Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

J acob couldn't cross the room fast enough. The loving look in Emily's eyes and his curiosity over how her interaction went with Phoebe lengthened his strides.

"Lord Warren, I beg your pardon."

The Dorsham butler intercepted him halfway. Jacob wanted to ignore the man, but an unsettled inkling caused him to stop. He leaned in to hear better over the music and hum of the crowd.

"Your butler is here, my lord. He claims it's urgent."

"Urgent?" The warmth seemed to flow from the room, leaving him cold.

"I shall have you hear it from him directly, my lord. Follow me."

Jacob shot Emily an apologetic glance and followed the butler toward the foyer.

Had something happened to Christian? A fall down the stairs? Thrown from his pony? No. It was too dark to go riding.

God, please let him be safe.

The crowd near the door had parted to let the butler and Jacob pass.

Maslow stood near the double front doors. His hands rested stiff by his sides, and a look of grave concern lined the butler's normally stoic face.

Lady Athol was nowhere in sight, but her butler's voice carried. "Lord Warren, come quick. Something terrible has happened."

Not to Christian. Please, Lord, not Christian . The room fell out of focus as Jacob reached the butler. The music from the ballroom sounded off rhythm, and the rumble of the guests lowered to a muffle. He focused on Maslow's voice, but it came across slow and garbled. "Master Christian and Lady Athol have been abducted."

"Abducted! How? By whom?"

"What?" Emily gasped and skidded to a stop by Jacob's side.

Jacob hadn't known she'd followed him. He hooked her arm, drawing her close to his side like a bulwark as the room's sounds returned to normal. They faced Maslow together.

The butler's hands visibly shook. "The woman was dressed in men's garb. God bless Lady Athol. She tried not to let her take him. Volunteered herself in exchange, but the woman only wanted young Master Christian."

Jacob gripped Maslow's elbow. "What happened? Where is he?"

"He and Lady Athol were returning to the stables. The woman rode over and scooped up Master Christian, setting him on her horse. But Lady Athol stalled her, getting her to talk. The woman said you killed the man she loved, and she would take something that you loved."

Jacob leaned on Maslow, for his knees couldn't support his weight. The elderly butler gripped Jacob's arms, holding him up.

"Who was killed?" Emily rounded on Jacob.

Jacob released Maslow. "Mr. Welsh, my steward, was shot robbing the Dorsham coach. His accomplice was a woman. She must have recognized me"—he swallowed and broke the first rule of espionage—"undercover as the Dorshams' driver."

He couldn't focus on Emily's reaction, not when Christian was in peril. He'd deal with the repercussions later.

But how did Lady Benton know about Christian? Had she been spying on him? Nora said she'd come calling, but it wasn't like Nora to give away a family secret. She knew they weren't announcing that he was Christian's father.

"Undercover," Emily whispered and peered at him dazed. "And she kidnapped Christian." The pitch of Emily's voice rose with each word.

"And Lady Athol," Maslow added. "She made the woman take her with them."

Jacob stepped back, raking both hands through his hair. Lord, not Christian. Protect him. He's a little boy. "Where did she take them?"

"They headed east."

"Did anyone try to follow?"

"The head groom, but he stopped when the woman started shooting at him."

Emily clasped a hand over her mouth.

"What's going on?" Robert stepped into the foyer.

"Christian and Aunt Louisa have been kidnapped."

"Thunder and turf!"

"I will find them." Jacob spoke the words, solidifying his resolve. He'd search every corner from here to London and farther if need be. He'd find his son, but the sooner they acted, the better. Clues can be accidentally erased and details forgotten, as he knew all too well from his job and past search for his son.

"Take my coach." The marquis gestured to the door. "Go. I'll inform the magistrate and gather Nora and Christian's parents. We'll ride in their carriage. We'll be right behind you."

Jacob aided Maslow out the door. "I'll need you to give me more details on the way."

"I'm coming." Emily didn't give him a chance to say no. She scooted around them and instructed a footman to have the carriage brought around.

The team of horses arrived, and Jacob aided Emily inside the coach. "Maslow, ride with us."

"But milord, it's not my station, and I rode a horse from the Athol stables."

"I need you to recall everything in detail." Jacob helped the butler into the carriage. "Send a groom for the horse later."

Jacob climbed in and settled next to Emily. Maslow relayed what happened once more.

