A Secret Worth Keeping

Chapter 3

Hope's POV: I breathed heavily, gun still pointed at the man on the floor. I could hear Josie's frantic questions over the wire, but I let the smell of expended gunpowder clear before answering, surveying the damage without emotion except for the light crinkle between my eyebrows. "I'm here, Josie", I answered.

"Oh, thank goodness", she sighed in relief as I shook my head, not in annoyance at my friend's attachment, but at the scene before me.

"We were too late this time. Someone got to the Lamberts before we did. They're dead", I told her, stepping over the prone body of the presumed assassin and approaching the body of the man that I had seen in the photos. Even someone without medical training could tell that the man was dead. He had been shot, executed really, with a .38. "Wife too", I added, looking over at the heel that I could see poking out at the foot of the bed.

I stood and walked over to the second body, feeling hot anger twisting in my gut. I had seen many bodies in my line of work. I wasn't programmed to feel empathy for those who were hostile, those I was forced to take out, but anyone could see the terror in the dead woman's eyes.

I knelt down, closing her eyes respectfully. I didn't know these people, but my instincts told me that this had been a senseless deed. These people hadn't deserved to die. But did any of our numbers really deserve to die?  Sure, Malcolm was the leader of a street gang, but did that mean he deserved what I did to him?  

"I called Milton", Josie spoke up, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Hopefully the police can-"

"Josie, didn't you say these two had a daughter", I asked, realizing that I haven't cleared the room. Drawling my weapon again, I moved around the bed, this time taking the time to analyze the scene.

I was unfazed by scenes like this. My time with my family had left me with a default mode that kept me alert and inquisitive without the mess of emotion...and yet I couldn't help but feel a rawness in the back of my throat as I surveyed the room and hoped that the girl was far, far away from this violence.

There were two large suitcases squeezed side by side under the large, single bed, but there was a small table in the corner that had a smaller, pink suitcase sitting on top. The drawings by a child were already taped up on one side of the room, and several toys and stuffed animals were set up for a tea party on the rug. There was a beautiful black and red dress set out at the end of the bed as if the child had a special occasion to go to later, but now the little dress was splattered with blood.

I checked under the bed, behind the dresser, and in the closet.

There was no child.

"Please tell me that you didn't find her", Josie pleaded, her voice tight.

I scowled, glancing over at the masked man. I usually enjoyed shooting people, but this guy could've given me information if he hadn't been intent on running into my warning shot. I knelt down to retrieve my bullet, carefully lacerating the wound with the assassin's own blade.

"I didn't find her, but something's off. This is all so...", I trailed off, cringing as static filled the line. I squinted at the window as I waited for it to clear. "Josie", I called, scowling and holstering my gun before carefully stepping over the bodies and closing the door.

Now that I have erased myself from the scene, there was nothing more I could do in there, but leave it to the police.

A quick peek at the drawers rendered nothing. Lambert's wallet and keys appeared to have been left untouched on the nightstand, and I didn't want to be here when Milton showed up with the detectives.

I glanced down the hallway, noticing that the entire floor seemed very quiet.

"Josie, are you there? I couldn't find the girl. Either she was kidnapped or...", I trailed off.