Page 43 of Every Last One

“Is he seriously going to shoot him right in front of us?” Kreiger was hovering behind Sandra’s shoulder.

Sandra’s stomach clenched as the seconds ticked off.

Mickey took the gun off Maddox and pointed it toward them. A second later, they lost video.

“Get it back,” Kreiger roared at the emergency director.

“He can’t get it back,” Neal said. “You realize that man just shot the camera.”

“It’s okay, guys.” Luis was surprisingly calm as he balanced his laptop in one hand and clicked away. “There’s another camera just down the hall. Here we go.”

It picked up just after the last one was terminated. Mickey was pushing Maddox back into the break room.

“Fuck.” Kreiger raked a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, this guy isn’t fooling around,” Neal said. “Maybe we leave him alone?”

“He didn’t shoot Maddox when he could have made a statement right in front of us.” But was Sandra willing to bank that his reservation would hold out? Mickey could just be building his courage.

“Fair point. And the first time could have been a warning shot,” Brice offered.

“Which could also explain the screams,” Monica said.

The others in the vehicle didn’t weigh in. Luis returned to the table with Kreiger and Neal. The three of them continued to watch the security video. Gibson got up from his chair and updated the markerboard.

Fourth floor male, “Mickey”, confirmed he’s involved of his own free will and fired his weapon.

After making his notations, Gibson returned to his workstation and from the look of it pulled some more backgrounds.

“When he said ‘she wouldn’t want that. Same with the others,’ he sounds like today is happening outside of his control,” Monica suggested. “He might even be afraid of her, the rest of them too for that matter.”

Sandra thought back on the call and nodded. “Just what has him cooperating?”

“Love, fear, or money are the strongest motivators,” Brice pitched in.

“But which of those gets us here?” she asked, not expecting any answers. She was thinking she was going to call the boardroom again when a familiar booming male voice hit her ears from outside the vehicle.

The door was swung open, and a man stepped inside. He latched his gaze with hers.

“FBI Director Hamilton,” she said. “Welcome.” It had taken him less than an hour after her call to Elwood to turn up. As if there wasn’t already enough pressure with this incident. Now she had him to deal with face to face.

But just as Sandra thought he was the worst of it, she realized he wasn’t alone. A woman stepped up behind him. In her late fifties, her hair was a silver blond—a cross between holding on to one’s youth and accepting the grays. She was dressed in an expensive, tailored pantsuit, and her makeup was tastefully applied with a light brush, complementing the contours of her face.

“Everyone, this is Ilene Maddox,” the director said. “She’d like to speak with you.” Hamilton’s gaze dipped over Sandra’s shoulder to Brice.

Sandra and Brice excused themselves and stepped outside with Hamilton and Maddox.

Ilene fixed her jaw as she let her eyes roll over them. “Tell me what you’re doing to save my boy.”

Sandra recoiled at that, as if the other lives at stake meant nothing. At the same point, as a mother who came close to losing her daughter, she found empathy. “We are working to bring this situation to a peaceful resolution.”

A tight smile, followed by a puff of air. “Please spare me the canned response, Agent Vos. Are you a mother?”

Sandra could argue that held no relevance, but no good would come from that. It was best to play along. “I am.”

“Then you would do anything for your child?”

“I would.”