Omaha, Nebraska

Nick Morrelli was trying to check flights on his smartphone while Christine waited to drive them home. Outside the car her son Timmy and his friend Gibson helped the Lanoha Nursery worker load the Christmas tree on top of Christine’s SUV. Nick had offered to help, too, but the boys insisted they could do it. He didn’t argue. All he could think about was finding a way up to Minneapolis.

His new boss had chosen Nick to represent Mall of America’s security company, their security company, United Allied Security. With his experience as a county sheriff he had dealt with homicide scenes and forensic evidence. And as an attorney he had the legal background to protect the company’s rights. That’s what his boss Al Banoff had told him. Nick guessed it was one of those golden opportunities that shouldn’t be questioned. Even if the opportunity would be measured in fatalities.

“How many do they think are dead?” Christine asked him.

Nick gave her a warning look. “What?”

“Stop being a reporter,” he told her.

“I’m just asking,” she said, then added, “Out of concern. Nothing more.”

“Right.”

He waited. He knew she wouldn’t give up that easily. “Seriously, it’s bad, isn’t it?”

But this time without even glancing at her Nick could tell she was concerned by the catch in her voice. He caught a glimpse of her hand before she hid it in her lap, nervous fingers combing through her blond hair. Explosions going off in a crowded mall the day after Thanksgiving—it was a nightmare that could happen anywhere. That’s what grabbed you by the throat and choked your senses for a minute or two.

“Yeah, I think it’s bad.”

“Reminds me of the Hawkins shooting,” she said in almost a whisper.

“It was around this time of year?”

“December 5^th.”

Nick had been living in Boston at the time but he knew the incident had rattled the state of Nebraska. A nineteen-year-old named Robert Hawkins walked into the Von Maur at Westroads Shopping Mall, took the elevator to the third floor and started shooting. By the time he was finished and turned the gun on himself, eight other people were dead. All of them random and innocent shoppers and store employees.

“That was so hard on the entire community,” Christine said, now watching out the SUV windows, as if she wanted to make sure her son couldn’t burst in and overhear. “I can’t even imagine what this will be like for the families.”

Nick operated by getting through life step by step, prioritizing and keeping focused on what needed to be done immediately. He couldn’t think about the victims right now or their families. As heartless as that sounded, he needed to stay focused on his job. For his old job as a Boston prosecutor that meant finding the bad guys and putting them away. This job would be a little trickier. The premise remained the same—find out who did this. Find who cracked their firewall of security. No, not cracked. More like ravaged.

“I’ll take you to the airport,” Christine said, startling Nick back.

“Looks like there’s room on a Delta flight in two hours from now.”

“Can you pack and be ready that fast?”

“Sure, why not. If I forget something I’ll be at the mall.”

She rolled her eyes at him and he thought he saw the beginning of a smile. But just as quickly it disappeared. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel and Nick watched her face transform from sister to mom while Timmy and Gibson opened their doors and piled into the backseat.

“You’re gonna miss the Nebraska Colorado game, Uncle Nick.”

“You can TiVo it for me, okay?” he told the boys.

Nick caught Christine’s eyes and just in that moment they seemed to exchange the same thought: Oh but to be fifteen again and have the world revolve around only you.