Crossfire
Crossfire
B.J. Daniels
Armed men take over City Hall. A woman is shot–and a hostage will be killed every hour if demands aren't met. SWAT paramedic Anna Carson is going in…Five years ago Anna Carson left Courage Bay…and SWAT commander Flint Mauro. Now she's back, and assigned to Flint's team during a hostage-taking at City Hall. Flint is furious. SWAT is no place for a woman–especially Anna. He couldn't handle it then. But can he handle it now? All Flint knows is that Anna is determined to go in and save an injured hostage. And Flint won't be letting her go in alone….
Press Release
From: Max Zirinsky, Chief of Police, Courage Bay
To: KSEA Television
Re: Hostage situation at City Hall
This morning at approximately 7:30 a.m., council aide Lorna Sinke was accosted by two armed men posing as police officers at Courage Bay City Hall. When Ms. Sinke attempted to escape, she was pursued by the two men to a second-floor conference room where an early-morning meeting was in progress. At this point, the armed men are holding Ms. Sinke, three city councilors, the district and city attorneys and a judge at gunpoint in the barricaded room.
The Courage Bay SWAT team has secured a four-block area around City Hall. It is imperative that all media representatives stay well back from this area and do not interfere with emergency services personnel.
Be aware that the situation at City Hall is extremely volatile. Reports indicate that one of the men is armed with a homemade bomb. SWAT commander Flint Mauro is well trained to handle the situation. As of today, Anna Carson, formerly a paramedic with the Courage Bay fire department, has joined the team. Carson brings her considerable experience as a SWAT-trained paramedic in Washington, D.C., to this incident.
I will attempt to keep you updated as the morning progresses. It is our goal to defuse this incident with no loss of life. Any media interference will jeopardize that objective and will not be tolerated.
About the Author
B.J. DANIELS
wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. That first book, Odd Man Out, received a 4½-star review from Romantic Times BOOKreviews magazine and went on to be nominated for Best Intrigue for that year. Since then she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense and numerous nominations and awards for best book.
Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels, Spot and Jem. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Daniels is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America.
To contact her, write B.J. Daniels, P.O. Box 1173, Malta, MT 59538, or e-mail her at bjdaniels@mtintouch.net. Check out her Web page at www.bjdaniels.com.
Crossfire
B.J. Daniels
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
Being a part of the CODE RED series was a thrill for me—and a little frightening. I’d never imagined what it would be like to be in a hostage situation with dangerous men who had nothing to lose.
Being in that room with my characters, I found myself just wanting to get them out of there—and me with them.
I am in awe of SWAT teams everywhere. I admire their commitment and their ability to keep a cool head when everyone around them is losing theirs.
It was a pleasure to be part of such an interesting series with a great bunch of writers.
B.J. Daniels
Many thanks to Twyla Geraci,
who trained to be a SWAT paramedic.
Also, Sergeant Jason Becker with the local SWAT team.
This book is dedicated to you
and the other men and women who risk their lives
every day to keep us safe.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
9:40 p.m. Thursday
LEE HARPER was no longer sure he could trust himself. Sometimes he would be in the living room and call to Francine to come see a show on TV. When she didn’t respond, he would go looking for her.
And only then would he remember that his wife was dead.
She’d been killed seven weeks ago at the convenience store where she worked part-time. An aftershock from the earthquake had caused the store to collapse. Help hadn’t arrived until it was too late to save her.
Knowing all of that, Lee Harper still found himself turning to speak to her and was always shocked and a little disoriented to find her gone. Not that unusual after forty-six years of marriage. No children. Francine had conceived four times, all miscarriages, all heartbreaking. They had stopped trying, stopped talking about children. It was better that way.
He’d been an English professor until last year, when he retired. He could recite complete Shakespeare plays from memory, knew hundreds of poems, and in all those years had never forgotten even one of his students’ names.
Until lately.
“It’s just grief,” friends and colleagues had said. They’d been supportive at first. But as the weeks went by, they suggested he see a doctor.
No one understood that his mind had started to go when Francine was killed.
Now sometimes he left the stove on. Sometimes he didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten there. His grief felt like a tumor inside him, eating him alive, destroying a mind that had once been “sharp as a tack.”
For a while the question—when he was thinking straight—had just been what to do. How could he right the terrible wrong of Francine’s death? That question had kept him awake for days and left him feeling impotent. There was no way to fix things. No way.
Then he’d met Kenny Reese. And for the first time in weeks, he’d no longer felt confused. Kenny had a plan.
Lee Harper stared down at the crude drawing he’d made of city hall. It was a historic building, U-shaped, one wide marble stairway up the middle, one elevator at the back. For the past week he had staked out the place and knew exactly when everyone arrived each morning and who stopped for lattes and doughnuts, as well as the security system and the exits.
But as he took off his watch and set it next to the blasting cap and explosives, he felt a tremor of doubt. Was this what Francine would have wanted? He no longer knew.
It was the only thing he could think to do, and he had to do something. He couldn’t explain this urgency in him, a feeling that if he didn’t act now, he might not be able to later.
Anyway, the plan was already in place. In a matter of hours it wouldn’t be just one old man who mourned Francine Harper’s death. When Lee finished, the entire city of Courage Bay, California, would finally feel her loss.
9:50 p.m.
ANNA CARSON lifted the last item from the suitcase. A worn extra-large white T-shirt, the lettering faded almost beyond recognition: Property of Courage Bay Police Department.
Instinctively she brought the soft cloth to her face and sniffed, as if Flint’s scent would still be there after five years. Funny, but for a moment, she thought it was. A masculine, clean scent that had always made her heart pound.
She couldn’t believe she’d been dragging his old T-shirt around with her all these years. At first, after the breakup, she’d slept in the shirt. It was huge on her, falling past her knees, wide enough for two of her. Just the size of it reminded her of how she’d felt in Flint’s arms. Totally wrapped up.
Wishful thinking. And that wasn’t like her.
Well, she didn’t need the shirt anymore, or the memories, she thought as she glanced out the open patio doors of her new apartment, breathing in the sight and smell of the Pacific. The sea was glassy, golden in the last of the day’s light. From the third-story deck, she could hear the waves breaking on the sandy beach. It was one of the reasons she’d taken this apartment. Here she had the view, the sounds and smells of the only place that had ever felt like home.
Too bad everyone in her family had moved away after her parents divorced. Her dad at least was only upstate, a few hours away by plane, in Sacramento. Her mother was in Alabama with her family. Her sister Emily and husband Lance were in Seattle.
It was as though everyone had scattered after Anna left. As if the family had blown apart. Not that it hadn’t been ready to blow before Anna had announced that her engagement to Flint was off.
“You didn’t really throw the ring at him!” Her sister Emily had given her the eye roll that meant she thought Anna had done something irrational. Her younger sister had been giving her the eye roll for as long as Anna could remember.
“The ring is yours to keep,” her mother had said, always the mercenary.
Anna had looked at the two of them as if they’d lost their minds. “I never want to see that ring again. Ever.”
Her mother and Emily had exchanged a she-is-never-going-to-get-it look. To them, there was no higher calling than a wedding ring on a woman’s finger.
