At first, the room appears to be empty. His heart sinks. Then he takes another step and catches a glimpse of red. Moxie is tucked on the far side of the marble worktable that sits in the center of the room. Judging by the empty brown paper candy cups strewn around her, she has polished off at least a dozen candies.

From behind the finger he holds to his lips, Parker whispers, “Moxie!”

“Parker!” Her eyes go wide. She jumps to her feet and hugs him. With his hands bound, he can’t return the hug. When her slender arms go around his waist, his eyes get wet. He angrily blinks away the tears. Why couldn’t his little sister be outside and safe? Instead she is only a few yards away from a dead man and killers with guns.

When she steps back, she tilts her head. “What’s happening, Parker? Why are you tied up?”

He taps his finger against his lips again. “We need to be really quiet, Moxie. There are bad men outside. Did you see them?”

“I wanted a free candy sample, and then there was all these loud noises!” She holds her hands over her ears to demonstrate. “Everybody started running. The candy lady pushed me in here and said I had to be quiet and hide. And she said I could have all the candy I wanted.”

Moxie’s only experience with death has been a robin that bounced off their living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over Lake Oswego. That day, she begged Parker to make the suddenly boneless bird fly again. How will she react when she sees what’s outside this room?

He can’t let that happen.

His eyes go to the marble-topped worktable. It holds empty gold cardboard boxes of various sizes, white wrapping paper, and stacks of ruffled brown paper cups. And a large knife, presumably for cutting up samples.

If he cuts his zip ties and the killers find out, they’ll kill him. Screw it. He grabs the knife and manages to slide the blade, pointing toward him, between his wrists. With a few contortions, he saws through one of the loops. A few seconds later, he’s free.

Now that he’s found Moxie, what should he do? Going back into the hall is clearly not a good option. He has to keep her as far away as possible from the men with guns.

He turns in a circle. The ceiling is made of white acoustical tiles held on metal rails. Even if he could get her up there, the tiles don’t look strong enough to hold Moxie’s fifty pounds.