They ran to his front door. He pulled her behind him and then started pounding on the wood. “Tyler?!” A pause. “Fuck it. Take my gun and cover me.”

“Got it.”

He took a three-step running start and shoved his shoulder into the wood. The door splintered but didn’t cave in or fall down. But the hole was enough for him to stick his hand in and undo the lock.

Rina gave him the gun as he opened the door and turned on the room light. “Tyler?” The living room was empty, but it had been tossed. He continued to scream the kid’s name. “Are you there?”

No response.

“Stay behind me.” As if to prove the point, he shoved her until she was hidden by his back. “I need to clear the rooms.”

Again, he yelled out Tyler’s name. In the ensuing silence, he heard a distant motor come to life. “Rina, call in a silver Hyundai Accent van. And no, I don’t have the license number, but if it’s in the area, I want it stopped.”

“I’m on it.”

Quickly, Decker went through the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom: all empty. He went to the spare bedroom and by the time he hit the main bedroom, he could hear the distant sirens. He flipped on the lights. “Tyler! Are you here?” A pause. “Answer me, buddy.”

They both heard the groan at the same time, but it was Rina who saw blood seeping out from the bullet-ridden closet door.

It was locked.

Again, Decker shoved it with his shoulder. It didn’t budge. He took the crowbar and after three lumber jack swings, he managed to splinter the plywood. He unlocked the bolt, swung the door open, and pulled down the string to turn on the closet light.

The kid was crouched in the corner, his eyes wide open, his face covered in blood. Decker bent down, his eyes focused on the splatter on his temple. When he touched it, Tyler flinched.

A graze wound, thank God. Decker said, “Can you hear me?”

The kid didn’t respond, either frozen with fear or something worse. He was clutching his arm. “Let me see what’s going on, buddy.”

Decker had to peel his hand away to see the damage. He was hit with a through and through: a small hole in the front with a bigger exit hole. It seemed to be a flesh wound but he couldn’t tell for certain.

“Can you hear me?” He touched the kid’s face and locked eyes with him. “Can you hear me, Tyler? Answer me, please!”

“I’m woozy . . .” he panted out.

“You can talk.” To Rina, Decker shouted, “I hear the ambulance. Go direct them.”

“Right away.”

To Tyler, he said, “Can you move your fingers?”

He winced. “Yeah . . .”

“What about your toes? Can you wiggle your toes?”