The Federal Agent Who Returned to Reclaim Her Shattered Home and Child
The parking lot was dark, save for a single silver sedan parked near the main entrance.
Its engine was running, exhaust curling into the cold air.
I slammed my brakes, sliding sideways into the drop-off lane, blocking the silver sedan’s escape path.
I grabbed my Sig Sauer, kicked my door open, and ran toward the building.
The double glass doors of the entrance were slightly ajar.
A single purple mitten lay on the concrete step, half-covered by the falling snow.
I picked it up, my chest tightening as I recognized the small knitted pattern.
Inside the lobby, the lights were dim, and the reception desk was empty.
“Lily!” I called out, my voice echoing off the tiled walls.
A heavy metallic crash sounded from the rear corridor, followed by the sharp cry of a child.
I sprinted toward the sound, my boots skidding on the polished floor.
I turned the corner and saw the heavy steel fire door at the end of the hall swinging shut.
Beside the door, a woman in a school nurse’s uniform was slumped against the wall, clutching her shoulder.