Anna had figured the timing was as good as any to tell them the rest of her news. “I’m going to Washington, D.C., and become a SWAT team paramedic.” She was rewarded with gasps from both mother and sister. She’d looked to her dad, expecting his support.
Anna frowned now at the memory. She’d thought he would be excited about her decision.
Instead he’d looked worried and upset. “If you’re certain that’s what you want to do,” he’d said. “But make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons, Anna.” Not exactly what she’d been expecting.
“Isn’t it…dangerous?” Emily had asked.
“That’s what she likes about it,” her mother had said. “She wants to turn my hair completely gray.” Everything was always about their mother.
Anna shrugged off the past and the memories that had tried to weigh her down the last five years. She wasn’t responsible for her parents’ divorce—no matter what her sister said.
“You becoming a SWAT whatever was the straw that broke the camel’s back,” Emily had accused her at the time.
“Thank you, Emily, I really needed that,” Anna had replied. “I’m sure it was me and not the fact that our parents have never gotten along, were never compatible in any way, and now, finally free of children, can happily go their separate ways.”
“They used to be in love,” Emily had said indignantly. “Before…before everything that happened.”
Anna turned now to survey her apartment, not surprised that coming back to Courage Bay would stir up the ghosts of her past. The apartment, though, was perfect—small, but the view of the ocean made up for space. She took another deep breath of the night air and let it out slowly. It did feel good to be back.
A tremor of excitement rippled through her. She hugged herself, wrapping her arms around Flint’s T-shirt, still in her hands. The excitement was quickly replaced with anxiety. Flint. Eventually she would run into him. He must be a detective by now and on the fast track for the chief of police job. Hadn’t that always been his dream?
She wondered how he’d take the news that she was back in town. Unfortunately she didn’t have to guess how he would react to her new job. Not that it mattered to her one way or the other. Not anymore.
It probably wouldn’t matter to him, either, she realized. Not after five years. Flint was a formidable ghost, one she’d spent years trying to exorcize from her thoughts. She doubted it had taken that long for him to forget her.
Walking to the open deck door, she breathed in the sea air, trying to clear her thoughts. There was nothing more to do tonight. She was moved in and would start work in the morning. She had a 7:30 a.m. meeting with Chief of Police Max Zirinsky.
She doubted she’d be able to sleep a wink, she was so excited. She had the job she’d set out to get. A great apartment. And she was back in Courage Bay. Nothing could spoil it. Not even the thought of Flint Mauro.
She glanced back over her shoulder at the phone book, which she’d left open on the bed. Okay, she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d looked up his number. Just to see if he was even still in town. He was, although he had a different number from the one they’d had when they’d lived together. It seemed he’d moved to the harbor area. She didn’t recognize the address, but then, Courage Bay had grown since she’d left.
Anna had made a point of not keeping up with local news during those years she’d been gone. Since her family had moved away, there had been no reason to come back to Courage Bay until this job offer.
For a while after she’d left, she’d stayed in touch with friends in town, but quickly realized she didn’t want to know what Flint was doing, didn’t want to hear about his latest girlfriend or any stories about his latest case.
For all she knew, Flint could be married by now with a couple of kids.
The pang of regret surprised her. She thought she’d long ago forgotten those silly talks they used to have lying in bed, debating what their babies would look like. They had both wanted a large family. They’d even come up with some names. What was the one that had made them both laugh so hard?
She shook herself out of that thought pattern and closed the deck doors. She had put Flint and Courage Bay behind her. Until Max had called with the job offer and she’d realized there was nothing she wanted more than to come back home. Courage Bay had been her home all but five of her twenty-nine years.
Now she wondered why she hadn’t asked Max about Flint when he’d offered her the job. Max had known them both well. He’d known how devastated she’d been when she’d had to break off the engagement and leave.
She guessed the reason she hadn’t asked Max was that she didn’t want him thinking she was still hung up on Flint Mauro. Because she wasn’t. Flint had nothing to do with her life anymore. Nor she with his.
As she turned, she realized she still had his T-shirt in her hands. She walked over to her new wastebasket and dropped the shirt into it. Tomorrow she started her new life in Courage Bay. No regrets. No looking back. She wasn’t the same young woman who’d left here, and she was bound and determined to prove it.
10:15 p.m.
FLINT MAURO stood on the stern of the boat he called home and stared out at the Pacific. A cool breeze stirred his thick black hair, lifting it gently from his forehead. He frowned as he took in the familiar horizon.
Do Whatever It Takes. That was his motto, wasn’t it? Do Whatever It Takes. And that’s what he did every day. Focusing on his job, his boat, his workouts. Not thinking about the past. The past was too painful. And yet it was there. A splinter just under his skin. On nights like tonight he could feel it pricking him, making him itch for something he’d once had—and had lost.
The flag on the bow flapped restlessly in the breeze coming off the sea. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the familiar scents of the ocean and the night. He’d bought the boat and moved aboard five years ago, the only place that he found any peace.
And yet sometimes he thought he smelled her perfume on the sea breeze. On those nights, he would swear that he heard her soft chuckle next to his ear, felt her pass by so close that her skin brushed against his, making him ache with a need that only she could fill. Unfortunately tonight was one of those nights.
Why was he thinking about Anna now? After all this time? He’d jumped right back into dating after she’d broken off their engagement.
“Get back on the horse before you forget how to ride,” his friends had advised.
So he’d dated. A lot. But none of the women, no matter how pretty or sweet or capable, was Anna Carson.
“You can’t replace cream with water,” his boss, Police Chief Max Zirinsky, had said.
“If you’re suggesting I was the one who threw out the cream, the cream being Anna, you’re wrong. She’s the one who broke up with me,” Flint had told him. “And don’t give me that look. It wasn’t my fault.”
Max had just shaken his head. “Someday you’ll figure it out. I hope.”
Max. Flint had a meeting with him first thing in the morning. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep—not knowing what was waiting for him tomorrow morning at the office. There’d been a rumor going around at work that the chief was going to be making some changes. And just before Flint had left work today, Max had called him into his office.
He and Max had always been close. Not that they didn’t disagree at times. Nor did Flint ever forget who was boss.
But when he’d followed Max into his office, Flint had been surprised that the chief had gone behind his desk and immediately begun to busy himself with some papers.
Max didn’t look up. Nor did his voice convey any warmth, as if he’d been expecting an argument out of Flint.
“I’d like you at a meeting tomorrow morning. Seven a.m.” Max continued sorting the paperwork on his desk.
“Seven a.m.?” Flint asked in surprise.
“Is that a problem?” Max finally looked up.
“No,” Flint said quickly, wondering what he’d done that had put Max on edge. “Can’t you tell me what this is about?”
“Seven a.m.,” Max repeated. “We’ll discuss it then.”
Flint had wisely left without another word. He knew Max well enough not to argue. At least not all the time. Flint had learned to pick his battles.
Was he looking at a battle in the morning? He had a bad feeling he was. He stared out at the sea, surprised again that his thoughts drifted back to Anna. What was it about tonight? Whatever it was, he’d play hell getting a decent sleep this night.
10:30 p.m.
LORNA SINKE opened a can of cat food and set it on the counter. As soon as she did, the cat jumped up and began eating with enthusiasm. A cat eating on the kitchen counter. Her mother must be rolling over in her grave, Lorna thought with a smile. There’d never been pets in this house. Not while Lorna’s parents had been alive, and they’d both lived to their eighties.
“Pets are filthy and messy,” her mother used to say. “Who needs them?”
Lorna needed them. She’d spent her whole life in this house with its spotless, lifeless furnishings. It had taken some time after her parents had died, but she’d finally gotten rid of the smell of pine cleaner.
She looked around the kitchen, pleased. The first thing she’d done was strip the curtains from all the windows and discard them. Then she’d painted over the flowered wallpaper. The furniture had had to go, as well. Her father’s recliner. Her mother’s rocker. She hadn’t been able to bear looking at them, thinking she could see her parents’ impressions in them, if not their ghosts come back to haunt her.
Lorna opened several more cans of cat food for the other cats and set them on the floor. How odd that her neighbors and some old family friends would think she was lonely in this big old house without her parents.
All those years spent taking care of the two of them. When other women were getting married, having children, making homes for themselves, Lorna Sinke had been nursing her aging parents. The good daughter.
And to think that her sister was shocked that their parents had left Lorna the house. Hadn’t she earned it? Her younger sister had gotten out as quickly as she could, purposely getting pregnant to escape, Lorna had always suspected.
Well, it was her house now, she thought as she made herself some toast, standing at the kitchen window to butter it and smear a thick layer of jam on it. Her mother would have thought so much jam wasteful. Lorna could feel her mother’s disapproval as she ate the toast and stared out into the darkness. She realized that she’d been waiting all those years for her life to begin. Too bad it had taken the deaths of her parents. Not that Lorna hadn’t felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders when they were finally gone.
She shuddered, remembering finding the two of them at the foot of the basement stairs. Her mother must have gone down to the basement for something, fallen and cried out. It would be just like her father to go down there instead of calling 911.
Two nasty falls. Both fatal. It hadn’t surprised Lorna, given her father’s condition. Couldn’t remember anything, even what had happened just moments before. And her mother, always nagging him to do one thing or another.
Lorna had warned them both about those basement steps, but neither of them had ever listened to anything she had had to say.
She tried not to think about it. Her parents were both in a better place. She liked to imagine her father floating on a cloud, at peace at last. Her mother was no doubt making hell more hellish.
Getting out her mother’s cookbook, Lorna went to work making her famous sugar cookies. Her mother and father had loved them. She’d made the cookies the night before their fatal falls, putting in her secret ingredient, just like she did tonight.
When the cookies were finished baking, she put them in an airtight container and set them by the front door so she wouldn’t forget to take them to work, then she checked her watch.
Time to get to bed. As aide to the city council for years, she had the run of city hall and she loved it. Hers was the real power in Courage Bay. Without her, the city would come to a screeching halt.
She turned out the kitchen light. Tomorrow she could wear her new blue dress, the one the saleslady said brought out the blue in her eyes. She wondered if her favorite councilman would notice.
There was just one fly in the ointment, as her mother used to say. Councilwoman Gwendolyn Clark.
Lorna glanced at the container of cookies by the door. But she planned to take care of that problem tomorrow. Her life was finally going the way it always should have gone, and she wasn’t about to let anything—or anybody—mess it up.
10:37 p.m.
KENNY COULDN’T SIT STILL. He paced the trailer feeling as if his skin itched from the inside out. There was only one way to scratch it, but the pills were all gone.
He tried to concentrate on tomorrow. Lottery day, and he was going to be the big winner. All he had to do was to hold it together until then. He knew he’d never be able to sleep tonight. He was too excited at the prospect of being rich.
He picked up the photograph of his sister as he passed the corner table, looking into her face. “It’s all going to work out, Patty. Thanks to you.”
It was pretty amusing when he thought about it. Even from her grave, his big sis was looking out for him. And to think just days ago he didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t have money to pay his rent, the creditors had been calling every day—that was, until the phone company had disconnected the phone—and there was no one to turn to for help with Patty gone. It had looked as if he’d be out in the street.
And then his luck had changed when he met Lee Harper at that bar near city hall. What a wack job that guy was. Talk about hanging from a slim thread, and to think the guy used to be some well-known professor. Kenny had listened to the guy go on and on about the meeting he’d been to at city hall and how he blamed the city for his wife’s death, until finally Kenny had said, “Why don’t you do something about it besides cry in your club soda?”
“Like what?”
“Like make the bastards pay for what they did.” Pay had been the word that had echoed in his own head. Yeah, pay.
“How?”
Kenny gave it a little thought. Hell, people did it all the time on TV. “You could take over city hall, make them sit up and take notice.”
Lee perked right up after that.
“But they won’t unless you’re serious,” Kenny pointed out.
“Serious how?”
“Have a weapon or two to hold off the cops until your demands are met,” Kenny said, the idea growing on him. Demands. How much money would the city come up with if a wacko had city hall? Better yet, if the wacko had a hostage? A hundred thousand bucks? More?
Lee was crying in his club soda again. “Forcibly take city hall for what purpose besides getting arrested? Anyway, nothing can bring Francine back.”
Kenny thought fast. “You said you wanted to make a difference? So you’re just going to give up?”
“What choice do I have? I’ve been to the city council meetings. I’m just one small voice in a city that has too many other problems to care about mine.”
“Exactly,” Kenny said. “You need to make yourself heard. If you took city hall hostage, you could demand that something be done. Hell, you would be on television. Everyone would know what happened to your wife. The city would have to do something.”
“A bit drastic—”
“Seems to me drastic measures are needed,” Kenny said, trying to come up with something to appease the old fart. “How else can you be sure that the city won’t let something like this happen again? You want your wife’s life to count for something, right? Think of the lives you might save.”
Lee was looking at him through his wire-rimmed glasses, as if actually considering what Kenny was saying. The guy tended to zone in and out, but Kenny thought he finally had the old fool’s attention.
“We both lost someone we loved because of this city, man,” Kenny said, realizing when it came down to it, he’d been wronged, too. “We can’t just sit back and do nothing.” This might actually work. “You want to get the city to listen to you? Stick with me. We’ll get their attention all right, man.”
“You would support my efforts?” Lee sounded so surprised and touched that Kenny almost laughed.
“Damn straight. You and I are going to teach this city a lesson that won’t soon be forgotten.” He patted the old man’s shoulder. “So do you think you can get yourself some firepower?”
Lee looked vague again, then nodded. “I suppose there is no other way?”
Kenny had shaken his head. “Sometimes you got to take a stand,” he’d said, already seeing how this was going to play out. The city would pay to keep the hostages alive. He’d demand five hundred thousand, a passport and a plane out of the country to some place where he couldn’t be extradited, just like the guys did on TV.
But it would only be a ticket for one. The old man wouldn’t be coming along. Kenny would make sure of that.
CHAPTER TWO
6:45 a.m. Friday
“IS THE CHIEF IN YET?” Flint Mauro asked as he walked through the employee entrance to the police station.
The desk sergeant looked up and nodded. “Said to tell you to come straight to his office. He’s waiting for you.”
Flint didn’t like the sound of that as he started down the hallway toward the watch commander’s office. He was early, but Max was already waiting for him? What the hell was that about? What the hell was any of this about?
