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          Manny dialed nine-one-one.

          “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

          “This is Manny Taisto. I’m a former Pasco County deputy and I believe I’ve located the van used in the kidnapping of Marti Kohnen and Skylar Kisor earlier tonight? There’s a silver van that matches the description parked in the woods right outside the Kisor home. You need to send units right away. Tell ‘em no lights, we have a hostage scenario.”

          “Thank you for your call, Manny. We have you on Black Lake Road, but the house isn’t listed under Kisor. We’re dispatching units.”

          “I don’t care who it’s listed under, I talked to Karla Kisor not five minutes ago and this is the address she gave for where she lives. Her ex-husband is the suspect in the kidnappings. We need units pronto.”

          “They’ve been dispatched. Are you in a safe area? The police are on their way.”

          “Far as I know I’m safe. Tell ‘em to hurry, but no lights, no siren. If it’s him he’s got a little girl and a woman as hostages. Better send a hostage team.”

          “Thank you again for your call, Mr. Taisto. Units have been dispatched. Your GPS has you at the address. Would you please withdraw and wait for units elsewhere?”

          “I ain’t withdrawing. I’m waiting. Get ‘em here fast, lives are on the line,” he said, disconnecting his call as the emergency operator again urged him to withdraw.

          “Screw that,” he said shaking his head at the phone, patting his Glock 19 and calling Derek Easton. “Little girl’s life is on the line and you want me to withdraw? Not today, not ever, lady,” he added, switching his interior lights to off and exiting his Escalade.

          Derek Easton’s phone went to voicemail and Manny cursed. “Easton? Taisto. I’m around the corner from you at the far east side of Black Lake Road,” he declared, reading the five-digit-house-number off the wooden white mailbox stand. “I got a call into nine-one-one and they’re sending units. There’s a silver van parked back in the weeds off to the side of the house. Karla Kisor’s house, the perp’s ex? I’d get here fast if I was youse. Something’s gonna go down. Don’t call me. Come,” Manny declared, disconnecting and switching his phone from ring to vibrate.

          Looking up and down the street he allowed his eyes to adjust to the low light before making his way to the van. The van’s deeply tinted windows made trying to look inside the vehicle fruitless and he carefully walked to the back of the vehicle, shot a picture of the van’s license plate and sent the image to Derek. “Come on, Easton. I got a bad feeling here. Where are you boys when I needs you?” he whispered to himself.