Emily crossed her arms and hugged herself. "I keep picturing Christian hopping on the fence rail to watch the horses, cheering and shouting huzzah as his toy sailboat won the race." A sob escaped her lips. "And his little cherub face as he prayed to God to make us all family."

Jacob wrapped an arm about her shoulders and drew her to his side. "I will find him." The strain in his voice didn't hide his intensity—the vehemence of a father's love.

She shifted to face him, and he felt the surety in her gaze. "I know you will." She cupped his cheek. "You'd sacrifice everything for him. You're his father, and you're a good one."

A good father? He never should have left Christian alone. He should have skipped the party and stayed by his side, especially after the Dorsham's carriage robbery. What kind of father put his son in danger—got him kidnapped? A tremble ran through Jacob.

"You turned over every stone to find him the first time. I've no doubt that you'll move mountains to find him again. But this time, you're not in this alone. Christian is my brother, and he's God's son too. We'll find him together."

Jacob's arm tightened, crushing her into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. In a choked whisper, he repeated, "Together."

She clung to him for a long moment, and he drew from her strength, savoring comfort, and willing the coachman to drive the team faster.

"Mr. Welsh!" Emily shouted the name into his shoulder before pulling back. "I remember now where I recognized your steward. The woman said you shot the man she loved. I drew his picture. He was besotted with Sarah." She blinked at Jacob. "I sketched a picture of Christian's mother before she birthed Christian. She didn't know I was hiding in the tall grass peeking between the two tree trunks. She and a Mr. Welsh sat on the bridge." She clasped her hands to her chest. "I saw him with you at Brownstone hall but couldn't put my finger on where I'd seen him."

"Welsh." Jacob spit the name and fell back against the coach's cushions. "Sarah has Christian."

It made sense.

Who else would know about Christian? Sarah had blond hair. But highway robbery?

What would possess her to do such a thing?

She was married to a duke. Jacob knew about the Duke of Charlton's long nights at the gambling table, but the Charlton coffers were vast. If he was in that deep, the news would've been whispered all over town. Gossip like that had a way of spreading.

Had the duke wasted the family fortune? Had Sarah faced creditors and turned to Welsh to aid her in thieving?

The horses pulled through the gate of Brownstone Hall, the place where Christian and his aunt had been abducted. If he could find a set of tracks, he might be able to overtake them before they located a place to hide or someone got hurt. He prayed for Christian and Aunt Louisa's safety. The thought of Christian afraid, injured, or worse nearly destroyed him.

The small staff gathered on the front steps. Jacob threw open the coach door before the carriage came to a complete halt and yelled for two horses to be saddled. Time was of the essence. He couldn't wait for his brother or the magistrate to arrive. He aided Emily and Maslow from the coach, addressing Maslow. "She'll surely send a ransom note. When it arrives, give it to the marquis and do what he instructs. We're going to take advantage of the element of surprise while we have it." He turned to the staff. "The marquis, marchioness, and the rest of the Thompson family aren't far behind us. Prepare for their arrival and arrange a vigil to pray for your mistress and Master Christian's safe return."

Jacob jogged past them into the house and down the hall to his office. He patted where he'd tucked his pistol away in his coat pocket and removed a blunderbuss from his side drawer, checking to ensure it was loaded, before tucking a few spare lead balls in his pocket. He rounded the corner, slamming into Emily, and gripped her elbows to steady her.

She scurried alongside him back down the hall and into the drive.

He grabbed a lantern. "We'll need to search for tracks to see which way they went." He set the lantern aside to help her mount her horse before lifting the lamp again.

"The Duke of Charlton has a holding in the northern Cotswolds, but I can't imagine Sarah would take them there." Maslow had said they'd been returning to the stables. He gripped his horse's reins, and holding the lantern out, he examined the ground for prints.

"Can you make out anything?" Emily asked.

"There's been too much activity here. I think this might be Aunt Louisa's boot. It appears fresh." He waved her forward. Passing through the gate, Jacob stopped to look left and right. "Maslow said they turned east." Sure enough, a fresh dent along the roadside confirmed their direction. "I found their tracks." Jacob mounted his horse, and they rode until the path forked.

He jumped down and searched the ground, but the dirt was hard-packed.

