Chapter 2

Dr. Delaney Burns walked through the outer door into her office. Her nose twitched as the scent of newly-mown hay wafted into her nostrils. The familiar tickle and burn of an impending sneeze made her curl her lip, squint, and sniffle. After a tense moment, the sensation subsided and she exhaled slowly. She sniffed the air again but could only identify Mandy’s perfume, the slightly noxious smell of the ammonia-based cleanser the overnight cleaning crew used to wipe down every surface, and stale air puffing through the over-worked air conditioning unit. There was no underlying odor that would have triggered her allergic reaction.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she told her receptionist. She paused, looking around the empty office. “Is Sergeant MacDermot waiting in my office?”

Mandy shook her head, her bottom lip quivering as her eyes filled with tears. “N-n-no.” The girl all but wailed.

Delaney sighed. There were times she wished she wasn’t quite such a pushover. As dean of a local business college, her sister constantly saddled her with the students no one with any sense would hire. Luckily, none of them ever stayed long. “Get a grip, Mandy. It’s not the end of the world. Did he reschedule?”

Again the girl sniveled. “N-n-no.”

“Deep breaths, Mandy. And put your head between your knees if you feel faint. When you can talk without crying, perhaps you will tell me what happened?”

The little receptionist leaned back in her secretarial chair, performed a series of deep breathing exercises—eyes closed, fingertips pressing into her abdomen just below her diaphragm. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and flashed a tentative smile. “He left.”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Delaney nodded. “I can see that, since he isn’t here. Where did he go?”

Mandy shrugged. “I don’t know. We don’t have a television so I couldn’t turn on the news.”

Delaney opened her mouth but no words came out. Her brain was too busy processing Mandy’s statement to actually form coherent speech.

Before she could make sense of her receptionist’s response, her cell phone rang. The ringtone played the theme song from COPS and pegged the caller immediately. She answered with a brusque, “Doctor Burns.” She listened intently, cutting her eyes periodically in Mandy’s direction. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

She hit the button to end the conversation and glanced at the girl. “That was police dispatch. I’m guessing you were about to tell me that Sergeant MacDermot left because he was paged out to an incident?”

Mandy nodded so energetically that Delaney wondered how she avoided whiplash.

“I’ve been called to the same incident. Just take messages if anyone calls. There is no need to tell them where I am. Right?” She caught herself leaning forward to emphasize and encourage an affirmative answer.

Mandy nodded again, a bobble-headed doll on the dashboard of life. “Oh, of course, Dr. Burns. I won’t ever make that mistake again!”

The involuntary shiver chilled her skin before Delaney could stop it. “You know how to lock the office in case I’m not back by five?” She got the bobble-head again. “Okay, Mandy. I’ll see you tomorrow morning if not before.” She felt like she was talking to a five-year-old.

Out in the hallway, she caught that scent so reminiscent of freshly cut hay again. This time, though, her heart thudded in her chest and sneezing seemed the furthest thing from her mind. For the first time since she’d accepted the contract to work with the city, she was nervous. Hired to consult on psychological issues during and after critical incidents involving the police and fire departments, she’d hoped this meeting with the sergeant was scheduled to further clarify her role. She thought she’d be, well, consulting—but by phone—if they needed her expertise. But the dispatcher insisted she come to the scene. ASAP.

The bell on the elevator dinged and the doors slithered open. Delaney hesitated a moment, peeking inside. The car was empty so she stepped in. The doors closed behind her and she stifled a gasp. Turning, she punched the button for the lobby. As if it were an express, the elevator dropped, leaving her stomach feeling like it was lodged on the ceiling of the car. Much relieved when the thing shuddered to stop, the bell dinged, and the doors opened, she jumped out, startling the group of people waiting to board.

“Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me.” She apologized right and left as she pushed through the returning lunch crowd. A man paused to hold the exit door for her and she darted out with a hurried, “Thanks!” tossed over her shoulder. At the curb, she managed to catch a cab and after getting in, she gave the driver the address.

She used the few minutes the ride took to compose herself. She was new to this hostage negotiation advisor gig. A trained police officer talked to the perpetrators, but she was expected to stand next to him and give psychological insight. She’d only participated in one other incident and that one had ended almost before it began.

Delaney stepped from the calm of the taxi cab’s backseat into a tense sea of controlled chaos. As the cab drove away, she turned a slow circle, stopping at the cardinal points to survey the entire scene. Yellow crime scene tape stretched across the street and fluttered in the gentle breeze. When a stray strand of her hair tickled her cheek like unseen fingers, she ignored the sensation.

A uniformed police officer stood in the center of the intersection directing sporadic traffic. Beyond the ethereal yellow barrier, a crowd gathered. Too far away for her to hear clearly, she nonetheless recognized the speculation running rampant through the group. The expressions on their faces, their gestures—strangers talking avidly amongst themselves, acquaintances now due to shared experience and curiosity. Police cars and the SWAT van blocked the east and south side streets of the intersection, leaving the other half of the intersecting streets open. The officer made eastbound traffic turn left and southbound turn right. She caught a view of the expressions on various drivers’ faces. No one was thrilled by the situation, though some rubbernecked more than others as human curiosity reared its head.