Max’s door was closed. He tapped lightly.
“Come in,” said a gruff, impatient voice.
Flint stepped in, ready to take a good chewing out. He just wished he knew what for. “Chief,” he said.
Max motioned him into a chair without even looking up. Flint sat down uneasily and watched as his commander raked a hand through a head of thick, dark hair, then finally leaned back in his chair and looked at him, as if bracing himself for the worst.
At forty-five, the six-foot-two chief of police was as solid as a brick outhouse. He could be tough as nails, and yet normally, humor and compassion shone in his green eyes. Not this morning though.
Flint felt the full weight of his gaze. He waited, growing more worried by the moment. Something had happened, that much was clear. And it wasn’t something Flint was going to like.
“Flint, you and I have discussed at length my idea to put a paramedic on the SWAT team,” Max said after a moment.
Flint looked at him in surprise. This was what Max wanted to talk about? He relaxed a little. “And you know how I feel about it.”
Max sighed. “As you know, we had a court reporter, Lorraine Nelson, who suffered a heart attack during that shooting incident back in September. She lived, but suffered extensive damage to her heart and was forced to retire because of it. If the fire department’s paramedics could have gotten to her quicker, maybe she would have had a full recovery. George Yube died after the sniper shot him. Same story there. Had he gotten help faster, he might be alive today.” Max took a breath and let it out with a sigh. “The way it is now, we can’t get the victims any help until the area is secured. That’s not acceptable.”
“It’s not acceptable to send a paramedic into a dangerous situation until it is secured,” Flint said. “Otherwise you’re risking the paramedic’s life or simply offering the criminals another hostage. The bottom line is, we end up having another person to try to protect, as well as the victims, when our main priority is to stop the bad guy before he hurts anyone else.”
“I’ve taken all that into consideration,” Max said.
“Have you forgotten that the last time we let a paramedic in with the team, the paramedic almost got killed?”
“That paramedic wasn’t SWAT trained.”
Flint shook his head in frustration and shifted in his chair. “Why are we discussing this again? You already know my feelings on this subject and I know yours. How long are we going to debate this?”
Max tented his fingers under his chin, his gaze suddenly steely. “I didn’t ask you here to try to convince you. Or to ask for your approval.”
Flint felt his heart drop. “I see. Well, if your mind is made up, then why get me in here so damned early?” He swore under his breath as he rose to his feet. “You’re obviously moving ahead with this no matter how I feel.”
“Sit down, Flint.”
Flint dropped back into the chair with a sigh.
“I agree with all your arguments,” Max said quietly. “It is a risk, but one that I feel has to be taken for the victim’s sake.”
There was no talking Max out of this. Flint could see that now. “We have a couple of SWAT members with paramedic training who might be interested in the position, I suppose.”
Max shook his head. “I’ve found a paramedic with SWAT training and experience in situations we’ve been forced to deal with and some we haven’t yet.”
“Really?” Flint couldn’t hide his surprise. “So when does he start?” He knew his men weren’t going to like this any more than he did. This guy better be flat amazing.
There was a knock at the door. Max glanced at his watch. “The new SWAT team paramedic is here now, early, just like you were,” Max said with a wry smile as he got to his feet to answer the knock personally.
Flint turned in his chair as Max opened the door. He felt as if a Magnum .45 had been emptied into his chest when he saw the tall, slim figure framed in the doorway. He staggered to his feet, his brain telling him it was a mistake. Dear God, this couldn’t be the SWAT team paramedic.
7:15 a.m.
LORNA SINKE LOVED to get to city hall before anyone else. She lived in the older section of town, close enough to city hall that she walked to work. She liked the fresh air, the exercise and the quiet. There were few people on the streets and traffic was light this time of the morning.
She was a creature of habit, leaving her house every weekday morning at the same time. This morning was no different. Only today, she carried more than her usual lunch and thermos of coffee. Today, she had the cookies in the airtight container in her bag. They made a thumping sound as she walked, reminding her of what she planned to do before the day was over.
City hall came into view, the white-stone, three-story building shimmering in the bright blue morning. Lorna always experienced a sense of pride when she saw it. She loved the inside even more, with its ornate moldings and high ceilings.
Some people thought the old city hall building was cold and a waste of space, too much like a tomb, but Lorna loved it. A few years ago there was talk of tearing city hall down and building something modern. Over her dead body, Lorna had declared. After all the years she’d worked here, she felt as if it were her building. Fortunately the historical society had saved it. Lorna had led the charge—and made a few enemies along the way, including Councilwoman Gwendolyn Clark.
But that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to her problems with the councilwoman. Gwendolyn Clark was on a mission to get Lorna fired, saying it was time that Lorna retired and the council got some “new blood” in the position. Over Lorna’s dead body.
Crossing Washington Avenue, she walked down Robbin Street around to the employee entrance at the rear of city hall. Kitty-corner across the intersection of Bright and 12th streets, she caught a glimpse of the police department. She’d been taken there for questioning after her parents’ deaths. The building was new and impersonal, nothing like city hall. She was glad the city had put up a tall oleander hedge along the back of city hall that hid the newer buildings. Especially the police station. The sight of it only brought back bad memories and Lorna Sinke wasn’t one to dwell in the past.
As she walked through a narrow entrance in the oleander hedge, she stopped to pick up a candy wrapper someone had irresponsibly dropped. Muttering to herself, she stuffed the candy wrapper into her bag and pulled out the key she kept on her kitten key ring.
Her mind was on the day ahead and the outcome. She felt a ripple of excitement. If this day ended the way she’d planned it, she would be free of Gwendolyn Clark.
As Lorna inserted the key into the lock, she sensed someone approaching from behind but didn’t bother to turn around. Blast the woman to hell. Gwendolyn Clark had taken it upon herself to come in at the same time as Lorna every morning for the past two weeks. The councilwoman was spying on her. Gwendolyn said she was working on a special project. Lorna knew she was that special project. The woman was trying to dig up some dirt, something she could use to get rid of Lorna.
It was all she could do not to turn around and hit the woman with the heavy bag. Of course she wouldn’t do that. She did her best not to let Gwendolyn see how she felt about her. That alone had become a full-time job and one of the reasons Lorna had decided today she’d do something about the councilwoman.
Lorna turned the key in the lock, planning to say hello to Gwendolyn, pretending, as she had been for weeks, that she didn’t suspect what the woman was up to. Today she would be especially nice to her. It would make it easier later this afternoon when Lorna offered her one of her special cookies. If there was one thing Gwendolyn Clark couldn’t pass up, it was sweets.
As the door swung open, Lorna plastered a smile on her face and turned, expecting to see Gwendolyn Clark’s round, pinched face and disapproving gaze.
To Lorna’s surprise, it wasn’t Gwendolyn behind her but an elderly police officer, gray-haired, slim, wearing wire-rimmed glasses. He looked familiar. He was hunched over, as if in pain.
“Can you help me?” he said, his voice barely audible.