Emily remained on her horse and bowed her head. He heard her whispered prayers for God's wisdom and silently sent up one of his own. The well-traveled ground offered little information. Please, Lord. I need You. Christian and Aunt Louisa need You.

A gentle breeze whispered through the underbrush, and something caught Jacob's eye. A tiny thread danced on an elderberry branch. He marched that way and picked it off to examine. God bless Aunt Louisa. Holding it up in triumph, he returned to the horses and showed Emily. "It's from my aunt's shawl." He pointed to the north. "They went this way."

"That's the road to Chipping Norton." Emily spurred her horse.

About a mile later, the path split once more. The tracks headed back toward town, but this time, there was no shawl string to confirm. Why that direction? Was Sarah misdirecting them? Blast. She knew he worked for the crown. She'd seen him posing as the Dorsham's driver. He might have fooled the Dorshams, but Sarah would have recognized him.

"This is all my fault." Jacob slowed to determine if they were following the right tracks. He rubbed his chest, unable to lessen the tightness.

Emily pulled her horse close, her thigh brushing his. The innocent touch offered him comfort, but guilt weighed his heart.

"You are not responsible for Sarah's actions. She is a broken woman. I overheard Mama telling Papa how Sarah's father treated her."

Pointing to an imprint, he said, "I don't see any other tracks, so we might as well keep going." He spurred his horse to a gallop but couldn't ignore the niggling that they were going the wrong way. Emily stayed on his flank.

Jacob had seen the bruises on Sarah. She'd been physically abused, and Jacob hadn't been the first person with whom she'd been intimate. He suspected she'd been violated by her father—the man who was supposed to protect her—but Jacob hadn't dared to ask. He'd been so afraid that Sarah would push him out of her life. In the end, she'd shut him out, anyway.

He slowed once more, checking the direction of the hoof prints, but the tracks blended in with others.

Secrets were relationship-killers, and if they were to have a life together, it was past time he disclosed the full truth. "I'm an agent for the Home Office."

She nodded, but unspoken questions lingered. "Undercover."

"I joined for access of the crown's resources to locate Christian, but now my job has jeopardized him. I was assigned to stop the highwaymen. I was working undercover as the Dorsham's driver when they were robbed. Sarah saw me. My associate shot Welsh."

Emily's lips parted, and she exhaled a breath. "Then I thank God that He has given you the skills to locate Christian and bring him home safely."

By Jove. He loved this small but mighty woman beside him, but time was wasting. He must focus. "Sarah might have tried to get us to lose the trail by leading us in the wrong direction. The last tracks we saw were headed back toward town, but where, exactly?" He closed his eyes to think.

"We saw Sarah, Lady Benton, and Miss Dorsham at an inn."

"The Rose and Thistle." He looked at Emily and she nodded. "If they're not there, perhaps we can get information."

He spurred his horse to a gallop and glanced back to ensure Emily could keep up, but she stayed on his horse's flank. As they approached the center of town, he slowed their pace as to not draw attention. He rapidly formed a plan.

They stopped in front of the inn.

He helped Emily dismount and pressed a coin into a groom's hand to take care of their horses. "Tell me, young fellow, did you happen to see two women and a young boy, age five?"

The groom shook his head jostling his cap. "Sorry, guvnor. I just returned to my post."

Jacob tucked Emily's hand into the crook of his arm and strolled into the inn as though they were man and wife.

The innkeeper's brows raised at Emily. Did he recognize the vicar's daughter? It didn't matter. If all went according to plan, they'd get Christian and Aunt Louisa back, and he'd get a special license to marry Emily posthaste. "We're here to visit a guest of yours. Which room is Lady Charlton's?"

The innkeeper's jowls lowered as he frowned. "I'm afraid the duchess checked ow-oot of her room several days ago." The man spoke with a thick Scottish brogue.

Jacob stifled a curse. Something Lord Benton said in his drunken state bubbled to the surface. Lucile's the mastermind. They do her bidding.

"I apologize." He shook his head and flashed the innkeeper an I'm-sorry grin. "It's Lady Benton we seek."

"Och. Lady Benton has also left us. Packed up and left all dressed for the evening, but she's paid her bill and tab in full."

Blast .

Emily's shoulders drooped.

The rumble of a cheer rang in the back hall. "Is the back room open?"

"Indeed, milord." The owner gestured. "You know the way."

