Chapter Seventeen
A burning memory.
By the time we reached Andrew’s office, Chelsea had fallen into a near-comatose state. She was drifting in and out of consciousness, and her entire dress was soaked in blood. I sped into the parking lot at exactly 7:30 am, and I was having difficulty trying to make sense of what had happened.
I’d been trying to call Andrew ever since we left the power station, but he wasn’t answering. Perhaps the kidnappers had called him, furious at what had happened at the station, and demanded he not answer his phone for anyone. If so, I could deal with that. It could be a dangerous situation, but after the sniper incident, this whole ordeal had become more than unpredictable. It had become deadly.
“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call for an ambulance,” I told Am
