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Technically, four hours and forty minutes…“Oh, I got more than that.”
Bowen smiled. “That’s a no on the name, then?”
She shrugged, letting it be clear he wasn’t getting to her.
“All right, I’ll bite. What did ya get?” Bowen crossed his arms, and his biceps popped like melons. It looked painful. There was muscular, but then there was this. His life outside of work had to be spent in a gym lifting weights.
She almost wished he didn’t ask. The fact the HT wasn’t willing to discuss going home safely may suggest he didn’t have intentions of walking away. But that was far from being conclusive this early on. She’d give Bowen one offering, and then ricochet an inquiry back to him. “He said no one’s hurt, but I suspect you have experience with hostage situations. I’m sure you’ve made your own observations thus far.” The compliment and invitation for him to share his wisdom was tactical empathy at work. The hope was it would spark reciprocity while helping him see he could benefit from the team around him.
Bowen didn’t bite this time. “If that’s all you got from your ten-second interaction with the HT, you didn’t get much. When Garrison wanted to call in the FBI, I didn’t understand the need. Now even more so. You haven’t gotten any further than us.”
Ray and Richie shifted in their chairs. She saw them look at each other. Both were curious how she was going to handle this man. Patrick was avoiding eye contact.
She nudged out her chin. “I sense you’re a man who likes to hear it how it is. Well, contact was just made, so as far as getting started, that clock just began ticking. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to discuss the call further with the team and listen to the nine-one-one call. That is, unless there is something else you need, Lieutenant?”
Bowen clenched his jaw and left.
“I think that’s the first time he’s ever been speechless. Impressive,” Ray put in.
She was just standing her ground so Bowen would know he couldn’t tromp on her. With people like that it was best to makeyour position clear up front. “Could you play that nine-one-one call?” She directed this at Patrick.
“Sure.” Patrick brought up the recording and hit play.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emerg?—”
“He’s got a gun… He’s— Oh my?—”
Crying and people shouting in the background.
“What are you doing?” a man said, and the caller cried out.
Then the call ended.
Everyone was looking at her. She gathered her thoughts and shared her observations. “It’s brief, and the HT is clearly distressed. I don’t think he planned for this to happen, or he would have thought ahead to confiscate everyone’s phones. But at the same time, he did decide to hold people before law enforcement arrived.”
“So he was backed into it, but wasn’t?” Ray asked, his brow wrinkling up.
“Something like that. There’s just so little to go on yet,” she said.
“I just keep asking what turns an outing for groceries into this?” Garrison weighed in.
Without even having so much as the HT’s identity, the question was purely rhetorical. It wasn’t even certain what brought him here. Any response would be best guess. “I’m going to try calling him back, see if he answers.” She got situated again, as did Ray and Richie.
Her call was answered on the second ring. “Leave me alone.”
Aggressive words, but he hadn’t hung up. “I would if I could, my friend, but that’s a bit hard for me to do until I hear that everyone is safe in there.” She was after more than his earlieryeah.
“Everyone’s safe,” he said firmly.
“Can I talk to them?”
“There’s no need for that.”
A lilt to his voice was now distinguishable and disclosed a Virginia accent. He was from the area. “All right. Will you tell me how many people are in there with you?”
“Dunno. Thirty or forty.”
Sandra noted that he hadn’t taken the time to count them, which potentially wasn’t a good thing. To him, they weren’t people and that would make them dispensable. “You’re sure, thirty or forty?” Repeating his words showed she was listening to him.