He felt Emily's questioning gaze and patted her arm to reassure her as they strolled the back hallway. He drew aside the curtain and scanned the three round tables filled with cards and piles of coins. The patrons he sought sat at the table closest the bar.

Emily stiffened. "We don't have time for games."

He leaned and whispered in her ear. "This is how I gain information."

A chair opened up at the table next to Lady Anne. This was his chance. He strolled over with Emily on his arm and tossed his change purse onto the table. "Mind if I bring my luck to the table?"

The patrons glanced up from their cards and eyed the coins spilling from his bag.

Lady Anne leaned to the man frowning to her right, "He's the brother of the marquis, with large pockets to let."

"We'll be happy to take your money." Mr. Klay, the same man who'd been seated next to Lady Benton the first time Jacob had entered the back room, chuckled and gestured to the open chair. "Sit wherever you like. The game's Macao." He nodded to the dealer. "Deal Lord Warren in."

Jacob sat and Emily positioned herself behind his elbow. Cards flew across the table and high stakes were placed. He pushed a stack of coins toward the center of the table and heard Emily's quick intake of breath. He gestured her closer and whispered, "Don't look at my hand. Your expressions will give us away."

She nodded and straightened.

The bar maid brought drinks to the other players, but Jacob declined. He forced a casual pose although his mind couldn't relax. He drew Lady Anne on his right into conversation, getting her laughing and setting her at ease. "I'm surprised you're not with Lady Benton."

"Nay." She reached for her glass of gin and drank it with one gulp. "I've had my fill of country parties. I'm ready to return to the city."

"When will you see her again?"

"A few days. She's organizing a hunting party at some place in Chipping Norton, but I'm invited to her next soiree this weekend in London."

Emily shifted at his side, and he willed her to be patient.

Mr. Klay drew a card and cursed under his breath. "I enjoy a good hunt, but Lady Benton told me I wasn't invited. I guess I'm too common for the duke's lodge."

That was it. The Duke of Charlton's hunting cabin in Chipping Norton. It had to be where Sarah had taken Christian and planned to meet up with Lady Benton. Jacob stood and tossed his only card into the pile, winning the round. "I'm afraid I must be going." He hooked Emily's arm. "That was an enlightening game. Keep the winnings."

He and Emily exited the room, strode down the hallway, out the entrance, and toward the stables.

Jacob removed another coin from his pocket and flipped it to the stable groom. "Here's another shilling. Run to Brownstone Hall and tell the marquis and magistrate Lord Warren is at the Charlton's hunting lodge in Chipping Norton." He and Robert had been invited on a hunt there a few years back, so Robert would know exactly where to go. "Understood?"

The boy stared at the shiny coin in his palm and nodded. "Yes, guvnor."

"Be quick about it."

He handed them the horses' reins and sprinted down the road.

Jacob gave Emily a leg up onto her horse. "What you saw in there—that lifestyle was the old me, but it's gone."

She cupped his cheek. "God turns things around for His good. Let's go get Christian."

He kicked a leg over his horse and slid into the saddle, spurring his steed to a full gallop. They raced in silence the twenty minutes to Chipping Norton, stopping only to give the horses a short rest. He signaled for Emily to slow as they drew near the rustic cabin and dismounted. Emily did the same with his aid, and they led their horses into the woods and tied them to a tree as to not be spotted.

Jacob instructed Emily to crouch low and stay behind him as they skirted the tree line toward the lodge. A lantern burned in an upstairs window. From what he could remember, it was the duke's chamber. He tried not to rush into the cabin, but his son was in that room. He knew it.

They needed to be careful. Pausing, he surveilled the premises for danger. Only two horses were in the stable, one for Sarah and the one Aunt Louisa rode. The rest of the house, other than the front bedchamber, remained dark. He couldn't allow Emily, Christian, or his aunt to get hurt. He whispered for Emily to stay put, but she shook her head.

"I'm going. He's my brother, and I promised to protect him."

He handed her his pistol. "Do you know how to use this?"

"I do."

Of course. If her brother had taught her to wield a bow and arrow like Robin Hood, he'd surely taught her to use a gun too. He pressed a finger to his lips, telling Emily to remain quiet as they approached and entered the cabin through the servants' entrance.

The kitchens were dark except for the light the moon provided. He tread lightly into the back hall and up the back servant stairs.

