Chapter 29
"Sounds like you're feeling boxed in," I said.
"You’re damn right I'm boxed in. Now I want all you mother fucker's gone."
"What happens if you put a bullet into the blonde's head?" I asked.
"Someone's gonna have a mess to clean up."
"That sure is an understatement. Then what happens?"
"Then I shoot somebody else, and I keep doing it until I get what I want."
"So you’re just going to rack up the murder charges?"
"One or a hundred, it's all the same, isn't it? I can't do more than one life sentence."
"Why do a life sentence at all?”
The perp hesitated a moment.
"You’re going to run out of hostages, eventually.”
I let him ponder that for a moment.
“Let's say all the cops clear out and you get out of here,” I said. “What's the plan then?”
"You’re out of your mind if you think I'm going to tell you my plan. Like I told you, I’ll be long gone. You ain’t never going to see me."
By that time, the tactical team had gained access to the nail salon next door. The strip mall was older, and there were no firewalls in the crawl space above the drop ceiling. You could move freely from one store to the next. It was a terrible design, especially for a jewelry store.
Conduit, wiring, and HVAC ducts lined the plenum above the drop ceiling, below the roof deck.
The tactical team had lifted a ceiling tile and angled a fiber-optic cable over the wall.
They lowered it through a gap after gently lifting a ceiling tile in the jewelry store.
We now had a wide-angle view inside the store.
The tac team mirrored it to the sheriff’s cell phone.
He showed me while I stalled the perp for more time.
There were two masked assailants. I counted six hostages, all of them on the floor in the center of the store. Of course, I didn't have an angle into the back storeroom. Anyone could have been back there.
All the display cases had been smashed, and high-value items had been taken. Shards of glass littered the cases and the floor. They crackled underfoot as the perps moved about.
The guy on the phone with me paced around with nervous energy. He avoided the floor-to-ceiling glass windows and the door, fearing a sniper. On occasion, he'd move closer to get a better view, but never to the point where the sniper could take a clear shot.
The other perp stood watch over the hostages, making sure no one got out of line.
"I don't see anybody moving," the perp said to me. “What part of get the hell out of here did you not understand?”
"Would it be totally outrageous for you to let one of the hostages go? A show of good faith so I can get my boss to tell these other cops to get out of here.”
He thought about it for a moment. "I guess I could do that.”
"Fantastic. We're making progress.”
From the video feed, I caught sight of a familiar face among the hostages.
The perp grabbed a blonde from the floor and yanked her to her feet. Taking cover behind her, he marched her toward the door, his pistol at her temple.
I nodded to the sheriff, and he told the tac team to stand by.
The perp crouched behind the blonde at the front door. He unlocked the door, then shoved her out.
“Go, go, go!” the sheriff said to the team over comms.
BOOM!
A flash-bang grenade whited out the camera feed for an instant.
By the time the camera feed came back, the tac team had dropped from the ceiling into the hazy store.
With two quick pops, the dazed thugs hit the floor, bleeding out.
The phrase FAFO comes to mind. They sure found out.
The tac team struck like lightning and secured the area.
Once the threat was neutralized, they escorted the hostages out of the store.
EMTs and paramedics were on hand to treat any injuries.
Other than a little psychological trauma and high cortisol, the hostages were fine, including Emily’s boyfriend, Ashton.
“Well, that’s the end of that,” Daniels said.
Both perps were dead.
Paris Delaney and her crew tried to get as close as possible. I knew she was angling for interviews with the survivors.
Brenda and her crew entered the store, and forensic investigators chronicled the scene.
Ashton didn’t shy away from the opportunity to be on camera. He told Paris, “It was terrifying. I was just trying to buy an engagement ring for my girlfriend when these jackasses came in. Can I say jackasses? Or will you edit that out?”
“We’re live.”
“Oh.”
“Were you afraid?”
“Well, you know,” he said, trying to sound tough. “We’ve all gotta die sometime. But not today.” He flashed his pearly whites.
“I hope your girlfriend says yes after all the trouble you’ve been through.”
“She’d be a fool not to. I’m a good catch, if I do say so myself,” he said with a smarmy grin.
“You’ll have a heck of a story to tell your grandkids.”