A black four-wheel-drive pickup looked oddly out of place among the police cars. For a moment, she wondered about the driver. To abandon such a vehicle in the middle of an active police incident was a bold gesture. She stared at the truck for a long moment. While it looked, at first, like it had been abandoned haphazardly, she now realized the big vehicle was precisely parked. Curious, she took a few steps to get a closer look.

Two things happened almost simultaneously. Delaney recognized the small badge tag attached to the truck’s license plate and a very large and very belligerent cop bore down on her.

“Get the hell outta here, lady! Are you nuts or something? Or blind? Can’t you see the emergency lights? Get back behind the yellow tape. Jeez! People are stupid. C’mon. Let’s go. Right now. If you don’t get moving, I’m going to arrest you!”

When he paused to take a breath, Delaney carefully raised her hand and pointed toward the knot of officers huddled around the trunk of a squad car close to the center of the action. “Captain Davis is expecting me. I’m Dr. Delaney Burns.”

Honking horns and screeching brakes distracted the cop for an instant. He glanced over his shoulder and winced at the chaos in the intersection. “Don’t move,” he growled as he stomped off waving his hands and yelling at the drivers of the two cars sitting nose to nose in the intersection.

Delaney took the opportunity to continue her perusal of the area. The sharp sounds of honking horns and heated, exclamation-filled yelling faded into the background as she focused on the scene in the street to the east. The sun angled in from over her shoulder to bounce off car and building windows. The glint of sunlight flashing from a place where no glass should have reflected it caught her eye. Sniper team, her brain registered. Despite the heat of the afternoon sun, goosebumps prickled her arms and the hair on the back of her neck bristled.

That’s why she was here. She knew with certainty that she needed to prevent whoever was peering through that sniper scope from ever pulling the trigger. She rubbed her palms up and down her arms in hopes of squelching the shiver doing the quickstep along her spine. What would it be like, she wondered, to stare at a person’s face, to be so far away yet be able to read every expression, knowing that at any moment the order could come to terminate? How cold and unfeeling would someone have to be to hold steady, wait, and then pull the trigger? How could a man keep his eye glued to the scope, watching the face he’d become so intimate with simply explode in a rain of blood and torn tissue?

Her stomach clenched and bile rose in her throat. She swallowed it down and had to cough. Her face contorted for a moment with the effort to breathe. Her hands shook as the big cop approached again. He’d dealt with the miscreant drivers and sent them on their way. Another officer appeared to direct traffic in his place. His glare hadn’t diminished nor had his mood improved.

“Now, what’s this about Captain Davis?” His voice sounded gruff and growly as he focused narrowed eyes on her.

She swallowed again to school her voice and clenched her hands into fists so he couldn’t see her distress. “As I said before, I’m Dr. Burns. The captain is expecting me. I’m part of the negotiating team.”

The cop snorted, his disbelief obvious but he pulled out his radio and made the call. “Command Post, I have a female civilian here, says Cap’n Davis is expectin’ her?”

Delaney watched his demeanor change as a voice spit out of the radio. “How long has she been here? We need her at the CP now!”

The cop stammered a 10-4 and waved her through. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, she might have smiled at the man’s discomfort. As things stood, though, she couldn’t summon up enough lightheartedness to put one on her face.

She approached the knot of men with some trepidation. She had two strikes against her, three if she’d admit to it. She was a civilian, a psychologist, and a female. Breaching this last bastion of male dominance still felt like walking into the lion’s den.

“Glad you’re finally here, doctor. Sorry for the trouble back there.” Captain Davis tossed his head in the direction of the intersection. “I’ve put in the paperwork to get your official police department identification badge. You won’t have that problem next time.”

She swallowed hard again. Next time? How often did these incidents happen? When she’d signed the contract with the city, she thought she’d simply be doing psych evaluations and counseling, albeit mainly with police officers and firefighters. That was before Captain Davis learned about her graduate school paper dealing with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, EMDR—the somewhat controversial Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing system to deal with PTSD—and her work with victims and perpetrators of violent crimes. He’d talked her into becoming a civilian consultant. It never occurred to her that she’d be expected to respond on-scene. Too late now to change her mind.

“Do we know anything about the hostages or the perpetrator?” Proud her voice didn’t quiver, she pulled a notebook from her shoulder bag to take notes.

“Five hostages. Two female clerks, a mother and small child, and an older woman. Two male perps, at least one armed with a handgun.” Captain Davis nodded toward a very scared looking teenager. “He walked in on it. Came out just as our first unit arrived on the scene. Shots were fired as he cleared the door. The kid’s scared shitless.” Davis coughed. “Sorry. I mean he’s scared out of his mind.”

Delaney studied the boy, ignoring the crude language the police officer used. Maybe eighteen or nineteen, the pimples on the youngster’s pale face stood out like bright red stop signs. Shaggy hair fell over his forehead, the bangs flipping every time he blinked. He kept rubbing his palms up and down his legs, the light blue of the denim slowly darkening as it became sweat stained. The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed every time he swallowed.