Upstairs at the end of the hall, light fanned from under the cracks in the door, and a mumble of female voices could be heard.

A narrower door stood before the last one. He opened it and discovered a linen closet.

"Stay here until I say it's safe to come out," Jacob whispered, guiding her inside.

Emily shook her head. "I should go with you."

"I need to protect Christian and Aunt Louisa. My focus must not be divided." He gave her forehead a quick kiss, prayed for her safety—and that of the others here he loved so much—and then backed into the hallway. "I hope to only be a moment." He closed the door to a mere crack.

With his back to the wall and his blunderbuss at the ready, he moved to stand beside the door.

Emily remained quiet inside the closet, but she peeked through the crack.

He shook his head, telling her to inch away.

She did, as though she read his mind.

Voices carried, and Jacob leaned his ear closer to the door crack. Aunt Louisa spoke. "Please let us go. Another wrong doesn't make a right. I understand what you've been through. I suffered greatly at the hands of my husband."

Sarah's bitter laugh followed. "Men are egotistical, irresponsible brutes. Every man who was supposed to protect me did the opposite."

The dagger of her words pierced his heart.

He should have shown more restraint. He should never have taken advantage of her as he had. He'd fancied himself in love, but if he'd truly loved her, he wouldn't have bedded her. He'd have honored and respected her.

He'd failed.

His offer to provide for her under the protection of marriage had come too late in Sarah's mind because he'd already wronged her.

"I know Lord Charlton hurts you," Aunt Louisa said. "I see the signs—the high collars, the long sleeves, the skin-colored creams, all methods to hide the bruises. There were more days than not when I couldn't show my face, lest the town know my situation. It was only by the grace of God that I survived."

"God." Sarah scoffed. "He doesn't exist."

"I've been in your position," Aunt Louisa said. "I know you feel alone, but I can help you."

"I've learned to help myself." Sarah snorted. "And speaking of such, I'm famished and going to see what the duke has stocked for rations. Stay put."

Jacob jerked back and pressed flat against the wall.

Sarah flung the door open.

Jacob swiveled and pointed his gun at her chest.

She gasped and backed into the room, swinging the door to close it. But he caught it with his foot.

Sarah wore men's garb—as she had the night she'd robbed the Dorsham's coach. Aunt Louisa was seated in a chair with her hands tied on the left side of the room, and Christian lay asleep on the bed in the far right corner.

"Are you and Christian unharmed?" Jacob asked his aunt, flicking his gaze between her and Sarah.

"We're fine." She issued him a stiff nod.

Sarah's face crinkled with malice. "Of course, you'd come for him ." She gestured to Christian, who stirred and opened his eyes. "You never cared for me, only for him."

"Papa?" Christian rubbed his eyes and blinked.

Jacob held his hand up, palm out. "Stay there, son. Don't move."

She lowered the pitch of her voice, mimicking Jacob in his most desperate moments. "‘Where is he? I want to see him.'" Sarah's lips curled into a snarl. "Men are all the same. You want what you want and will stop at nothing to get it."

"I wanted us to be a family."

"You couldn't support a family, and I would have been cut off."

"I would have found a way."

"Scraping for pennies?" She side-stepped toward the bed. "While I'd be stuck with a brat in some London rookery."

"Don't move." He jabbed the gun in her direction.

She slid another half step toward Christian. "I needed a better option."

"Sarah." He growled her name as a warning, not wanting to hurt her, especially not in front of Christian. She was still his mother, but he couldn't risk endangering Christian or Aunt Louisa. Despite all Sarah had put him through, he still saw the wounded young woman he'd held in his arms. His romantic feelings for her died long ago, but God still laid compassion on Jacob's heart. If he could change, then there was still hope for Christian's mother. Perhaps he could stall until help arrived. Keep her talking. He inched closer toward Christian to try to block her path. "And being a duchess was the better option?" Even so many years later, he couldn't keep the biting tone from his voice. God forgive me .

"No one pities a poor duchess. Oh, the irony." She spit the word with disdain, and her eyes flared like blue fire. "The duke not only lays hands on me, he cut me off. I have no funds—aside from what he provides when he wants to parade me around like his show pony."

