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“Shit,” said Max.

“We don’t know for certain that it’s Adam,” said Max. “It’s very likely, but wouldn’t the caller have known if Lucia was with him?”

“If she’s with him,” Bolton said grimly. “Maybe he didn’t catch up with her after she got out of the SUV or maybe ...”

She’s dead.

“SWAT says they’re a few minutes out,” said Detective Shults.

The home wasn’t a great setup for a tactical advantage.

It was a two-story, white, traditional-looking farmhouse that sat on a small knoll, which put all law enforcement at a lower level.

There were no trees or brush near the home to provide cover.

It was exposed from all angles, which meant law enforcement would be exposed too.

The closest outbuilding was a small barn about fifty yards from the home.

Max knew SWAT would set up snipers there but would have to use their BearCat vehicle to get anyone close to the home.

Their best option was to get Adam—assuming it was he—to leave the house. Or else to free the hostages.

That was the job of the negotiators.

Max had a high level of respect for negotiators.

He’d been a SWAT team member in his time at the Medford Police Department.

The negotiators were always used first to avoid as much violence as possible.

It didn’t sound difficult to be on the phone with a subject for hours, but Max knew it was mentally and emotionally exhausting.

It took patience and skill. They had to sound genuine and establish a rapport with a subject, not come off as the voice of authority.

Their goal was to convince the person to see that violence wasn’t the only answer.

It wasn’t a simple task when the subject was angry and scared.

“Here they come,” said Shults.

Max turned to see the BearCat vehicle and a mobile command unit behind it appear on the long driveway. Bolton had established an incident command area approximately a half mile from the house, out of its sight. Six officers in heavy gear filed out of the armored BearCat.

That’s not enough people.

He knew there should be more. But things happened. Officers took vacations or got sick. Some couldn’t respond fast enough.

“Shit,” said Shults, recognizing the same problem.

SWAT officers were a team. They trained extensively together, and they knew how to adapt when they were shorthanded, but Max wished they had more people today.

The team leader approached, and Bolton went to greet him.

Max watched the rest of the officers double- and triple-check their equipment.

His gaze landed on a specialized rifle, and he quickly scanned the other officers’ weapons.

Only one sniper?

Sniper had been Max’s primary role. He’d also trained in containment and entry, but sniper had been his specialty.

Most of his time had been spent as a forward observer—common for snipers—watching through his scope and passing on descriptions and movements, but he was always prepared to shoot if necessary.

Multiple observers were ideal in dangerous situations.

Max had only fired his rifle once in his five years on the team.

He hadn’t missed.

When snipers miss, hostages and officers can die.

It was a heavy responsibility to shoulder. He’d been glad he had taken the shot, but it’d left him with a mental and emotional burden that would never go away. It was lighter now, but it lingered.

He looked away from the grim faces of the officers getting ready and strode to the small RV that was the command vehicle.

He knocked on the door and showed his ID to the older officer who answered.

Max was invited in and learned Officer Hillyer was one of the negotiators.

He sounded like a kindly grandfather—a good voice for the phone.

Inside, two other officers sat in front of computer monitors, each screen showing several different views from the body cams on the SWAT team.

At a small desk was the other negotiator, Squires, who looked a bit like Max’s sister.

She had the victim’s phone number from the 911 call and was waiting for the go-ahead to make contact.

“You know the subject is related to a county detective, correct?” asked Max.

“We do. Detective Bolton told us,” said Squires. “We contacted her and asked her to come in. Any insight she can give us will be extremely valuable.”

It made sense. Noelle knew more about Adam than anyone except his wife.

“Should be here any minute,” said Squires. “She was already on her way when I spoke to her.”

“Of course she was,” Max murmured. He knew Noelle wouldn’t be kept away if her sister was in danger. At that moment he heard tires crunch on the snow, and he stepped out of the small RV. A Ford Bronco parked behind the other vehicles, and he recognized Noelle behind the wheel.

“What the hell?” Max turned to find Lori Shults glaring down the driveway. “That’s my Bronco! I just got it.”

He looked back and noticed the Bronco didn’t have license plates yet. He smothered his smile. “I think she did what she could to get here.”

“Still.”

“Sorry, Lori,” said Noelle as she strode up. “I was in a bind, and no one was answering my texts.” She looked tightly wound and had dark circles under her eyes. “Morning, Max. I assume the negotiators are in there?” Without waiting for an answer, she opened the RV door and stepped inside.

Max exchanged a look with Lori.

“She’s not happy with Bolton and me at the moment,” said Lori, with a guilty frown. “We didn’t answer her texts this morning as this was coming together.”

“I can imagine her stress from being kept out of the loop,” said Max, understanding Lori’s situation. “It’s her sister.” He followed Noelle into the RV, where she was introducing herself.

