Terms of Surrender Read online

  Dace nodded. “He wants us to know what the stakes are. Wants us to see the risk of injury to the boy. This guy has anticipated worst-case scenarios. We already know he’s familiarized himself with LEO procedure. He may be aware that we have the technology to disable the cells once we arrive on the scene.”

  Jolie settled back on her chair, determination and dread mingling. Simultaneous realizations occurred. There were going to be far more dangerous complications to this situation than the relationship between her and Dace.

  And however it ended, it wasn’t going to be easy.

  * * *

  “You’ve got your vehicle, John.” Dace was still wondering why the HT had asked for him. Jolie had handled the process of lowering the gunman’s expectations from an SUV and talking him through law enforcement’s approach with the vehicle. It had turned into a long, drawn-out procedure. “Keys are in it.”

  “Is this your doing, Recker? Pretty far cry from the SUV I asked for, isn’t it?”

  “We’re doing the best we can for you here, John. We wanted something with a police radio in it so we could still communicate with you.”

  There was a short, harsh laugh. “You probably got the crate right off the police impound lot. Turn it on and leave it running for a few minutes. I want proof it’s in working order. And you still haven’t pulled the perimeter back. Looks like more cops out there than ever.”

  “One step at a time. We gave you something you want. Now it’s time for you to reciprocate.”

  “I’m not in a giving mood, Recker.” Over four hours had passed since the alarm inside had been pressed. Their intelligence officers had kept track of the movement inside the bank, which had been minimal. Aside from the guard’s body, only the HT and the boy had been seen, and then only when the HT had answered the phone. The other hostages had not been sighted.

  Jolie’s conversations with John, however, had also served as a diversion. Tactical had taken the opportunity to affix a listening device to a window at the corner of the building. Now they could hear what was going on inside. At the moment, however, there seemed little to report.

  The crowd outside had grown. As soon as the media had gotten wind of what was going down at California National, journalists and TV anchors had descended on the vicinity like a swarm of locusts. The extra LEO personnel had been necessary for crowd control. An information center had been set up, since it was far easier to release controlled information to the media than to risk them trying to sneak closer for an exclusive. No doubt among the ongoing live reporting the talking heads were interspersing commentary from their versions of “experts” of various occupations, giving self-important assessments of the gunman. The hostages. And suggesting endless scenarios for a fascinated public.

  Dace wondered if “John” had access to a television inside. Some hostage takers reveled in the notoriety, their one brush with fame. But he didn’t think the gunman inside was motivated by anything other than what he’d first revealed: money.

  “You have to be thirsty. Hungry. We can deliver food. Whatever you want. Easier to think on a full stomach, I always find.”

  No answer. But the other man was still there. He could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. Keeping his voice easy, Dace continued. “What’s your favorite? Ham sandwiches? Pizza? We can get enough for you to feed everyone inside. But we need to talk about the boy, John. Tyler Mills. He’s only twenty-two months old. Kid that age needs diapers. Regular meals. Naps. He has to be getting cranky. Now’s the time to send him out. Believe me, you don’t want to be dealing with a two-year-old who’s short on sleep.”

  “The kid stays.” John’s voice, when he finally spoke, was flat. Emotionless. “But you can send in the food. Diapers. And something for him to drink.”

  “Good idea. I’ll get on that right away. But I want you to think more about the boy. Tyler. You don’t need him. How about an exchange, the boy for the vehicle.”

  “Like I said, I’m keeping the kid.” There was a hesitation. “But I’m a fair man. I’ll give you two different hostages. One now, and another when the food arrives.”

  Dace saw Jolie gesturing in vehement disapproval, but he answered, “Fair enough. But it’d be best to send the boy out, John. All those people inside, you don’t need him.”

  There was an eerie laugh. “I do need him. He’s my good-luck charm. Keeps your snipers from getting trigger-happy, doesn’t he?”

  “We all want a peaceful ending to this. We’re not looking for anyone to get hurt. You need to start thinking about how we can get everyone home safe. You included. That’s what’s important here.”

  “Now there’s where you’re wrong, Recker.” There was chilly amusement in the other man’s voice. “What’s important is me walking out of here with the cash. The rest is your agenda, not mine.”

  “Hey, we’re on the same page, John.” Dace didn’t let a hint of frustration tinge his words. “I don’t want anything happening to you. We’re ready to do what it takes so everyone gets what they want.”

  A click was his only answer. Dace set the phone down, raising his brows at the group. Dr. Ryder said, looking thoughtful, “I think we were dead-on with our first impression of this guy. Likes to be in control. May even be used to a position of authority. He uses a totally different tone with you, Dace, than he does with Jolie. I still think he believes she’s a soft touch because she’s a woman.” He glanced at Jolie. “No offense. But when things don’t go the way he wants, he demands to talk to the male. It’s a man he expects will be making the decisions. You also get the blame when he doesn’t like how things work out.”

  It was very possible. But an entirely different thought had been forming in Dace’s mind during the course of the last conversation. He leaned over to look at the notes Jolie had been making. He was struck at once by the similarity of their thinking. When it came to their work, at least, he and Jolie disagreed on very little. It had been their private life that had ended with neither able to communicate with the other.

  Which was ironic as hell, given their background as trained negotiators. Why did it seem so much simpler for him to talk to a sociopath like the one locked inside that bank than to the woman he’d lived with? Had a child with?

  He had a mental flash of the two of them standing at the edge of Sammy’s grave. Such a small hole for an equally tiny casket. Jolie had been standing beside him, but they hadn’t been touching. It had been as if each of them had a force field surrounding them, keeping everyone else at a distance. Family. Friends. Each other. It had been all he could do to cope with the pain gnawing a hole through his chest without howling his rage, his desolation to the world. He’d sleepwalked through the entire process. Planning the service. The funeral. Greeting the mourners. Responding to the flowers and donations that had been sent. It hadn’t been until a week afterward that the numbness had worn off, leaving only the bone-crushing grief behind.

  He hadn’t reached for Jolie then either.

  “Okay, I’m going out on a limb here.” Jolie interrupted his thoughts. “But his mention of the snipers got me thinking. We know he did his homework on the potential police response. But even given his suspicion that snipers are waiting, he walks freely across the open lobby to answer the phone each time. Yeah, he’s using the child for protection. But he’s still exposing himself to a body-mass shot that could be a back-up target as long as his head is unexposed.”

  The same thing had occurred to Dace during the last conversation. “He’s wearing Kevlar. Or hell, maybe he’s even got himself a Tac-Vest. Feels confident. Sure, it leaves his legs exposed, but the worst that could happen is getting his knee blown away. Even then, there’s plenty of time to kill the boy.”

  He looked at Johnson. “The security video…what was the suspected gunman wearing?”

  “Jeans, sneakers, long baggy UCLA sweatshirt and a matching cap pulled down low,” came the response. “Wearing a backpack. Must have had the gun concealed inside it.”

  �
��Smart prick,” Lewis muttered. “Went in prepared. What’s everyone’s take? Are we wearing him down at all?”

  The team members were silent for a moment. “He’s tiring,” Jolie said finally. “And the exchange is an important concession.”

  “He’s playing ball,” Dace agreed. “But I’m not ready to claim we’re anywhere near breaking him down yet.”

  Dr. Ryder agreed. “He still feels in control. The decision to release the hostages was his, made on his terms. I don’t think he’s an imminent threat. But he does still believe he’s walking out of there with the cash.”

  Lewis nodded. “I’ll let command center know about the hostage release.” He slipped out of the back door of the vehicle.

  Herb Johnson had his head down, listening to a voice on his mike. “He’s disappeared down the hallway again,” he reported.

  “There’s only the vice-president’s office and the vault down that way,” Sharper interjected. “Our guess about keeping the hostages in the vault must be right.”

  Johnson bent his head, listening to his earpiece intently. “He’s marching a man toward the door. Has the kid draped over his shoulders still. The boy is crying.”

  Dace shot a glance at Jolie, but she wasn’t looking at him. Studying her profile, however, he could see that the muscles in her jaw were tight. The involvement of the boy was hard on her. Odd how he could read her emotions better now than he’d been able to eighteen months earlier. She’d shut down then. They both had. And when he’d lashed out at her for her seeming lack of feeling, he’d been lashing out as much at himself. At fate. At a cruel God that had snatched away his greatest joy.

  Just the memory of the accusation he’d leveled sent a burn of shame through him. Unable to reach her emotionally, he’d reacted with anger. Anger was about the only feeling that hadn’t hurt back then.

  But it had hurt her. Them. Because a few short weeks after Sammy’s funeral, she’d left. And then there’d been no reaching her at all.

  “The first hostage is out,” Johnson reported. He listened a few more seconds before continuing, “It’s a man. Naked. And inside the HT’s allowing one man and one woman to use the restrooms while he watches. He doesn’t leave himself exposed.”

  The hostage would be given a blanket and led to the command center for debriefing. He could have valuable information about the gunman inside. And they had to be certain the released man was indeed a hostage, and not the HT himself, mounting a bold escape.

  “He’s showing concern for the hostages,” Dr. Ryder said with a degree of relief. “Holding them in the vault kept them separate from the HT. Made it easier for him to avoid seeing them as human. This may be a very good sign.”

  “Might be a good time to distract him with a call,” Sharper suggested.

  “Go ahead and try,” Dace told Jolie. But he knew the HT wasn’t going to answer right now. The man was too smart for that.

  But then, maybe he was giving this guy too much credit. How smart could he really be if he still thought there was any way he was going to be allowed to walk away from this thing?

  Twenty minutes crawled by, with Johnson relaying the intel about the activity inside. The HT had worked his way through most of the captives before a rap sounded at the double back doors.

  They were pulled open, revealing Lewis’s grim demeanor. Behind him Dace could see several unfamiliar faces, and his stomach took a nosedive. The effing-B-I had arrived.

  “Officers.” The dispassionate tone was belied by the fury glittering in the man’s eyes. “The feds have decided to crash the party. They’ll be taking over negotiations.”

  CHAPTER 3

  It was more than a little anticlimactic to be relegated to onlooker after taking an active role in neutralizing the situation. Dace stood a few feet away from Jolie, near the edge of the inner perimeter, chafing at the change. An hour had ticked by since they’d briefed the feds and left the NOC unit. If they hadn’t been ordered by Lewis to stand by, he’d have gone back to the precinct to duty. At least there he’d be allowed to do something productive. There was no way the feds were going to accept help from the locals.

  “Hey, Jolie!”

  Dace turned his head to see Ron Wetzel, a sergeant from Jolie’s old precinct, pause as he was hurrying by.

  “I didn’t know you were back in these parts. Had enough of busting movie stars and director wannabes and came back to the real people, huh?”

  “You guessed it, Ron.” There was none of the guardedness in her tone that was present when she spoke to Dace. Her voice was friendly. “The glamour got to be too much for me. Give me a barricade any day over taking burglary complaints from self-important wine growers.”

  “Where were you assigned there?”

  Dace listened unabashedly to their conversation, more interested in her answers than he wanted to admit.

  “Fifth precinct. Partnered with Selma Garcia. You know her?”

  “I don’t think so.” Someone nearby shouted the man’s name, and he started to move away. “Hey, come on down to the Blue Lagoon sometime. See some of the guys.”

  “I’ll do that. Tell everyone hello for me.”

  “You got it.”

  Dace kept his gaze trained on the bank, what he could see of it from this distance. So the rumor he’d heard had been right. She’d gone from here to the LAPD. He’d asked around after she’d moved out. After he found she’d changed her cell-phone number and left her job. Officers in her old precinct had been pretty closemouthed, but he’d heard she might have headed to LA. And that had been the end of it. Hard to find someone in a city of four million who obviously hadn’t wanted to be found. At least not by him.

  That’s when the bitterness had swamped him and he’d forced himself to stop thinking about her for good.

  At least he’d given it a damn good try.

  But those efforts were going to be shot to hell if he had to see her every time they were called out to an incident. Metro City PD was large enough for them to coexist without running into each other often. With a population of half a million and a police force of over eight hundred, she could have been back in the city a year without them ever bumping into each other.

  But instead, they’d been thrown together on the same HNT unit, requiring them to work closely together on volatile incidents. Which only went to prove yet again that fate was a fickle bitch with a mean sense of humor.

  “What happened to Rob Marlow?”

  Her question interrupted his dark thoughts. He and Marlow had been paired on HNT for three years, and the man had been his mentor in incident response.

  “Took his twenty and out last month. He and his wife are moving to Burbank. And Thompson took a promotion and left HNT in January.”

  “Burbank?” Her voice sounded as incredulous as he’d felt when his partner had relayed the news. “What are they—”

  “So are you going to ask to be reassigned, or am I?” He didn’t glance in her direction, but knew she’d heard him. Sensed the stillness that came over her. “This is a distraction. For both of us. We can’t afford distractions in situations like this.”

  “I don’t know. I thought we did all right together in there.”

  He did look at her then, anger flaring abruptly at her even tone. Was she saying their proximity didn’t bother her at all? That it didn’t elicit the unwelcome bits of memory? The welter of suppressed emotion? He studied her, noting her composed expression, which gave away nothing of her thoughts. That had always been the problem—he’d never known what the hell she was thinking. Feeling. And rarely had she told him, even when he’d asked.

  He’d had sex with her. Lived with her. Had a child with her. But he’d never really known her.

  “I’ll ask for the transfer then,” he said flatly. Their messy personal history wasn’t something that could be swept neatly under the rug. And it would be unprofessional to enter situations like these and pretend otherwise. There was just too much at stake.

  “No.” Al
though her expression didn’t change, her voice sounded strained. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to go. This is your squad. Your friends. If I’d known you’d returned to Alpha Squad I’d never have accepted this assignment. I’ll ask for a reassignment.”

  He nodded curtly and returned his attention to the bank front. The food had been delivered, but it still sat untouched in front of the bank door. The second hostage hadn’t been released yet. What the heck was going on with the negotiations?

  No answers were forthcoming. Reluctantly, he slanted a glance at Jolie. “What will you tell them?”

  “I don’t know yet. I don’t want to hurt my chances of being reassigned, and there’s only one other HNT unit anyway. I’ll have to see if that team has a vacancy.”

  Dace went silent, refusing to feel guilty. She was bilingual, which made her a good prospect for any HNT vacancy that came up. And it wasn’t his problem if she couldn’t get a different position. Hell, if she’d been assigned to the other squad, they wouldn’t be doing this now. He could have gone along for months, never even knowing she was around. Whoever had said ignorance was bliss had been dead-on.

  “I’ll think of something.”

  “You could always leave again. You’re good at that.”

  The instant the words left his mouth he wanted to retract them. He didn’t often stoop to being petty and mean. But right now he was feeling petty and he was feeling mean. When she didn’t respond he reached out, snagged the sunglasses off the bridge of her nose and watched her eyes. Sometimes he could read there what he couldn’t see in her expression.

  They stared at each other in silence and for an instant their surroundings faded away. For the second time that day he felt like he’d been sucker punched. Her eyes were laser blue, an unbelievably pure color. Sammy had had his mother’s eyes with Dace’s dark hair.

  But he’d never seen Sammy’s eyes filled with the misery he read in hers.