Page 15

SIX
He snapped off the top on two more beer bottles. He’d drunk six already, but he wasn’t in the mood for much else. He’d had a bad day, a bad week, month, year,yearsbefore that, and he didn’t see it getting any better. There was no job, no prospects, no sunny outlook for the future. The definition of a loser by anyone’s standards but he refused to accept the label.
He dropped onto the couch next to his companion, handing him one of the bottles.
The television was on, and they were mindlessly staring at whatever played out on the screen.
“Son of a bitch!” he let loose.
His companion turned to him, slowly, which was his way of going through life. He gave the expressionslow as a slugmeaning. “I’m not sure what we can do about it.”
“No, no, I can’t—” He swigged back some beer. “I just can’t accept that. We’ve suffered for long enough.”
His companion was staring at the TV as if he never heard him. It was just the news, and one would think it was the most fascinating entertainment the way the guy was practically drooling.
“What the hell, man? Can we at least watch something worth watching? Hand me that remote.” He flung out his hand, palm open for his dumbass friend. All he had to do was drop the clicker in there. But it was hard to tell if he was even breathing.Drugs would do that to a person. He did some hard stuff too. “Clicker!” he screeched when his companion still hadn’t handed it over.
“Oh, sorry.”
But just as he was getting ready to turn the channel, a newscast came on about a hostage situation in Woodbridge. The chyron at the bottom read,FBI Crisis Negotiation Unit called in.
He drank more beer as he watched things play out on screen.
“I thought you were going to put something else on,” his companion whined.
“Shut up, will ya?” He cranked the volume, following an inner instinct that was telling him to watch this.
An armed man is holding several hostages at Corey’s Grocer. It’s been ongoing for hours, but there is no progress for police…
A video playback, tagged hours earlier, showed the store’s parking lot full of emergency vehicles. Then there was a closeup of a Mercedes trying to gain access. The woman behind the wheel looked familiar, but it had to be his mind playing tricks on him.
The reporter chimed in with words that supported the chyron and not long later, there was a shot of the woman in an FBI windbreaker.
“No shit.” Itwasher. That bitch who threatened their futures. Seeing her splashed on his screen after just thinking about her was like a divine blessing. Maybe they should shake her up, make her see actions have consequences. Yeah, that’sexactly what he’d do. But how to go about it? Go directly for her or from another angle? But what other angle?
He swigged back more beer, polishing off that bottle, and wiped his hand across his mouth.The internet!The epiphany hit like a tsunami. Who said booze wasn’t good for anything?
He took out his phone and googled her name. Old articles came up, talking about the loss of her brother in a hostage standoff. Well, boo-hoo. She wasn’t the only person to lose someone. He certainly wasn’t offering any condolences. She’d screwed everything up for him and his buddy here, and she should feel their pain. Killing would be over and done, which made hurting her and bringing her to her knees more appealing. Besides, who couldn’t use a fed in their pocket? But how to get her attention and make her cooperate?
He continued digging online while his companion snored next to him. Shortly later, he found out that Special Agent Vos had a teenage daughter. She was a pretty little thing too. Yes, Mommy Dearest would probably do anything to save her.
He flicked off the TV and slapped his companion on the leg. “Time to sober up and get some sleep. We have work to do when the sun comes up.” One thing that Vos would soon discover was he wasn’t open to negotiation. If she didn’t do what he wanted, he’d put a bullet in her beautiful girl.
SEVEN
At Gavin’s admission, time came to a stop. “Gavin, we’ll figure this out,” Sandra told him, still the projection of calm. “I need for you to relax some, if you can. Please just tell me exactly what happened. Are they badly hurt?” There hadn’t been a gunshot, but that didn’t mean a fatal injury hadn’t occurred.
“He tried to take my gun. But I… There’s… there’s a lot of blood…” The repetition and fragmented and choppy speech indicated Gavin was panicking.
He.The victim was a man. “Just take a few deep breaths, Gavin. Can you do that for me? Everything will be all right.” She needed to bring the tension down, to a place that was easier to manage. De-escalating was crucial for a peaceful resolution.
“Okay, okay.” Deep breaths traveled the line.
“Good, good, are you feeling any better?”
“A bit, yeah.”
“Good. Is the man still breathing?”