“Are you sick? Injured?” She fished for her cell phone and had just found it when a thirty-something man appeared from the edge of the oleander hedge along the street. Like the first, he, too, was dressed in a police uniform. But his hair was long and stringy, he’d done a poor job of shaving that morning, and part of his uniform shirt wasn’t tucked in. Her gaze caught on his shoes. He wore a pair of worn-out sneakers.
Lorna felt her first real sense of fear. This man, she thought as he ran toward her, was not a policeman. Before she could react, the first man straightened a little, reached out and grabbed her wrist.
She swung her bag with her lunch, the pint-size thermos and the container of cookies in it, catching the older of the two on the side of his head. He yelped and stumbled back, bumping into the disheveled-looking man. Lorna had stepped backward into the building with the swing of her bag. Now she fought to close the door, but the younger man was faster and stronger.
He drove the door back. She turned and ran deeper into the building, her cell phone still in her hand, her fingers punching out 91—
The younger man was on her before she could get out the last number.
7:18 a.m.
ANNA FELT ALL the breath knocked out of her as she looked past Max and saw Flint. She was shocked at how little he had changed. For a moment it was as if the last five years hadn’t happened and at any moment he would smile and she would step into his strong arms.
But then she saw his expression, a mixture of anger, bitterness and hurt, assuring her the years had been real, just like her reason for leaving.
His gaze turned colder than even she had expected. But it was her own reaction that surprised her. She had wondered what it would be like to see him again. She’d told herself she was over Flint Mauro. That there were no feelings left. For the past five years, she’d worked hard to forget him and get on with her life. She thought she’d done just that.
But she’d never expected it would hurt this much just seeing him.
“Anna,” Max said warmly. “Flint, Anna is our new SWAT team paramedic. Anna, Flint is our SWAT team commander.”
Anna could only stare in disbelief. Flint had always said he was going to be a detective and work his way to chief of police. He wanted to be one of those cops who used his brain instead of brawn, who didn’t have a job where he was always in the line of fire.
“I want to be able to come home to my wife and kids at night,” he had said. “I don’t want to be out there risking my life any more than I have to.”
Now he wore SWAT fatigues and a T-shirt with Do Whatever It Takes printed across the chest. What had happened in the last five years to change his mind?
“Please come in and sit down,” Max said to her, cutting through her painful memories.
Behind him, Flint was shaking his head. “What the hell? Max, you can’t be serious. This isn’t going to work.”
Max acted as if he hadn’t heard him. “Anna, are you all settled in?”
She nodded, afraid she couldn’t find her voice to speak.
Flint had turned away, anger in every line of his body. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.”
“Both of you—sit down,” Max ordered.
“Max, I had no idea that Flint was the SWAT commander,” Anna finally managed to say.
“Sit.”
They sat in the two chairs in front of his desk, neither looking at the other. But Anna couldn’t have been more aware of Flint. This close she could smell the light scent of his aftershave, the same kind he’d used when they’d been together. He exuded an energy that seemed to hum in the air around him, that buzzed through her, reminding her of what it was like being in that force field, the excitement, the dynamism.
“One of the reasons I had the two of you come in early is so that we could get this over with,” Max said. “Bitch and moan and then get past it. Flint, that’s why I didn’t tell you until now that I’d hired Anna. I didn’t want you stewing for weeks over this. The two of you will be working together. You have the jobs you do because you’re the best at what you do.”
“Why Anna?” Flint demanded as if she wasn’t in the room. “Anyone but Anna.”
“Excuse me?” she said, turning in her chair to look at him. “Is it possible I qualify for the job?”
Flint shot her a withering look. “I’m sure there are dozens, if not hundreds, of other paramedics who also qualify for the job.”
“For the past three years,” Max said, an edge to his voice, “Anna has excelled at this position in Washington, D.C., where she was in tougher situations than we’ve had in Courage Bay. She knows what she’s doing and she’s damned good at it.”
Flint was shaking his head. “Does it matter how I feel about this?”
“No,” Max said. “Anna’s good and she knows how our SWAT team operates because of her earlier experience as a paramedic with the Courage Bay fire department. She’s the perfect person for the job. That’s what’s important here. Not any petty differences the two of you might have.”
“Petty differences?” Flint snapped. “You might remember, Max, we were engaged to be married. Hell, you were going to be my best man. This is what tore us apart. Her insisting on endangering herself by training to go in with the SWAT team.”
“You endanger yourself with your job every day,” Anna pointed out. “I don’t see the difference.”
“You know damned well what the difference is.” Flint swung his gaze from her to Max. “She’s a woman. She needs to be there for our children.”
“You have children?” Max asked.
Flint shook his head in obvious frustration. “You know what I’m saying.”
Anna stared at Flint. When she’d first seen him after five years, all those old loving feelings had washed over her like a rogue wave, drowning her in wonderful memories of the two of them together, making her question how she’d ever been able to leave him.
But now as she looked at his obstinate expression, listened to him go on about a woman’s place, she knew she’d made the right decision five years ago. The man was from the Stone Age.
“Anna was the best candidate for this job. She can handle it. So don’t fight me on this, Flint.”
Max turned his attention to her. “Flint has excelled with the SWAT team. He’s shown himself a leader. That’s how he got the job of commander. There is only one question I want answered here this morning. Can you work together, or are you going to let your differences make it impossible? I have to know right now. Is your past relationship going to interfere with your performance?”
“As you pointed out, we have no relationship anymore,” Flint said. “Anna made that quite clear five years ago.”
Max shot him a warning look.
“It’s not going to be a problem for me,” Anna said, sounding more convinced than she was. She’d never dreamed she’d be working so closely with Flint. Was that why Max hadn’t told her? “Were you afraid I wouldn’t take the job? Is that why you didn’t warn me about Flint?”
“Would you have taken the job if I had told you?” Max asked her.
Her quick response surprised her. “Yes. This job is what I’ve wanted from the beginning. I’m not going to let anyone take that from me.” She glanced over at Flint. His jaw was set, rock-hard in anger. She knew that look too well. “I have no problem working with Flint. It’s been five years. I’ve moved past all that.”
Flint turned his head slowly to look at her and his wounded gaze pierced her heart.
“What about you, Flint?” Max asked.
Flint’s dark-eyed gaze was still on her. “Like she said, it’s water under the bridge.”
Anna heard the bitterness and anger. He hadn’t forgiven her for breaking off their engagement. No, she thought, what he hadn’t forgiven her for was not being the woman he wanted her to be. And to think she’d almost married the turkey.
“I need a united front here, Flint,” Max said.
Flint nodded. “I will treat her like my other SWAT team members. No problem.”
Anna recognized that sarcastic tone. Flint would make her life miserable on the team. But she wasn’t about to let him run her off. She wanted this job, she’d worked for it, she deserved it.
“I don’t want any special treatment,” she said, meeting Flint’s gaze. “I’m just one of the team.”
“You’ve got it,” he said.
Max sighed and got to his feet. “I’m going to leave the two of you alone to talk. Work it out between you. I’m meeting with the rest of the SWAT team in a few minutes. I’ll expect the two of you in the briefing room in ten minutes.” His gaze fell on Flint. “You’re both professionals. Act like it.”
Flint grunted.
“That’s the attitude,” Max said, but he smiled as he came around the desk and put his hand on Flint’s shoulder. “It’s great to have you on board, Anna. Five years was too long to be away. I’m glad you’re home.”