“What’s the plan?” she asked the negotiators.

“We need to establish some trust with Adam,” said Hillyer. “Would telling him you’re here be a good or bad idea?”

“Bad. I’m on his shit list, and he’s on mine, but you can’t hide my presence from him. He’ll assume I’ve been contacted.”

“Any topic we should avoid with him?” asked Squires. “Anything that would set him off?”

“I wouldn’t mention the explosion we suspect he set the other day. It might make him defensive. Same with him shooting Savannah last night.”

Squires nodded while making a note. “We don’t want him to worry about possible charges from those incidents. We plan to help him focus on getting out of his current situation as smoothly as possible.”

“By minimizing the consequences for him when this is over,” said Max.

“Always,” said Hillyer. “Want to make that more appealing than what could happen if he goes down the road to more violence.”

“I need to know if my sister’s okay,” said Noelle. Max caught the subtle desperation in her tone.

“We won’t jump into that with him right away,” said Squires. “If he’s done something to her, he might believe there’s no going back.”

Noelle looked stricken.

“But we’ll figure out something,” said Hillyer kindly. “We’ll work it in somehow.”

“Explain again how he’s related to the murder of your husband,” said Squires, pausing in taking notes to look at Noelle.

“He admitted he was there thirteen years ago but claims he didn’t kill him,” said Noelle. “I think he did it, but I’d also avoid that today if you want to keep him calm.”

“If he wants to speak to you, are you okay with that?” asked Squires.

Noelle hesitated. “Yes.”

“We’ll be listening,” said Hillyer. “We’ll give you prompts if needed. Just remember to keep him calm.”

“Thank you.”

Max could tell Noelle didn’t want to speak to Adam. “What worries you about talking to him?” he asked her.

“That I’d say the wrong thing, and someone dies,” she said bluntly.

He understood. Completely. “I was a sniper for SWAT when I was in Medford. I get it. I had a lot of fear about making a wrong decision.”

The officers looked at him, respect dawning in their eyes. “It’s difficult enough being on the end of the phone,” said Hillyer. “I can’t imagine being on the end of the rifle.”

“If you think of anything else we should know while we’re working, write it here.” Squires tapped a yellow pad. “Ready?” she asked Hillyer. He nodded.

“Negotiators are ready,” said Squires, speaking into her radio. Ten seconds later the door to the RV opened and the SWAT commander stepped inside. The SWAT members did an oral verification of their microphones, each counting off using the code word Blue and a number.

Watching one of the monitors, Max focused on Blue-six, the sniper, who’d set up in the barn as he’d expected.

The team member had propped up his body cam a few feet away and pointed it at himself, showing that he lay on his belly on the barn’s upper level, his eye at his scope.

An odd tingling sensation shot through Max.

One he hadn’t felt in many years. A mix of anticipation, fear, and determination.

He exhaled and noticed the sniper doing the same.

He feels it too.

Other body cameras showed the officers waiting outside the BearCat. The last view was from Blue-five, an officer on his belly in the snow at the opposite angle of the property from the sniper. He was solely a spotter, not a sniper.

“All right,” said the SWAT commander into his microphone. “I know we’re shorthanded today, but we’ve got eyes on the entire property.” He turned to the negotiators. “Call that cell number. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Squires dialed. The phone rang, sounding through the speakers in the RV.

No one answered. Squires called five more times, waiting a few minutes after each call.

Finally someone picked up. “What?”

Squires glanced at Noelle, who rapidly nodded. It was Adam.

“This is the Deschutes County sheriff’s office,” said Hillyer in a conversational tone. “We’re outside and would like to know what’s going on in the home.”

“Fuck off.” Adam hung up.

Squires and Hillyer looked pleased. “He answered the phone and he spoke to us,” explained Squires when Noelle gave a sigh of disappointment. “We’ll take it. This process can take hours.”

“If no one’s being hurt, we have time to spare,” said the commander. “The longer this goes, the better chance we have at defusing the situation.”

Noelle shifted her feet. “I don’t have your patience.”

“Patience is key for this job,” agreed Squires. “We’ll call him again in a few minutes.”

“Adam’s not dumb,” said Noelle. “He’s very sharp, and you’ll need to be honest. He’ll catch on quickly if you play games with him.”

Max disagreed on Adam’s intelligence. The man’s behavior proved Noelle wrong.

Noelle leaned against a wall, exhaustion on her face, and Max wondered how much sleep she’d gotten recently. It’d been a rough few days for her, and now, in the crowded RV, the air felt thick and tension was high.

“Maybe we should wait outside until he actually joins a conversation,” said Max. “Someone can get us then.”

Noelle glanced at him, her dark-blue eyes thankful.

He tipped his head toward the door, and she followed him out.