“May I talk to him?”

Davis looked surprised that she’d even ask for permission and nodded. “Go for it. On-scene, just do what you think needs doin’, Doc. Unless you get in the line of fire, no need to ask permission.”

She approached the boy with a serious look on her face but also with a smile and introduced herself. “What’s your name?”

“Josh.”

“Do you feel all right? Would you like some water or something?” She wasn’t sure where she’d get any, but she’d figure it out if Josh wanted something to drink.

Luckily, he shook his head in the negative even as he replied in the affirmative. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. Just...dude! He was shooting real bullets at me!” His hands kept up their rhythmic rubbing.

“Did you get a good look at them?”

He shrugged, his expression looking unsure. “Sort of. Two guys. One’s about my age. One maybe mid-twenties? The older guy had a gun for sure. And tats. Lots of tats.” He blinked and paled even more. “Oh, hell. Do you think they’re like…gangbangers?” He shifted from one foot to the other, almost hopping. “God, I hope not. That means their homeys will come looking for me.”

Delaney sucked in a long breath but almost spit it out. Heat waves danced off the pavement and her lungs felt like they’d been seared. She licked dry lips and desperately wished for a drink of water. Almost as if someone had read her mind, an EMT walked by and handed her and the boy ice-cold bottles. Resisting the urge to press her bottle against her forehead, she gazed at the kid. “What about the other guy? Did he have a gun?”

The teen shrugged. “I’m not sure. It looked like he was hiding something down his leg. And he was…nervous. Like he was jonesing, ya know?”

She did know. She offered him a smile. “Thank you. You’ve been a big help.”

A uniformed cop appeared and moved the kid away, tucking him into the backseat of a squad car. AC churned cold air into the vehicle, and she longed for the wash of coolness across her clammy skin. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped over to the knot of men. Captain Davis held out a cordless headset. She stared at it but didn’t take it from him.

“What’s that?”

Davis blinked at her but he’d obviously played a lot of poker in his time. His expression gave nothing away. “Hands-free headset. So you can talk to the hostage takers once we establish contact.”

She didn’t intend to but she stepped backward anyway. “Me? Talk to them?” Her voice squeaked and she swallowed around the frog in her throat. “I thought I was here simply to advise the negotiator.”

The captain shook his head. “No. You are our hostage negotiator.”

She managed not to shudder under the cold scrutiny of his gaze. A brief smile touched the corner of his mouth, and she let out the breath she’d been holding. The situation was what caused his expression, not her reaction. He touched her arm, gestured for her to follow him a few steps away from the group.

In a quiet voice, he added, “Don’t doubt yourself, Doc. You can do this. I’ve watched you. Listened to you. You have the touch. As long as the perp is talking, he isn’t shooting. As long as the perp is talking, we aren’t shooting.” He paused, took a short but deep breath and huffed it out as he looked around the scene. Heat waves danced off the pavement and the hoods of cars. Windows glittered in the fierce sunlight. His gaze returned to her face, watching as he waited for her reply.

Moisture beaded on her forehead and upper lip, and then a thin trickle of perspiration rolled down her back. Even so, she shivered again. How could she feel chilled when the heat index was over a hundred and she was sweating like a race horse?

Meeting the captain’s gaze, she swallowed again and finally nodded. “Yes.” She almost choked on the word. Licking dry lips, she spoke again, her voice stronger this time. “Yes. I mean, no. No shooting is a good thing.” She held out her hand for the device. “Let’s get started.” She sounded far more confident than she felt. Straightening her shoulders, she accepted the earpiece from Captain Davis and settled it in her ear.

The gruff cop nodded at her and turned on his heel. “Dutch? Have they answered yet?”

The cop with a laptop open on the hood of a squad car shook his head. “Still ringing, boss.”

Davis reached into the front seat of the car and snagged a bullhorn. Delaney winced and covered her ears, knowing what was coming. He put it to his mouth, and his voice boomed down the street.

“You there, inside the store. I’m Captain Davis with the police department. We’re attempting to contact you. Please answer the phone.” He nodded to Dutch, who dialed again. The electronic ring echoed from the computer speaker even as the guy who looked more like Robocop than human held the cell phone to his ear.

Delaney was both amazed and dismayed by the array of electronic gadgets spread across the hood of the squad car. The command post vehicle hadn’t been dispatched yet. If the incident dragged on very long, Captain Davis would request the modified RV. They’d be nice and comfortable with an air conditioner and other amenities all available. That glint of sun on glass drew her eyes again. If she was withering in the heat down here on the street, what was the sniper feeling up there on the rooftop. Was he anxious? Would he want to take the shot before she had a chance to talk the men into releasing their hostages and surrendering? Fear turned her knees to jelly for a minute before she locked down on the emotions. She could not—would not let that happen. Her doubt banished, she gestured for the bull horn and told Dutch not to hang up.

“The ringing will irritate them, wear them down,” she explained. Hefting the bullhorn she watched as Captain Davis showed her how to activate it. “Hello?” Her voice echoed in her ears and she grimaced. “My name is Dr. Delaney Burns. Please pick up the phone so I can speak with you.”