Caleb took another step back, his back hitting the concrete wall.

“If my mother finds out you have that…” he started.

“She already knows I’m looking,” I said. “But she doesn’t know I have this yet.”

Sophia watched us, her breathing shallow and ragged.

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know, Caleb,” I said, taking another step forward.

“I can’t,” Caleb whimpered. “She’ll kill me.”

“I don’t care about your mother,” I said. “I care about my wife, and I care about my son.”

Caleb’s eyes darted toward the door, looking for an escape.

I raised my pistol and aimed it directly at his chest.

“You have ten seconds to tell me where they are keeping them,” I said.

Caleb’s hands began to shake so hard the flashlight slipped from his fingers.

It hit the concrete floor with a dull clang, rolling toward my boots.

The bright beam of the flashlight illuminated the dust motes dancing in the cold air.

I squeezed the grip of my gun, my finger resting light but firm against the trigger.

“One,” I said.