her warm-up to the next level. “Yeah. And pretzels. Then he drove me home in his Porsche.”
“Is he slick?” Essie’s brows drew together, and the frown line Phoebe had inherited instead of dimples creased between them. “That much money, he’s likely slick.”
“He’s not. Smooth,” Phoebe decided after a moment. “He’s pretty damn smooth, but I have a feeling that’s innate. He talked me into having dinner with him Saturday night.”
“You’re dating a millionaire.” Ava nudged Essie with her elbow. “Our little girl’s dating a millionaire.”
Because the idea made her nervous, Phoebe bumped the resistance up another notch—on the machine, and in her. “I don’t know about dating. I’m not interested in dating anybody. It’s too damn much trouble. What are you going to wear, what are you going to talk about? Is he going to want to have sex—and there I say: Duh. Are you going to want to have sex, which actually does require some thought and consideration.”
“Dinner,” Ava reminded her. “Saturday night.”
“Yeah, well, he’s smooth,” Phoebe muttered. “He’s pretty damn smooth.”
The scene was a little storefront operation. Jasper C. Hughes, Attorney at Law. The intelligence Phoebe had indicated that Hughes, one Tracey Percell and an armed individual named William Gradey were barricaded inside.
The tactical team continued setting up outer and inner perimeters. Phoebe grabbed her ready box and headed for the first on scene. She was already unhappy knowing it was Arnie Meeks.
“Situation.”
Arnie wore dark glasses, but she could feel the derision in his eyes as he stared down at her. “Guy’s got two hostages. Witnesses heard gunfire. When I arrived, the subject yelled out that if anybody tried to come in, he’d kill them both.”
Phoebe waited a beat. “That’s it?”
Arnie shrugged. “Subject claims the lawyer cheated him out of six thousand dollars and he wants it back.”
“Where’s the log, Officer?”
The way his lips curled, Phoebe wondered if he practiced the sarcastic look in the mirror.
“I’ve been trying to keep this asshole from killing two people. I haven’t had time for a log.”
“At what time was gunfire heard?”
“Approximately nine a.m. ”
“Nine?” She could feel both temper and fear knot up inside her. “Nearly two hours ago, and you’ve just decided to send for a negotiator?”
“I have the situation under control.”
“You’re relieved. You—” She pointed to another uniformed cop as she pulled a log sheet out of her ready kit. “Everything gets written down. Time, activity, who says what and when.” She took out a notebook.
Arnie grabbed her arm. “You can’t just walk in here and take over.”
“Yes, I can.” She wrenched free. “The captain’s on his way, and Commander Harrison is in charge of Tactical. Meanwhile, I’m in charge here, as negotiator. Get the hostage-taker on the phone,” she ordered the cop she’d drafted as second negotiator.
“I’m the one keeping this from blowing up.”
“Is that so?” She whipped around to Arnie. “Have you spoken to either hostage? Have you ascertained that they’re still alive? If they’ve been harmed? If anyone requires medical attention? Where is your situation board? Your log? What progress have you made toward ending this situation without loss of life in the damn near two hours before you deigned to call this in?”
She grabbed the phone, checked her notebook where she’d already written down names.
“I don’t want to talk to you!” The voice that answered screamed with emotion and fury. “I said I’m through talking to you.”
“Mr. Gradey? This is Phoebe Mac Namara. I’m a negotiator with the police department. You’ll be talking to me now. You sound upset. Is everyone all right in there, Mr. Gradey? Does anyone have medical problems I should know about?”
“Everything’s gone to hell. It’s all gone to hell.”
“Let’s try
“Is he slick?” Essie’s brows drew together, and the frown line Phoebe had inherited instead of dimples creased between them. “That much money, he’s likely slick.”
“He’s not. Smooth,” Phoebe decided after a moment. “He’s pretty damn smooth, but I have a feeling that’s innate. He talked me into having dinner with him Saturday night.”
“You’re dating a millionaire.” Ava nudged Essie with her elbow. “Our little girl’s dating a millionaire.”
Because the idea made her nervous, Phoebe bumped the resistance up another notch—on the machine, and in her. “I don’t know about dating. I’m not interested in dating anybody. It’s too damn much trouble. What are you going to wear, what are you going to talk about? Is he going to want to have sex—and there I say: Duh. Are you going to want to have sex, which actually does require some thought and consideration.”
“Dinner,” Ava reminded her. “Saturday night.”
“Yeah, well, he’s smooth,” Phoebe muttered. “He’s pretty damn smooth.”
The scene was a little storefront operation. Jasper C. Hughes, Attorney at Law. The intelligence Phoebe had indicated that Hughes, one Tracey Percell and an armed individual named William Gradey were barricaded inside.
The tactical team continued setting up outer and inner perimeters. Phoebe grabbed her ready box and headed for the first on scene. She was already unhappy knowing it was Arnie Meeks.
“Situation.”
Arnie wore dark glasses, but she could feel the derision in his eyes as he stared down at her. “Guy’s got two hostages. Witnesses heard gunfire. When I arrived, the subject yelled out that if anybody tried to come in, he’d kill them both.”
Phoebe waited a beat. “That’s it?”
Arnie shrugged. “Subject claims the lawyer cheated him out of six thousand dollars and he wants it back.”
“Where’s the log, Officer?”
The way his lips curled, Phoebe wondered if he practiced the sarcastic look in the mirror.
“I’ve been trying to keep this asshole from killing two people. I haven’t had time for a log.”
“At what time was gunfire heard?”
“Approximately nine a.m. ”
“Nine?” She could feel both temper and fear knot up inside her. “Nearly two hours ago, and you’ve just decided to send for a negotiator?”
“I have the situation under control.”
“You’re relieved. You—” She pointed to another uniformed cop as she pulled a log sheet out of her ready kit. “Everything gets written down. Time, activity, who says what and when.” She took out a notebook.
Arnie grabbed her arm. “You can’t just walk in here and take over.”
“Yes, I can.” She wrenched free. “The captain’s on his way, and Commander Harrison is in charge of Tactical. Meanwhile, I’m in charge here, as negotiator. Get the hostage-taker on the phone,” she ordered the cop she’d drafted as second negotiator.
“I’m the one keeping this from blowing up.”
“Is that so?” She whipped around to Arnie. “Have you spoken to either hostage? Have you ascertained that they’re still alive? If they’ve been harmed? If anyone requires medical attention? Where is your situation board? Your log? What progress have you made toward ending this situation without loss of life in the damn near two hours before you deigned to call this in?”
She grabbed the phone, checked her notebook where she’d already written down names.
“I don’t want to talk to you!” The voice that answered screamed with emotion and fury. “I said I’m through talking to you.”
“Mr. Gradey? This is Phoebe Mac Namara. I’m a negotiator with the police department. You’ll be talking to me now. You sound upset. Is everyone all right in there, Mr. Gradey? Does anyone have medical problems I should know about?”
“Everything’s gone to hell. It’s all gone to hell.”
“Let’s try
Similar Books
