On Monday morning, Sarah ventured out to her work again, deciding to drive herself, that week. It was becoming difficult to depend on her father anymore for support without revealing to him or her mother the seriousness of her situation. Knowing that her life was constantly in danger now, neither parent would ever let her out of their sight. They were still both uncertain why she had elected to move out of her apartment, though they were perceptive enough to believe it had something to do with a relationship gone bad. How bad, she had hoped they would never know.

She was extremely careful going from the nearby parking area of Bresner's Speech and Language Center to the inside offices. She would be foolish to even slightly let down her guard, now aware that 'Derek the perv' was reported to be living somewhere nearby. A factor that gave her some comfort to this was Carrie's assurance that Iverson was presently being monitored closely '24-7' by the San Diego Police Department, and was currently the target of an imminent pedophile stake out.

When later that afternoon her cell phone rang, just before closing the office, she was even further relieved to finally hear it was Gunther Hoffmann's voice at the other end of the line. He sounded somewhat irritated, even desperate.

"Gunther?"

"Yes, it's me. . . Did Carrie inform you about the location of Iverson . . . and that he's being watched by the police?"

"Yes . . . she told me those things yesterday. Why? Said she'd be here for a few days. To monitor the situation with members of her own department. Right?"

"Yes. But the situation has gotten totally screwed up . . . and very fluid right now, Sarah."

"Fluid?"

"I'll explain. But I want you to leave your building immediately. But only when you see my vehicle in front of it. Alright?  I'm driving a dark blue Mercedes. The license plates are foreign end with 356. You'll cross the street and get in my car when you see me. Got that, Sarah?"

"Yes . . . 356 . . . But what's going on, Gunther?"

"Just come to my car when you see me pull up in several minutes, OK?"

"Alright. I'm preparing to leave right now."

She heard his phone click off.

There was a old familiar feeling of panic which was growing in Sarah as she turned off her computer and told her secretary, Katie, she would be leaving a few minutes early that day.

"Everything alright, Sarah?"

"Yeah, Kate. I just need to get home and see what's up with my parents. Got a call to get there ASAP."

"All right. Well, hopefully things will be OK."

"That's the plan."

Sarah grabbed her purse and went to the door. She carefully peeked out. She could see the Mercedes now, idling across the street and then bolted out to meet it. Walking quickly, she tried not to show the trepidation that was suddenly raging inside her. Approaching the car, she could see the windows were tinted but made sure the license ended with the numbers 356. She opened the door and looked inside. It was indeed Gunther and he seemed seriously in a hurry to leave.

Closing the door behind her, she felt the car speed away from the curb at a great speed.

"Sorry about the rush, but I needed to get you out of the area," he said.

"What's happening, Gunther. Please tell me!"

"Iverson was staked out today . . . He made his move to meet the teenage girl. But something went wrong with the sting. He was able to grab her, slip away . . . and get into a car. The police are in pursuit, but I had a feeling he would stop by here and make a desperate attempt to . . . well, finally take you out . . . as the prime witness in the Danford murder cases."

"Oh God!  But what about that poor girl!"

Just then, Gunther's cell phone rang and he reached into his breast pocket to answer it. He pushed a button on the steering wheel and the conversation was suddenly audible, being broadcast inside the car.

"Yeah, Carrie?  Where are you now?"

"I've got him in sight," her amplified electronic voice responded. "I'm following him now. Is Sarah with you?"

"Yeah, Carrie! " Sarah shouted into the dashboard. I'm here. Safe with Gunther!"

"Good. Gunther, I may need some back-up with this. He's pulling into an apartment parking area. Possibly a secondary location he's been using for . . . Wait . . ."

There was a troubling silence.

"Carrie?"

"Hold on . . . I'm sending you the address here in Lucadia. Where his car is now parked. Put it on your GPS and get here, Gunther. Quickly. I'm still out of his site, but I think he may take the girl into the building."

"Send it."

Hoffmann made some adjustments to his cell phone and began to read the text message with the address. He quickly manipulated a few buttons to transfer the address into his GPS locator. A street map program appeared on the small screen of his dashboard and he sped off in the direction the indicator arrow revealed to him.

"I'm in route now, Carrie, looks like in about three . . .maybe four minutes I'll be there.

"Right. Gunther, it looks like his car door is opening. Yeah. He's got the girl. She's being threatened with . . . a knife to comply. He's got her by the hand . . . Leading her up the stairs to one of the building's four apartments."

"Where's the police?

"He totally evaded them. Hijacked a car. I was able to stay on his tail."

"OK. I'm just around the corner from where you are. Is that you across the street? A white Nissan?"

"Yes! Hurry Gunther. He's upstairs and inside with her now . . ."

"Time is critical for the girl. Are you armed?"

"Yeah."

At that moment, Gunther pulled his vehicle up beside Carrie as she was just getting out of her car. He put his phone in his pocket and at the same time pulled out a black revolver from a holster inside his sports coat.

"Cover me," he said. "Which apartment?

"Apartment C," she said, now running toward the stairs with her own pistol drawn.

Sarah was in shock by the whole explosive chain of events. She remained in the car and took out her phone to call 911. To notify the police as to their location. She helplessly watched as she saw Gunther kicking in the front door of the residence with Carrie close behind him, her gun still drawn.

Sarah was in emergency phone contact immediately:

"911 . . . Please state your situation."

"Call the police! I'm at 1780 Wavecrest in Leucadia. There's a female hostage in an apartment. He's armed with a knife!

"And which apartment is that at this residence, Miss?"

"Apartment C."

There was a pause.

"That information has presently been dispatched. Is that your location, too, Miss?"

"No. Well, yes. I'm in the parking lot! Please hurry!"

"Are you out of danger, yourself Miss?

"Yes . . . for now."

"The police are on their way. Stay on the line. Please state your full name."

"Sarah Bertram . . ."

"Do you have a description of the suspect?"

"Yes. Shaggy long hair. Gray. Thin build. Approximately fifty to sixty years old."

"Thank you. Please remain on the line. Officers will be at the location soon. They're patched through by phone and may wish to question you."

"Alright. . ."

Just then, Sarah could hear several shouts of men's voices upstairs and two distinct gun shots from inside. She peered through the tinted window helplessly, waiting to see or hear what might happen next. Almost simultaneously, a police car sped up to the parking lot and two armed and helmeted officers ran past her car toward the apartment. She could see they ran up the stairs and approached the open door stealthily while entering with guns drawn.

Soon there was another officer on a motorcycle who arrived. She opened the door of the car to direct him.

"Are they inside?" the helmeted man asked, speaking concurrently into a microphone attached to his uniform.

"Yes! But there are two private investigators inside, as well! A man and a woman."

"Do you copy that?" he said into his mic. "Male and female, plain-clothed.  Inside with hostage and suspect."

There came a scrambled, squawking response, which Sarah could barely hear coming from inside the officer's helmet.

"How serious?" he asked.

Again, an indiscernible response from inside.

Several more police cars were just rolling up into the parking lot with their emergency lights flashing.

"That's a copy," the motorcycle officer said into his microphone. He then took a hand-held radio off his belt and pushed a button before speaking into it.

"Requesting ambulance assistance at the Wavecrest crime scene location," he said in disturbingly routine voice. "Yeah. Two victims down. Requiring immediate attention."

Sarah felt her heart pounding wildly and her head spinning dizzily. Now realizing from the sickening numbness of her limbs, she was about to pass out. It was all she could do to lay back on the seat of the car, while waiting for what could be the worst of news. All sounds and her vision were quickly diminished as lapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *