"Dispatch to all available units, there has been a reported disturbance at McKinley's Toys downtown. Suspect is an armed Caucasian male, please proceed with caution."

Andy snuck a sideways glance at her TO, the dark-haired and cocky Sam Swarek. He gave her a mocking glare.

"What are you waiting for, McNally? A freakin' invitation? Light 'er up."

Andy released a melodramatic sigh. "Yessir." The sirens blared above them as Sam stepped even harder on the gas pedal. Andy glared at him as her body jerked forward in response to the acceleration.

"What?" he asked, still looking at her as he reached for the radio. "This is 1519, we're on our way."

The radio crackled to life again. "Over."

Sam placed the radio back in its cradle and sat back. "I'm serious, McNally. What is wrong with you? Every tiny little thing has set you on edge."

"Nuh-uh." She said, staring out the window.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I breathing to loudly?"

"You're a pain in the ass."

"Only the best."

She glared again, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her responding or laughing, seeing as though she wanted so badly to do both.

"Andy."

She shivered slightly as he said her name, at the way his voice deepened. She shook her head to clear it. What was she doing? As much as she tried to avoid him, Sam kept worming his way back inside the carefully constructed armor she had so painstakingly placed around her heart. She swore to herself she would never give any part of it away again, not after Luke. Andy couldn't bear the thought of having herself ripped apart like that again; the only thing she had learned from that relationship and its demise is that love never worked out. The only problem was, she had never given any part of herself to Sam—she had a feeling he had always had her.

"Earth to Andy."

"I'm here, Sam."

"I'm not too sure about that."

Andy sighed, finally looking over at him. His dark eyes bore into hers, as if he was trying to read her thoughts. Not putting it past him to be able to, she looked away.

"Shouldn't you be looking at the road? We're going 75 miles per hour here, Sam."

"I'm a city boy, McNally. How many times must I tell you that? I could drive around this place with my eyes closed." Still, he twisted back around, his eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror.

"Have you ever been to McKinley's?" Andy asked, only half-heartedly trying to direct the conversation away from herself.

Sam looked back at her, as if he knew exactly what she was doing, but didn't comment on it. "Yeah, once. I had to pick up a present for my niece."

"Sarah's daughter?"

"Yeah." Sam didn't talk much about his family, but when he did, it was mostly about his older sister, Sarah.

"That's nice. What did you get her?" Sam didn't bothering answering, because even in Andy's mind, it sounded stupid.

"Are you trying to make awkward small talk or something? Because it's working."

"No-"

"Good, because we're here." Before she had time to reply, he was out of the squad car and in front of the little toy store. Andy followed him out, taking care to slam the car door. The store looked like something out of a storybook, bright and colorful, big windows filled with displays. The only thing wrong was the way the door was crooked on its hinges and the screams that were coming from inside, mothers clutching their children as they ran outside.

"Well," Sam said, hand moving to his gun. "Let's go."

Barging through the torrent of people barreling out of the storefront, Andy followed Sam's broad shoulders as they forced their way inside. Once clear of the stream of people, Andy stopped.

"Shouldn't we make sure everyone's out?"

"Does it look like there's anyone else in here to you?" His words rang true. The last of the stragglers had seeped through the front doors, and silence inside seemed to echo. "I'll take the second floor, you clear this one." With that, he turned on his heel and darted up the thick spiral staircase leading upstairs.

Gun in hand, Andy crept down the aisles, past bins of stuffed animals of every variety, boxes of craft kits and board games. Once Andy thought she had found the suspect, only to realize she had nearly tackled a small toy helicopter that had been buzzing in circles suspended a few feet above the floor. Regathering her wits about her, she turned to go into the last aisle when she heard it.

A faint whimpering was emanating from the back corner of the store. Holding her gun in front of her, she rounded the corner. There, sitting in front of her next to a large display of Legos, was a little boy. His eyes were wide and frantic, panicking at the sight of her and her gun. Andy lowered it, stepping towards him. He could only be six or seven, way to young to be wandering around without his mother or father. And then she saw it: his hands had been tightly bound in front of him, the ropes cutting into his wrists. Looking closer, she saw a thick, clear tape had been placed over his little mouth. Abandoning all caution, she holstered her gun. Her first mistake.

Kneeling, she began to carefully undo the binding around his hands as she talked to him low and slow.

"Hi," Andy said rather breathlessly. "My name's Officer McNally. I'm going to help you out, alright?" The little boy's pupils were still dilated with fear. Andy didn't understand—shouldn't he be at least happy to have someone come help him? And then it hit her. Literally.

The butt of his gun slammed into the side of her head, sending stars spinning and sparkling in front of her eyes. Andy staggered, reeling and clutching her temple. She fell and did not get back up, blood roaring in her ears.

"Well well well, look at what we have here." A greasy voice distracted her momentarily from the pounding in her head. Squinting, Andy made out a tall man standing in front of her. He wore a green jacket over a dirty white shirt and a pair of mangled, ripped jeans. He was smiling at her, teeth missing. His hair stuck up in the back, stubble on his cheeks and chin. And he was pointing a gun at her chest.

"I'm. . .police." Andy mumbled, her brain taking much too long to thread the words together. "You. . .under. . .arrest."

The man laughed. "Oh, I don't think so, sweetheart." He produced from his pocket a length of rope and more tape. The boy, who had been silent up to this point, began to squeal like a piglet. Ignoring him, the man dropped to his knees in front of Andy and bound her hands and feet, taping her mouth shut. Unable to protest, Andy slumped backwards. The pounding in her head had retreated to a dull thud, and the spots she was seeing began to clear, but the pain still made it hard to think.

His job finished, the man stood and whipped out a cell phone and began tapping away, obviously texting. Andy couldn't help rolling her eyes. Was this guy for real? Finishing whatever message he was sending, the man tucked the phone back into his pocket and looked at Andy.

"Looks like it's just the three of us now, eh? You're partner won't be coming back around anytime soon, I have some. . .friends. . .upstairs. They'll keep him busy."

Andy squeezed her eyes shut, praying that Sam would be okay. Logic told her he would be fine, he could take care of himself. But what if he was outnumbered? He could only take on so many guys at one time. Not like there was anything she could do about it now.

"Though, however. . ." The man eyed her up and down. "Having you around complicates things, now doesn't it, Officer?" He squatted down in front of her. She shrank back, getting as far away as she could get away from his putrid breath. "Maybe. . ." He fondled his gun, playing with the safety. "Maybe only two of us will be leaving tonight. Don't you think so, Peter?" He turned his attention on the boy for the first time. The little boy, Peter, cowered, shaking. Andy felt anger bubbling up inside her. How could he stand there and terrify a little child like that? Did he have no conscience? Andy had seen many terrible, terrible things while doing her job—but the worst by far, for her, were the ones that involved kids. The way innocent children with their wide eyes were drug into these terrible situations made her tremble with fury. Those events would be forever etched into their minds, resurfacing during nightmares and horrifying flashbacks. It made her sick to her stomach.

Her mind, made clear by her anger, kicked into overdrive. Summoning her strength, she wrenched her legs from under her and swung them around, colliding with the back of the man's legs. He stumbled and smacked his head off of a shelf stacked with children's books. He grabbed it to steady himself, blood dripping from the place of impact. His eyes were glazed with hatred as he glared at Andy.

"You little-" Forgetting the rest of his words, he fumbled with his gun, aiming it at her head. He was literally spitting, his eyes darting from Peter to Andy, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth. With a spurt of prolonged thought, Andy realized he was literally insane. Licking his lips, he released the safety on the handgun. "Goodbye, Officer."

Andy squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that Peter wouldn't watch. This wasn't how she planned on dying, but sitting there, curled up on the cold tile floor, Andy waited for the shot. It never came.

"Well, hello there, sir. How are you today?" A high, smooth voice floated rather lazily through the atmosphere, thick with tension. Andy dared to open her eyes, only to see a girl standing there. She looked about 15 or 16, with wavy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She was only a couple inches shy of six feet, putting her at a formidable size. She was smiling conversationally, as if she was only mildly interested in what was happening. Andy wanted to scream. Did she not see the boy or Andy? Or the gun in the crazy man's hand, his finger just moments away from the trigger? If she did, it didn't seem to bother her at all.

The man jumped at the sound of another voice, his gun swinging around to face her, then back to Andy.

"Could you do me a favor, sir?" The girl asked, her smile turning into a smirk that reminded Andy of Sam's trademark facial expression. Before the man could reply, the girl whipped out a gun. "Don't move."