4:18 P.M.
Parker takes one more step back into the Shoe Mill and out of sight of the killers. He lets his body make the decision. It’s what makes him a good wrestler. If you wait until you’ve analyzed everything, you’ll just end up getting pinned.
Besides, it’s better to stay in his body, not his head. If he considered this logically, Parker would start screaming. He’s just watched people die.
But he won’t think about that. Instead, he focuses on finding Moxie. Finding his sister and saving her. He hasn’t quite worked out the how. Maybe they can find someplace to hide, or maybe he’ll discover an exit that the killers have overlooked. Or maybe he’ll get really lucky and it will turn out that Moxie isn’t locked in here at all but has somehow made it outside.
The killers might not be able to see him anymore, but some of the other hostages can. The people who aren’t lined up against the doors sag along walls, or sit on benches or the floor. They’ve left a wide space around the dead man. People have begun to whisper to each other, and when that isn’t met with shouts or gunfire, the talking becomes a low murmur. The college girls stand weeping with their arms around one another. Next to them, the mother of the little boy who was crying earlier is rocking him, her bound hands looped over his narrow back. Thankfully, he now looks half-asleep.
Parker’s all the way inside the store now. The meaty scent of leather fills his nostrils. Still no sign of Moxie. But in the back, there’s a curtain made of hanging vertical three-inch-wide gray rubber strips, the kind that separate when you walk through them. If Moxie’s here, he thinks that’s where he’ll find her.
How long will it be until Lips ends up close enough to see inside the store? Parker’s afraid to turn away from the entrance, so instead he shuffles backward. His heart stutters when one of those little benches the salespeople sit on catches him in the calves. He stumbles, but manages to keep his balance.
Finally, the rubber strips that dangle all the way to the floor brush his shoulder blades. He takes one more step back, the strips parting. Then he’s on the other side.
Something cold presses against his temple. His blood turns to ice.
“Don’t make a sound,” a man whispers in his ear, his breath sour. Parker moves only his eyes. Standing between the shelves of shoe boxes is the guy with the shaved head, the one he first saw behind the pillar.
Parker raises his zip-tied hands and then risks a whisper. “I just want to find my sister. She’s seven and wearing a red coat.”
The other man shrugs one shoulder. His expressionless face gleams with sweat. “Haven’t seen her.” He gestures with his chin. “What’s going on out there?”
“We’re all trapped between the doors and that security gate they pulled across. One of them is inside the gate, and two are outside. All of them have automatic rifles. They made some people press up against the doors, facing out. It’s supposed to make the police think twice about coming in.” Parker looks at the guy’s shaved head and the jacket straining against his biceps. “Are you a cop?”
“No.” He doesn’t offer any other explanation.
“What’re you going to do? You have to stop them before they kill anyone else.”
The other man answers through gritted teeth. “Be realistic. If I go out there, I’ll just get mowed down. I might get one—or maybe, if I’m really lucky, two—but there’s at least three of them.” He shakes his head. “I’m going to stay put. This way, I control the space, not them. And if anyone comes in, I’ll be the one who decides who lives or dies.” He nudges the back of Parker’s head with the side of the gun. “So go on, get out of here. And good luck finding your sister. If I were you, once you do, I would try and find your own space to hide. Out there, you’re just one of the herd. And they’re looking for animals to cull.”
4:24 p.m.
SKINNER: Oh Jesus God, he’s making all the male hostages lie down on the floor on their bellies in a line.
DISPATCH: How many hostages?
SKINNER: About a dozen. I think he’s going to kill them. Like an execution!
DISPATCH: 68, RP says one gunman is making male hostages lie down. He thinks they’re planning to execute them.
UNIT 68: We need the Crisis Negotiation Team stat.
DISPATCH: Copy.