7:30 a.m.
THE ROOM SEEMED to shrink the moment Max left it. Flint got to his feet, needing to put distance between himself and Anna. He could smell her shampoo. The same kind she’d used when they’d been together. And her hair was the same: long, shiny, golden brown. Just as it had been the first time he’d seen her.
He’d thought about that day more times than he’d wanted to admit over the years. She’d been walking along the sidewalk by the ball field during one of the police department games. Something about the way she moved had caught his eye. There had been energy in her step. This was a woman who knew who she was and where she was going.
He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her, hoping she would look up. When she did, it had knocked the breath out of him. Her face was striking—the wide, brown eyes, the straight, almost aristocratic nose, the full, sensuous mouth. Her gaze radiated intelligence. Then she’d smiled; a bewildered smile, but still dazzling, blinding, enchanting.
It was as if Cupid had sunk an arrow into his heart. Not that he had ever told his buddies that. They’d have thought him crazy. What? Love at first sight? Get out of here.
He’d been so transfixed he hadn’t heard the crack of the bat, hadn’t seen the fly ball headed to left field, hadn’t seen anything but the woman of his dreams.
He still didn’t remember the ball hitting him in the head. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out. But when he opened his eyes, there she was, leaning over him.
“I’m a paramedic,” she’d said. “Lie still.” She’d gazed into his eyes, so close he could smell her sweet, slightly sweaty scent.
And he’d known this was the woman he was going to marry.
How wrong he’d been, he thought now as he looked over at Anna. The department’s new SWAT team paramedic. Great. He’d spent five years trying like hell to forget her. It could have been fifty years and it wouldn’t have made a difference, but now he would be working with her. The woman who’d walked out of his life after throwing his engagement ring at him. And after he’d spent days looking for the perfect ring for the perfect woman. What a fool he’d been.
And nothing had changed. Not his feelings of pain and regret. Not her lack of feelings for him, that was for sure. Except she was back, and now the SWAT team paramedic—the job he’d never wanted her to have.
He looked into her face, searching for some imperfection that would release her hold on him. She wasn’t beautiful. Not in the classic sense. She was striking, the kind of woman who made you do a double take when you saw her. A face you never forgot. Imperfect and yet perfect for him in a way that made him ache inside.
The more he’d been around her, the more deeply he’d fallen in love with her. He’d gotten caught up in her enthusiasm for life, her generosity, her sense of humor, her do-or-die attitude. He’d once told her that if he could bottle whatever it was that made her so special, he’d be a millionaire.
“Flint?”
He blinked, so deep in his thoughts he hadn’t realized she’d been talking to him.
“I was hoping we could do this in a civilized manner,” she said in a calm voice that irritated him more than if she’d sworn at him.
He stared at her. She didn’t even seem ruffled. Hell, maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she had gotten over him while he’d been wallowing in regret all these years. Maybe he was the biggest fool on the planet. Maybe there was no maybe about it.
“I see no reason why we can’t work together, two professionals, just doing our jobs,” she said.
He snorted. “You have to be kidding.” He was furious at her for walking out on him, for coming back for an even more dangerous job. Didn’t she know how impossible this situation was for him? Did she care?
“Why are you doing this?” he demanded. “You know how I felt about you working with the SWAT team. Are you just trying to rub it in my face?”
“That’s ridiculous. This has nothing to do with you.”
He glared at her. “My mistake.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t think I do.”
She lifted her chin, stubborn determination in her brown eyes and a coolness that had always brought out heat in him. He’d seen that look way too many times. Unfortunately he could also remember desire in those eyes.
“If you’re doing this just to get back at me—”
She laughed and shook her head, eyeing him as if she couldn’t believe him. “You haven’t changed a bit. You still think everything is about you.”
“Damn it, Anna, you’re wrong. I’m concerned as hell for you. You have no idea what you’re up against. I can just imagine what my men are going to think of a paramedic on the team—let alone a woman—let alone you, my ex-fiancée.” He tried to imagine this being any worse and couldn’t.
“You are underestimating your men,” Anna said coolly. “In my experience, the men follow the lead of their commander.”
He laughed. She’d just put it all on him. Anna had always been good at turning the tables on him. He glared at her, wanting desperately to take her in his arms and to kiss some sense into her. If only his love for her was enough that he could talk her out of this.
But it hadn’t been enough five years ago and it sure as hell meant nothing to her now.
“So, is there a man in your life?” he heard himself ask, and mentally kicked himself.
“I think we should keep our personal lives out of the office,” she said.
He wanted to laugh again. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“I’ve been busy the last five years. I really haven’t had time to—” She seemed to catch herself. “What about you?”
He raised an eyebrow. Did she really care one way or the other? “I guess we’ve both been too busy.” He looked into her eyes, searching for just a little of what they’d once had together.
She was the first to drag her gaze away. She brushed a hand through her hair. He couldn’t help but remember how her hair had felt in his fingers. He wondered if it would feel the same.
He turned away, unable to look at her as he found himself drowning in memories of the two of them together, laughing late at night, walking the beach as the sun rose over the city, talking for hours on the phone, making love—oh, lordie, yes, making wonderful, passionate love.
“Flint, this has been my life’s dream,” she said behind him. “This job. I’ve trained for years for it. Isn’t it possible that I just want to help people, that I want to make a difference?”
He felt anger bubble up inside of him as he turned to look at her again. “Being the mother to our children wouldn’t have made a difference in the world? No, sorry, that job wasn’t exciting enough for you.”
“That’s a cheap shot even for you,” she said. “I was twenty-four years old. I had worked hard to become a paramedic. I wasn’t ready to quit a rewarding, exciting job to become a mother yet. But after a while I would have loved to have been the mother of our children. You were the one who said I had to choose. Either I stayed home and started a family right after we were married, or I could pursue a career—without you.”
He shook his head. He hadn’t meant to take that position. He’d regretted it for years. “We could have worked it out if you’d given us a chance. Instead you threw the engagement ring at me and walked out, left town and obviously never looked back.”
“You mean, the way we’re working it out now?” she asked with an exasperated sigh.
“Damn it Anna, I know what it was like to grow up without a mother, remember? I didn’t want that for my kids. Is that so hard for you to understand?”
“No, but it was all right for their father to be a cop?” She narrowed her gaze at him. “I thought you were going to be a cop who used his brain and wasn’t risking his life all the time. What changed?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now, does it. We have no kids to worry about, and it seems we both think we can take care of ourselves just fine.” She was right. They never could have worked it out. He didn’t want his wife risking her life at her job. He wanted her at home with their kids.
“Flint, I had hoped you might understand.”
He shook his head. “This has to be the worst decision you’ve ever made, but then, I thought leaving me was the worst, and obviously you’ve proven me wrong. You seem perfectly happy with your decision.”
She raised her chin, that defiant, obstinate look in her eyes. “I am.”
“Then we have no problem,” he said, and opened the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
CHAPTER THREE
7:32 a.m. Friday
LEE HARPER had been feeling odd all morning. Now as he glanced around the main floor of city hall, everything had a surreal feel to it. He and Kenny were on the ground floor at the back of city hall and they had their hostage. Kenny’s plan had worked.
