With Ruth’s hands cuffed, Georgia allowed herself a short breath of relief, then rolled Ruth to one side and carefully removed the cell from her waistband. Ruth hurled a glob of spit at her face. After Georgia wiped it off with her sleeve, she did something she would never have done as a cop, although others did. She smashed her fist into Ruth’s face. Ruth groaned in pain. Georgia hoped she’d broken Ruth’s nose.
She examined the cell phone. She’d had rudimentary training on bomb defusal at the police academy, but that was more than a decade ago, and bombs, especially the electronics, had become much more sophisticated. She knew that a signal from the cell would complete the circuit between the battery and the detonator, but she didn’t know enough to be confident about her skills and was reluctant to experiment with the device itself.
Fortunately, the cell was another matter. She took her time and slowly opened the back of the phone. She took another breath and delicately levered the battery out of its place with her fingernail. Nothing happened. The bomb was now inert.
She picked up the Sig and rammed it against Ruth’s temple, holding it there—she wasn’t sure for how long—until Jimmy burst in. He took in the scene at once and hurried over to Georgia.
“Help is here, Georgia,” he said. “The cops are pulling up right now. You can let go.”
But she couldn’t. Ruth had gone silent, and her eyes were shut, but Georgia knew she was conscious. Ruth was evil. She couldn’t let go. She could pull the trigger right now. No one would blame her. Ruth didn’t deserve to live. In some dark corner of her mind, Georgia knew it was her rage speaking, not her rational brain. Still, she pressed the gun against Ruth’s temple. When the cops did come in, it was Jimmy who pried the Sig from her hands.