PART 2: Beyond the Tinted Window

I drove my knee into the middle of his back and held him flat against the roadway.

He bucked and thrashed beneath me, though his strength was fading fast.

“Hands! Now!” I ordered, pulling my spare cuffs from my duty belt.

Instead, he jammed both arms underneath his torso.

I trapped his right wrist and forced it behind him with a hard control hold.

The first cuff snapped shut around his wrist.

I hauled his other arm free, dragged it back, and secured the second cuff.

Both of his hands were locked behind him.

A defeated sound leaked from him as his cheek rested on the painted lane stripe.

I rose unsteadily, lungs working hard and sweat burning in my eyes.

Pain pulsed through my left arm.

A deep bruise was already spreading beneath my uniform sleeve.

Around us, the interstate had gone unnaturally still except for engines humming at idle.

Drivers watched through their windows, their faces fixed with disbelief.

I drew in two slow breaths and tried to regain control.

Two men were restrained.

By procedure, the immediate threat had been contained.

Then my eyes found the SUV’s rear passenger door.

The child was still inside.

My heart struck so hard it hurt.

I ran to the door, caught the handle, and pulled.

It would not open.

The SUV was locked tight.

“Where are the keys?” I shouted toward the man on the pavement.

He only turned his face slightly and gave me a smile that made my stomach knot.

There were no keys in the ignition.

I had no time to search him while Maya remained trapped in that furnace.

I could not stand there arguing with a trafficker.

That little girl was running out of time.

The biker had seen the danger before I had.

I snatched up my radio, nearly losing it in my sweaty grip.

“Dispatch, Unit 42. Child locked inside a vehicle, critical heat emergency. Get EMS here immediately.”

“Copy, 42. Ambulance is approximately three minutes away. Do you need fire for entry?”

“No. I’m making entry myself,” I said.

I sprinted toward the middle lane where Marcus had dropped his tire iron.

The steel bar was heavy when I lifted it.

Grease coated it, mixed with blood from the chaos at the SUV.

I carried it back around to the rear passenger window.

“Cover your face,” I called to Maya, though she was too far gone to hear me.

I planted my feet, wrapped both hands around the tire iron, and swung.

The bar hammered into the lower edge of the tinted window.

Glass burst outward and inward in a shower of dull little cubes.

Fragments scattered across the seat and glittered on the asphalt.

The instant the window gave way, trapped air rolled over my face.

It was more than heat.

It was thick enough to choke on.

The vehicle reeked of hot plastic, old sweat, and a rotten sugary odor.

The interior felt like an oven left open in the sun.

I let the tire iron fall and reached through the ruined window.

My fingers found the interior lock.

The door released.

I pulled it wide.

Maya did not react.

She hung sideways in her booster seat, straps still cinched across her small body.

Her head had fallen forward, chin pressed to her chest.

Purple and pale patches marbled her skin.

Her shirt was drenched through.

She was no longer gasping for air.

Only the faintest movement touched her chest.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said, forcing steadiness into a shaking voice. “I’m here now.”

I leaned into the blistering cabin and reached for the buckle.

The red release button seared my thumb.

I pressed through the pain until the restraint clicked loose.

I pulled the straps off her shoulders.

Then I slid my hands beneath her arms and lifted her free.

Her body felt dangerously hot.

She had no strength in her at all.

I carried her from the SUV and hurried to my cruiser.

The trunk cast a narrow patch of shade beside the patrol car.

I lowered her there as carefully as I could.

“Medic!” I yelled down the highway, searching for ambulance lights.

There were none in sight.

I looked back at Maya.

Clear packing tape still sealed her cracked lips shut.

My hands trembled as I caught one corner near her cheek.

I hated the thought of hurting her, but she needed her mouth free.

I peeled the tape away slowly.

It pulled at her delicate skin before coming free with a harsh tear.

For one awful second, nothing happened.

Then Maya pulled in a thin, weak breath.

Behind me, the driver shouted that I had injured a special-needs child.