“Could you help me over here?” Kenny snapped.
He turned to see Kenny wrestling with the woman. Lorna Sinke. That was her name. She was a tiny little thing, thin with brown hair and a small face that made her dark eyes seem larger. He’d seen her when he’d come to the city council meetings. She reminded him of Francine.
“Lee? Could you get your ass over here?”
He shook himself. “Sure.” He moved, feeling bulky in the large, cumbersome police jacket.
Kenny had her down on the floor but she was fighting him, kicking, scratching, biting him.
“Get my gun,” Kenny ordered. “Shoot the bitch.”
“You said no one would get hurt.”
“Shoot her, damn it! Or I’ll shoot you!”
Lee picked up the assault rifle, which Kenny had dropped, and walked over to where the two were struggling on the floor. The woman’s eyes were on him. She looked more angry than scared.
“Who are you fools?” she cried. “What do you think you’re doing? This is a city building on the historic registrar.”
“Shut the hell up,” Kenny said. “Shoot her, damn it!”
Lee just tapped her with the butt of the rifle, a light tap that connected with her skull. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she quit fighting. “Did I kill her?” he asked, feeling sick and confused. “I didn’t mean to kill her.” He was having trouble remembering what he was doing here.
Kenny snatched the rifle from him. “I told you to shoot her.”
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Lee said.
“Yeah. Sure. You got the cuffs on you?”
Lee frowned, then felt in the pocket of his large jacket, producing one of a half dozen pairs. He remembered Kenny saying there could be cleaning people or repairmen in the building. Better to be prepared than not. Or maybe he’d said that. Not that it mattered. He handed a set of handcuffs to Kenny.
Kenny was looking oddly at Lee’s big police coat. He shook his head and slapped one end of the handcuff on Lorna’s wrist. She was coming around, only dazed, not dead. Lee felt a surge of relief. Francine wouldn’t like it if anyone got hurt.
Yes, he recalled now. The handcuffs had been his idea. “Easy and faster than rope,” he’d told Kenny, who hadn’t been that impressed. Kenny had liked it, though, when Lee had told him about the Internet supply shop he’d found where they could get real police handcuffs. “They even have police uniforms and badges.”
Kenny had gotten excited then. “Lee, you’re a genius. We’ll dress as cops. It will make it that much easier to get the old broad to let us in.”
“The old broad,” as Kenny called her, was wide awake again. Lee could feel her gaze on him as he glanced up. He thought he heard a sound from one of the floors above them. The building should have been empty this time of the morning on a Friday. But he would have sworn he heard a door open upstairs.
7:37 a.m.
LORNA MEMORIZED the men’s faces. If she were called in for a lineup, she wanted to identify these two without the slightest hesitation. The younger of the men grabbed her shoulder and tried to flip her over onto her stomach, no doubt so he could cuff her wrists behind her. He appeared to be in his thirties; his face was thin, hair dishwater-blond, and he looked slovenly even in the police uniform. Especially in the scruffy sneakers. He held some sort of assault rifle in his free hand, his fingernails grimy.
“Help me roll this bitch over,” he ordered the older one, his breath smelling of garlic and alcohol.
With the handcuff dangling from her wrist, Lorna gripped the canvas bag with her purse, lunch and the cookies inside. Her cell phone was palmed in her other hand where he couldn’t see it. She lay perfectly still, hardly breathing as he turned to the other man, the soft-spoken elderly man who’d first approached her.
“Lee? Are you going to help me over here or not?”
Lee was in his late sixties, early seventies, neat as a pin. Even his black lace-up leather dress shoes were shined, creases ironed into his uniform pants. He wore a large, bulky-looking uniform jacket, which, now that she thought about it, was far too heavy for Southern California. He was still kind of slumped over a little, looking uncomfortable, still giving her the impression that he was in pain.
But she thought she remembered where she’d seen him. Wasn’t he the man who had come to the council meeting the last two months? Something about his wife.
“Wait a minute,” the young one said, straightening as he stared back at the man. “Where the hell is your gun, Lee?”
“You said to bring firepower, Kenny.”
“Yeah, so where is your firepower?”
Lee carefully unzipped his coat.
“Holy Mother of—What the hell is that? A bomb, Lee? You got a friggin’ bomb taped to your chest?”
“An explosive device, yes,” Lee said.
“Why the hell did you do that? Jeez. What if it goes off before you want it to?”
“Little chance of that,” the older man said.
“Unless you get shot or fall down?”
“I have to discharge it with this switch,” Lee told him, calmly pointing to a hole in the green-colored plastic explosives.
The hole was just large enough for his finger and a small red toggle switch. Lorna knew the switch was attached to a series of colored wires that ran to a digital watch and a blasting cap. She had recently watched a show on TV about bombs, curious how they worked. But she’d decided bombs were messy and too obvious. She preferred a more subtle approach.
Kenny was shaking his head and running his free hand through his hair. “Oh, man, you’re crazy, you know that? Beyond postal.”
From what Lorna had seen, they both fit in that category.
Kenny was so upset he wasn’t paying any attention to her. His kind took one look at her and saw a forty-something old maid, a woman afraid of her shadow, no threat at all.
His kind deserved everything they got.
“Never mind,” Kenny said. “I can do this by myself. I don’t want you blowing me up because you accidentally flip that damned switch while you’re helping me.” He put down the rifle, though not within her reach, and turned back around to her on the floor.
As he straddled her and started to reach down to try to roll her over again, she kicked him in the groin.
His knees buckled and she had just enough time to pull her legs to her chest and roll away. Scrambling to her feet, with her bag and the cell phone, the handcuffs still dangling from one wrist, she ran toward the front of the building and the staircase.
Kenny let out a howl that echoed through the rotunda. She raced up the wide central staircase, looking down through the railing only once, with satisfaction, to see that her kick still had Kenny on his knees.
“Get her, damn it!” Kenny wheezed. “Don’t just stand there, Lee! Get her!”
Lee was handicapped by the bomb on his chest and his age. Lorna, on the other hand, took all three flights of stairs every day, many times. She hated elevators and closed-in spaces.
She bounded up the stairs. She could hear Lee laboring up the steps behind her. He was breathing heavily and falling behind.
On the second floor she looked up and was shocked to see a group of people coming out of the meeting room, obviously to see what the racket was about. What were they doing here? Lorna thought as she recognized three of the city council members: Gwendolyn Clark, Fred Glazeman and James Baker, along with District Attorney Henry Lalane and City Attorney Rob Dayton. A secret meeting?
They all seemed surprised to see her running up the stairs with a handcuff dangling from one wrist.
“What is going on?” Gwendolyn demanded. She was a frumpy matronly type, with a round face and a large mouth that dominated her face. It didn’t help that her mouth was usually open.
Lorna could have asked her the same thing, but it seemed pretty obvious. The city councillors were having a “secret” meeting, and there was only one topic Lorna could imagine they would be talking about: her.
“Why is that policeman chasing you, Lorna?”
For just an instant Lorna was too stunned to answer. Gwendolyn had called a special “secret” meeting with these council members to try to get her fired? Lorna should have known the woman would pull something like this.
