Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Sandra’s mind was on what was going on inside the Hanson home as she looked at the front gate.
There was certainly no movement to suggest the security guard was on his way out.
Had Ryan changed his mind about releasing him?
If so, she was going to have a really tough time convincing Kreiger not to have ERT breach.
“All right, I’ve got the addresses for the secretaries,” Gibson said, cutting through the silence inside the vehicle.
Neal pulled out his phone and walked to Gibson’s workstation. “Hit me.”
As Sandra listened to Neal and Gibson talk, the front gates opened.
She glanced at the photos of the hostages and looked closely at the man walking through. “It’s Abram Duke.”
Her observation stalled the conversation between Gibson and Neal, as they turned to look at the screen.
Donny and Monica were watching too. Abram just cleared the gates, and they shut again.
Paramedics moved in to look the man over.
From this distance, it didn’t appear that Abram had any significant injuries.
“This is good. Crawford held up his end of the bargain,” Neal said, thanked Gibson, and left the vehicle with his phone to his ear.
Gibson wasn’t far behind. His target was the released security guard.
“I’m going to call Ryan,” Sandra said while putting on her headset.
Donny and Monica followed her lead. The timing wasn’t ideal with Gibson out of the vehicle, but she had to acknowledge that Ryan had released the security guard.
Something that was best done immediately.
But the line rang before she could place the call. As soon as she answered, Ryan spoke.
“I sent him out. Your turn. When should I expect the news stations?”
“I see you held up your end, Ryan, and I’m working on—”
“Never mind working on it. I may have released a hostage, but I have four more.”
“You did a good thing letting Abram go, Ryan.” She wasn’t going to react to his implied threat. Rather, she wanted to help him see he wasn’t a horrible person despite everything. If she could get that across, there might be a better chance of peaceful resolution.
“We’ll see, I guess,” he slurred.
Sandra glanced at Donny. He was looking right back at her.
He’d picked up on the impaired speech too.
Was Ryan intoxicated? Mixed with being armed and prone to auditory hallucinations with nothing to lose, that made for one volatile cocktail.
“It was,” she assured him, “and I’m working on arranging what you’ve asked for… ”
“How hard can it be to get the press here? They should be out there now, lining up on the street out front. These are the Hansons.”
Instead of sounding egotistical with this statement, he came across wounded by the lack of their presence.
It was buried in his tone. Still, it wouldn’t be advantageous to point out the media was blocked from making their way down here.
But she could give a reason that wouldn’t reflect badly on anyone.
“People are scared, Ryan. Can you understand that?” She figured he would.
He wasn’t a hardened criminal, but he’d felt pushed into taking the action he had.
“I won’t hurt the reporters. I just want the truth to come out!”
“Yes, I hear you, Ryan. I really do. And, please, trust me—”
“I don’t trust anyone anymore. Not after being lied to all my life.”
Sandra took a couple of beats before replying. “And I can understand that, I really can.”
“Just get the reporters here.”
The line went dead.
Sandra sat still, staring at the video monitor, where Gibson was talking with Abram Duke at the back of an ambulance.
While she didn’t agree with Kreiger, there might not be a way around inserting undercover officers to pose as reporters.
It might need to come down to that. But the last time she was face to face with a hostage taker… She pinched her St. Michael pendant.
“Vos?” Donny said, slicing through her thoughts. “I don’t think he’s going to be cooperative until we at least meet him halfway.”
“I was just thinking that. I’ll counter that the press conference needs to happen outside.” It would be tricky changing the deal after Abram’s release. Possibly even deadly if she didn’t handle it right.
Monica was updating the markerboard after completing her notes when the door swung open.
It was Gibson back from talking with Abram Duke. “The situation inside really isn’t good. Ryan stripped Duke of his gun, bringing his tally up to two weapons. Duke’s was a Sig Sauer P320 and from what he can tell Ryan’s is a straight-up run-of-the-mill Glock 19.”
The latter was one of the most common handguns. It was the exact weapon Sandra was carrying. The same brand of gun most in this vehicle had in their holsters. No one said anything for a few beats.
Gibson continued. “Duke’s relatively unscathed, just a little bruised and beaten from a brief altercation with the HT. The major injury is Edward. He was shot in the chest.”
“Near the heart?” Sandra rushed out. Thoughts of her twin brother surfaced again, and she wondered if they’d ever stop.
“Upper left side. Duke thinks it missed his heart, but he admits to only having some medical training. Before he came out, Ryan allowed him to patch up the wound as best he could.”
“There’s that at least,” Donny said.
“Still… We are talking about a chest wound.” Gibson didn’t say more since everyone could fill in the blank. It could prove fatal. The clock was working against them. “As if that’s not enough, Ryan’s drinking whiskey, and Duke is quite sure he’s drunk.”
“He was slurring when we spoke, so I believe that,” Sandra said.
“Guess he’s really coming undone. He’s losing his temper trying to get Edward to admit to knowing he’s his half-brother.”
“I wonder why that much is so important to him. He talks about how horrible the Hansons are,” Sandra pointed out. “Why the desire to connect with them?”
“Can’t tell you, but Ryan’s raving in there that Timothy killed his mother and tried to kill him too.
There is a letter from the aunt that he made Edward read.
Duke never read it for himself, but Ryan made Edward read it in full,” Gibson said.
“The teenage girl’s emotional, and the boy’s struggling to breathe. He has asthma.”
That could be why Ryan cut one of our earlier calls short…
He was concerned about the boy. Sandra needed to shut this down, help Ryan see this wasn’t the most effective way of getting heard.
If only they could find someone close enough to him that might exert some influence over him.
The neighbor, who was a casual friend, wouldn’t work.
And bringing in Ryan’s boss from the pub would have Ryan feeling shame about his broken sobriety.
Gibson continued. “He got Duke to assemble the family in one room,” Gibson said. “Guess it’s in a central part of the home. I’ll let Kreiger know so he can update ERT.”
“Let Kreiger know what?” Kreiger entered the vehicle. His timing was both impeccable and unfortunate.
Gibson gave him a quick recap and specified, “It’s the reception room on the main floor, center of the home.”
Kreiger nodded. “Well, we’re still waiting on the blueprints for the home. They must be coming from some dusty storage room in a municipal building.”
That wasn’t the response Sandra had expected. She thought Ryan having two guns might have had the lieutenant wanting to storm in all the more. Caution to the wind and all that…
“Then Duke’s directions should be helpful,” Gibson said.
“Did you ask Duke what he thinks about all this? Does he believe Edward knows he’s Ryan’s brother?” Sandra asked.
“Duke said if Edward knows about it, he’s doing a good job of hiding it.”
Though a man like Edward Hanson would be skilled at shielding his emotions. “Which can’t be going over well.”
“It’s not.”
If Sandra could convince Ryan to put Edward on the phone, she might get him to admit to what he knew.
But that approach was double-edged. It could smooth things out or make them worse.
For Edward to change his story and admit to knowing about Ryan after denying it all this time, Ryan could see Edward as more of an enemy than before.
It could be one more lie that proved a triggering point for something much worse.
The door opened, and Neal returned. “It’s all arranged. Officers have been sent out to speak with those secretaries. Let’s hope at least one of them can shed some light on why Susan Crawford left the company.”
There is always hope… The thought fired through Sandra’s mind, and she crossed her fingers it wasn’t misplaced.