My next move wasn’t really a decision at all.

With each passing second, the statistics for recovering Len unharmed worsened.

I checked the watch I wore on my wrist—only forty minutes had passed. I prayed they made it sooner rather than later.

My hand hovered over the handle of the door before I grabbed it and pushed it open. My weapon was raised once more, leading me into the warehouse.

The second I walked through that single door leading inside, I saw her. Len stood with a knife to her throat, her eyes pleading with me. I knew it was a trap, but there was nothing I could do.

I had to save Len.

“I knew you’d come,” Mallory hissed.

Her voice vile, and the knife that had killed so many at the hands of the Coastal Killer remained pressed to Len’s throat. I knew if we checked it against every last victim, it would match.

“Don’t hurt her,” I said, pointing my gun at Mallory.

I didn’t have the shot. She was using Len like a human shield. There is no way for me to fire without potentially hitting Len.

“Let her go,” I demanded, keeping my voice as even as possible.

I dealt with many hostage negotiations; I knew what to do, but it was hard to keep focused on the task with Len’s life at stake. It was easier when I didn’t know the victims.

“No,” Mallory snapped. “You can’t take her from me.”

There it was: the fear, the idea I would take Len from her, that Len belonged to her.

“I won’t do that. We both want her unharmed,” I said, planting the idea in her head.

“You did this to her,” Mallory snapped.

The knife moved a little, and I saw Len tense at the sharp edge touching her skin.

“It’s me you want,” I said.

“You tried to take her from me. I won’t let you do it again,” Mallory said.

“I’ll do whatever; just let her go,” I said, keeping my voice even.

I tried not to let the growing panic show on my face. Len needed me to remain focused. If I could reason with her, show her what she was doing would only harm Len, there was a chance.

There were only two endings to this all.

She would either Len go, her love and obsession enough to protect Len’s life. Or, Mallory would kill her, her possessiveness enough to convince her if she couldn’t have her, no one could.

I couldn’t let the second happen.

“Put down your gun,” Mallory demanded.

“How do I know you won’t hurt her? How can I be sure you’ll let her go?” I asked.

I knew it was a useless question. There was no way I would ever know for certain.

“You’ll have to trust me,” Mallory said.

Laughable.