His words came thick and slow, like molasses poured through a sieve. “Come on, kid. Emma needs her mom.” Faith looked behind him. Cops were everywhere. Dark blue uniforms blurred as they swept the house, checked the yard. Through the windows, she followed Tactical’s progress from room to room, guns raised, voices calling “Clear” as they found nothing. Competing sirens filled the air. Police cruisers. Ambulances. A fire truck. The call had gone out. Code 30. Officer needs emergency assistance. Three men shot to death. Her baby locked in a shed. Her mother missing. Faith sat back on her heels. She put her head in her shaking hands and willed herself not to cry.
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