Jane told him from behind her barricade of plants. “They sounded muffled, like they came from upstairs.” “Anything else?” Jake checked the bank of elevators. Four doors, all closed. Their call buttons lighted. Floor indicators now all on lobby. Six minutes since he arrived. Why wasn’t he getting radio transmissions? Jake had clicked to the incident frequency, blocking out all traffic except about what unfolded here at the hotel. Unless they’d totally lost the shooter, impossible, something was going down. And where the hell was his backup? A squad was supposedly en route to wrangle the people stranded in the lobby. Christ, they all were probably taking cell phone videos and snapping photos from their hiding places. OMG, I’m a hostage. He could just see it on frigging Twitter. Or TMZ. He watched Jane close her eyes for an instant, thinking, then open them. “Yeah. The shots came from the rear of the building. The cops all ran that way, through the fire door.” She pointed, starting to stand up.
