Chapter Twenty-Three

Iheard Javier scream as the door slammed shut.

“Who called the police?” he shouted at the front of the house.

I had arrived five minutes before the police and made a plan. Maybe I was being reckless, but two people were in danger and I was riding high on the adrenaline from what happened at the restaurant. Javier was unpredictable, so I broke a rear window and climbed into the back of Evelyn Edgar’s home. I landed in the master bedroom where a framed picture of Evelyn, her deceased husband, and their four daughters when they were young greeted me.

I would not let those girls lose their mother.

I texted Villines and Jack that I was in the house. I had told 9-1-1 what I planned to do; they advised me not to. I ignored the dispatcher. Someone had to de-escalate the situation.

I called Villines.

“What the fuck are you doing, Margo? We’re only a minute out.”

“I’m putting you on speaker so you can hear everything,” I whispered. “But I won’t be able to hear you.”

I hoped he could hear through my clothing as I pocketed my phone.

Javier paced and ranted, breaking things, acting like a caged animal. Keeping my back to the wall, I crept silently down the hall until I could better see into the living room.

Evelyn was on the floor. I didn’t see blood and she was conscious. She looked worried, her eyes fixated across the room toward the kitchen, presumably on Javier. I didn’t see Sophia.

I stared at Evelyn, willing her to look at me. Finally, she did. I put my finger to my lips and I saw in her eyes she understood.

“Okay, okay,” Javier was saying. “We’re going to go, baby. You and me. We’ll go out the back.”

“No,” Sophia sobbed from the kitchen. I couldn’t see her and didn’t know how close Javier was to her, whether she was restrained or injured. I would have to wing it.

“Stop fighting me!” Javier said. “It’s going to be you and me. I have a place for us. Then you’ll understand that everything I did, I did for you.We have to go now before the cops show up. Come on!”

I heard Sophia struggling, then I heard the distinct, loud click of a bullhorn. “Javier Escobar, this is the Phoenix Police Department,” the voice said from the front yard. “Come out with your hands in the air.”

“No!” Javier shouted. He stomped from the kitchen to the living room, holding Sophia close to him, the fingers of his left hand tight around her bicep, his right hand holding the gun to her side. He angled his head so he could peer through the blinds. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!”

I feared he was going to start shooting. The police wouldn’t fire into the house knowing there were two hostages, but if Javier felt trapped, he might kill Sophia.

I was about to expose myself and try to de-escalate, when Javier said, “Okay, I have an idea.”

I backed away again, because he sounded hopeful, and if he thought he could escape, that bought me a little time.

Javier seemed to have forgotten Evelyn was in the room. He walked past her to the kitchen. If he had looked down the hall, he would have seen me, but he was focused on Sophia, who he still clutched hard to his side. As soon as they were out of view, I motioned for Evelyn to come toward me. She crawled slowly, trying not to attract attention. I whispered into my phone, “One hostage going out rear window,” then nodded to her and motioned down the hall.

She understood, pulled herself up off the floor, and walked briskly to her room.

One down, one to go.

“Yes!” Javier shouted, excited.

“Stop it, Javier! Please,” Sophia begged.

I couldn’t see them and moved down the hall toward the front of the house. Looking around the corner and through the dining room, I saw Javier grabbing bottles and rags from under the sink.

“We’ll just create this diversion, see? Then we’ll run away and be together. Sophia, from the minute I saw you I knew it was you and me forever.”

He turned on the gas stove and put paper towels and rags on the flames. What the hell was he doing? He poured something liquid on the burners.

An explosion rocked the kitchen.

I ran forward as Sophia stumbled from the kitchen, coughing, her hair smoking. I grabbed her and pushed her to the carpet, covering her body, not knowing if she was on fire or if Javier was going to shoot her in the back.

The front door crashed open and I stayed down. Smoke filled the house and I didn’t know if the whole place was going to explode, or just the kitchen. Suddenly, big hands grabbed me, pulled me to my feet, half pushed, half carried me outside. From my clouded vision, I saw another man pick up Sophia and follow us. I held on to him, unable to see through the smoke, as we ran outside. As soon as I was on the porch, I stumbled and another cop picked me up and carried me down the stairs.

“I can walk,” I said while coughing.

But the cop didn’t put me down until we were on the street, behind a police car. The other rescuer put Sophia down next to me. She clutched me and I held her tight.

“What happened?” Villines was saying to me. My ears were still ringing and I could barely hear him. I gratefully accepted his water bottle, then coughed, clearing my throat.

“He—Javier—was doing something with the stove,” I said. “He said a diversion.”

Villines looked to the front of the house. Four cops brought out Javier. His face was blistered and black, his clothes smoldering, but he was very much alive.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. He was alive, but he would be spending many years in prison.

“You’re safe,” I told Sophia.

“What’s going to happen?”

“Justice.”