The caller ID showed Linda’s name.

I hesitated, then swiped the screen to answer.

“Mark,” Linda’s voice came through the speaker, sharp and frantic.

“Do not call this number again, Mother,” I said.

“You need to listen to me,” she hissed. “Luke’s people are looking for Hannah. If you don’t help them pay his debt, they are going to come to my house.”

“That is your problem,” I said. “The kids are safe. Hannah is safe.”

“Where are they?” Linda demanded. “Tell me where you took them!”

Before I could answer, a loud, sharp crash echoed from the front lobby entrance behind me.

The glass of the outer door had shattered.

I spun around.

The shadow of a man was standing in the broken doorway, holding a metal crowbar.

My phone fell to the tiled floor.

The man stepped through the jagged frame of the outer door.

The crowbar in his hand caught the harsh fluorescent light of the lobby.

I scrambled back behind the heavy marble security desk.

My phone lay on the floor, Linda’s voice still tiny and tinny from the speaker.