She pulled a pistol from her pocket and lunged onto the bed, scooping an arm around Christian and jerking him to her side. She sat on the mattress's edge and pointed the barrel end at his temple. "I'm still fighting to survive."

Christian stared at Jacob, eyes wide and bottom lip quivering.

"Be brave, son." He held Christian's gaze but concentrated on Sarah. Could he shoot her before she shot Christian? Too risky. He should have pinned her to the floor when she first opened the door. Why hadn't he? You're a failure, that's why. His father's words rang in his head, but the memory of what Emily said countered them. You're a good father, and I thank God that He has given you the skills to locate Christian and bring him home safely.

A sureness filled him. Lord, You trained me for this moment. Guide my words and actions.

"Sarah, you don't want to hurt your own child."

"Lower your weapon and kick it over." Her voice was cold. When he didn't move fast enough, she pressed the metal against Christian's head, wrinkling his skin. "Do it!"

Christian whimpered.

"All right." Jacob raised his fingers but kept the blunderbuss in the curve of his hand. He laid the gun on the ground and kicked it purposefully. The weapon slid across the floor and under the bed where Christian and Sarah sat.

"What have we here?"

Jacob recognized Lady Benton's voice but didn't dare take his gaze off Sarah and Christian. "A family reunion. How sweet."

With his hands up, Jacob pivoted to see Lady Benton and the shiny gleam of the pistol she pointed at him. He willed Emily to stay in the closet until the situation was under control. Or the whole thing was over.

What would that look like?

He didn't want to think about it, especially witnessing the spiteful pout on Sarah's face and the wicked twist to Lady Benton's lips.

Lord, I need You.

Lady Benton glanced toward the corner, where Aunt Louisa sat tied. "Lady Athol? What a surprise. I didn't think you left Brownstone Hall. I'm honored to be part of your first and last appearance in public." She frowned at Sarah. "Can't you do anything right? First, you get your accomplice killed, and now you've brought more witnesses who can identify us."

"It was your plan." Sarah's grip on Christian tightened.

"I instructed you to bring Lord Warren and his son to me. That was all."

Jacob needed to keep her talking until he could devise a plan. "I know you can't get enough of me, but why Christian?"

"Oh, I will have my fill of you. Or rather, you of me." Lady Benton's scathing look told him she didn't just mean in bed. "Your son's going to come and live with me as my ward." She smiled at Christian, who pressed farther back into the pillow.

Jacob shook his head. "He's not?—"

"I wasn't finished!" Her shout made both Christian and Sarah jump. "You, Lord Warren, will be my inside man at the Home Office. You will get me whatever intelligence I request, and"—her gaze roved over the length of Jacob's body and back up again—"anything else I might desire. Otherwise, your son will disappear again. Maybe forever."

Jacob's heart slammed into his throat, choking out his ability to breathe. Not Christian. He'd do anything to keep him from harm. That was the problem.

And Lady Benton knew it.

"I want my share." Sarah raised her chin and stared Lady Benton down. "I'm leaving on the next ship to the continent. I want my money now."

A snide chuckle passed through Lady Benton's lips. "You've lost your usefulness to me. It won't be long before you're identified. I have word that Welsh confided to his sister about his love for you and your plans. You, darling, are a liability."

Lady Benton aimed her weapon at Sarah.

"No!" Jacob launched himself at the bed, covering half of Sarah and pushing Christian out of harm's way. A shot blasted, and pain seized his shoulder.

He let out a growl of rage.

He pushed up, refusing to look at the wound for fear he'd faint.

Christian muffled a cry against the bedside, but he was alive. Thank You, Lord! Jacob cupped his face, said, "Be of good courage," and pushed him under the bed.

A metal object clattered to the floor—Sarah's gun. Jacob twisted to look at her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and filled with confusion and pain.

"You jumped in front of me. After all I did to you, you tried to save me." Her hand gripped her chest, and blood seeped through her fingers.

Jacob's shoulder pulsed with pain, and he realized what must've happened.

The bullet had grazed it.

And hit Sarah.

He'd tried to save her. Once again, he'd tried to do the right thing—and failed.

Wooziness washed over him. He was going to faint. He pressed his hands over hers to apply pressure to the gunshot.

And he was about to fail again as blackness seeped into his periphery. God, not now. Give me strength!

Christian whimpered under the bed.

"Drop the weapon!" Emily's voice rang out.