as they left the store and climbed into the Magnolia Medical van. She had the medication Robbie needed, but she hadn’t been able to warn anyone about what was happening at Magnolia Medical, nor had she been able to get free from Sanchez.

  “Grab the drugs,” he ordered when they parked in the rear of the laboratory. He yanked the keys from the ignition and held the gun on her as they both dropped to the pavement.

  When he rounded the front of the van, she took off running, her eyes focused on the wooded area at the far end of the parking lot.

  Sanchez cursed and raced after her, his footfalls slamming against the concrete. “Stop or I’ll shoot,” he shouted.

  He could kill her as easily inside the lab as out here. Callie had to get away. The muscles in her legs burned, and she gasped for air, feeling tightness in her chest.

  Sanchez’s labored breathing sounded in her ear. He was gaining. Calling on an inner strength, she increased her pace. Twenty feet more and she’d enter the wooded area surrounding the lab complex. A small gate would take her out of the fenced compound. Fifty yards beyond that she could see a gas station, where help hopefully waited.

  His hand grabbed her shoulder. She screamed and stumbled to the pavement. Her knees scraped against the cement, ripping her skin open. Gravel cut the palms of her hands when she tried to break her fall.

  Sanchez wove his fingers through her hair and pulled her to her feet. Callie cried out in pain. Hot tears stung her eyes. She’d failed. Joe was counting on her. Robbie wouldn’t last much longer. Their survival depended on Callie, and she’d let them down.

  Oh, God, I’m so sorry, she moaned. Sanchez shoved her toward the lab. If the gunmen killed Joe or Robbie, their deaths would rest on her shoulders. Right now, the thought of losing them and the guilt she would carry was too much for her to bear.

  Joe knew everything would happen fast once Callie contacted the police. The two-ring hang-up phone call would signal that the SWAT team was in place and ready to storm the lab.

  His plan was straightforward. He’d attack Arnie with the scissors before Malachi went for his gun. Caught off guard, the gunmen would be overpowered once the SWAT team stepped through the door.

  Relieved that Callie wouldn’t be in the middle of the milieu, Joe’s heart warmed thinking of her courage. Hopefully she’d gotten free from Sanchez.

  Malachi lounged on the chair Sanchez had vacated and watched an old rerun of a classic Christmas movie. Arnie’s eyes were heavy as he glanced between the overhead screen and the floor where Joe sat. Robbie moaned occasionally and called out twice in pain.

  The phone rang sooner than Joe had expected, and before he could dig the scissors from his pocket. Callie must have gotten away from Sanchez immediately after leaving the lab. Both gunmen looked up, but neither made an attempt to answer the phone.

  “Want me to get that?” Joe stood and stretched.

  “Sit down,” Arnie demanded.

  “I need to use the restroom.”

  The ringleader nodded to Malachi. “Take him to the men’s room. Watch him.”

  Malachi’s eyes were fixed on the TV. He laughed at something one of the characters said as he slid off the chair.

  Arnie glanced at the screen, giving Joe the chance he needed.