Lee’s labored steps behind her brought her back to the present problem. “That’s not a cop chasing me. He has a bomb taped to his chest. There’s another one down below with an assault rifle. They’re taking city hall hostage. Get back into the meeting room. Now!”
Lorna herded everyone back down the hall to the meeting room, Gwendolyn arguing all the way. Lorna shoved her into the room after the others, closed the door and locked it. Lee had been only a few yards away. She leaned against the door and looked at the others.
She’d worked hard for these councillors, and here they were, meeting in secret to get rid of her. The traitors. She almost wished she’d left them all outside the door for whatever those two men had planned for them.
Except for Fred, she thought, letting her gaze fall on her favorite councilman. He wasn’t like the others. He was kind and intelligent. A nice man. But Lorna knew that Gwendolyn had been trying to turn him against her.
“Barricade the door,” Lorna ordered. She’d have to deal with that problem later. Right now, there was something more pressing to take care of. “Barricade the door!”
For a moment no one moved. They all just stared at her as if she was the crazy one. D.A. Lalane started to call someone on his cell phone. “Don’t touch that cell phone. It might set off the bomb. Barricade the door, then get back from it. The man on the other side of this door has enough explosives taped to him to take out this entire room.”
She could hear Lee outside the door, trying the knob, kicking the door, then turning and retreating back down the hall.
Gwendolyn let out a shriek. “Oh, God, we’re all going to die.” She began to cry loudly. But it got the rest of them moving. D.A. Lalane pocketed his cell phone and ordered the others to help him with the large conference desk. Fred, of course, joined in to help Councilman James Baker and City Attorney Rob Dayton. Gwendolyn stood in the center of the room, wringing her hands and crying.
Lorna’s fingers were trembling, but more out of anger than fear as she carefully turned off her own cell phone. Two crazy men had barged their way into her city hall while upstairs a secret meeting had been in session to get rid of her. She didn’t know which made her angrier.
The law required all city council meetings to be public—unless the meeting was about personnel. If it had been about city personnel, the city manager would have been here. And since Lorna was the council’s only aide and Gwendolyn was dead-set on getting her fired, that definitely narrowed down the agenda of this meeting.
Tossing down her purse and the bag with her lunch and the cookies, Lorna picked up the meeting room phone, hoping the land line wouldn’t set off the bomb as she tapped out 911.
7:48 a.m.
KENNY CURSED THE WOMAN who’d kicked him and mentally listed all the things he was going to do to her when he caught her. And he would catch her. She couldn’t get out of the building and there wasn’t anyone around to help her. All he had to do was trap her on one of the upper floors.
He was so sure they were alone in the building that he was startled by the sound of raised voices overhead. A woman let out a shriek. Not the woman who’d kicked him. Then he thought he heard several men’s voices. What the hell?
He listened to the sound of voices, then footfalls upstairs, a door slamming, locking. He swore under his breath. Where the hell was Lee? Why hadn’t he stopped the woman?
This should have been a piece of cake. They were supposed to overpower the Lorna Sinke woman. Hell, as small and frail-looking as she was, it should have been a cinch.
Once he had a hostage and city hall, Kenny thought he’d be calling the shots. He could hear Lee’s arduous footsteps coming back down the stairs. He’d never expected the damned fool to show up wearing a bomb.
As Kenny got to his feet, he told himself that this wasn’t going as he’d planned, and it was all that damned Sinke woman’s fault. He swore he could hear her upstairs giving orders. The bitch.
He looked up at the sound of Lee’s shuffling feet.
“They all went into a room and locked the door,” Lee said.
“They all?” Kenny demanded.
“I recognized most of them. Three city council members, the district attorney and city attorney.” Lee nodded. “I think that was all. I only got a glimpse of them before they closed the door. Ms. Sinke was with them.”
Ms. Sinke? Lee was calling the bitch Ms. Sinke? Kenny swore. He was going to kill Ms. Sinke. The only good thing was that it sounded like he had some more hostages he could use as leverage. He didn’t need Sinke anymore.
As he turned toward the front of city hall and the wide staircase, he heard a sound that made him freeze and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. It was the click of a door opening.
Spinning around, Kenny brought his rifle up, shocked to see that Lee hadn’t locked and barricaded the door as Kenny had told him to.
A man in his middle forties, dressed like an undertaker in a dark suit, came walking in with an air about him as if he owned the place. Who in the hell was this? He looked vaguely familiar in a way that made Kenny nervous.
What were all these people doing here?
The man was so preoccupied he didn’t see them at first. He stopped when he did, not showing any concern at first to see two policemen in city hall before it opened for the day.
But then his gaze took in the assault rifle in Kenny’s hands. Kenny pointed the barrel at the man’s chest.
“Well, if it isn’t Judge Lawrence Craven,” Kenny said, and laughed, finally recognizing him. He looked different without his robe on and that bench in front of him.
Craven studied him for a moment. “Four years for burglary.”
Kenny smiled. “You remembered. I’m touched. What the hell are you doing here before city hall opens, anyway?”
Craven glanced toward the stairs but didn’t answer.
Obviously he’d come by to see someone, but he didn’t want to say who. Now why was that?
Not that it mattered. This was a stroke of luck. “Lee, we just got a real break. This hostage is better than your Ms. Sinke or all the councilmen and lawyers in the world. Make sure no one else can come through that damned door and let’s go see what other hostages we have.”
7:54 a.m.
AS ANNA WALKED with Flint down the hallway to the briefing room, she couldn’t have been more aware of him. After all these years, they were here together. Only not together. Not even close.
When she thought back to when they’d first met…She shook her head. What happened to those two people who were so head-over-heels in love?
She smiled to herself at the memory of the first time he’d asked her for a date. She could practically smell the salt, hear the Pacific breaking on the sandy beach, feel the sun on her back. She’d been coming out of the water, her surfboard tucked under her arm, happy in her element, when she’d seen someone waiting for her.
She’d squinted into the sun, seeing first the dark silhouette of a man, then the uniform. A cop. Her heart sank. Bad news. Something to do with her family?
“Hi,” he said. “You probably don’t remember me.” He seemed so different in the uniform, sand sticking to his freshly polished black cop shoes, and looked as out of place and uncomfortable as anyone she’d ever seen.
“You’re a cop,” she said, relieved and yet feeling foolish. Of course he was a cop. She knew that. She’d just forgotten that part and hadn’t recognized him in uniform for a moment. He hadn’t been in Southern California long; his skin was not yet tanned. His hair was straight black. One errant lock hung down over one dark eye.
How could she have forgotten that deep, wonderful voice? Or that boyish face? Or that bump on his forehead?
She reached out to gently touch the knot on his head. “I see some of the swelling has gone down.”
He grinned. “You remember me, I guess.”
“How could I forget?” she joked, remembering the huge bump he’d gotten on his head from being hit by a fly ball during a cop tournament baseball game, then the crazy ambulance ride to the hospital, where the doctor had assured them both that it was only a slight concussion. And all the time, the guy’d been trying to get her home phone number.
He’d insisted she not leave his side, even with the entire police department baseball team packed into the hospital emergency room, all laughing as Flint pleaded his case for her phone number, saying it was her fault he got hit by that fly ball. If he hadn’t been admiring her….
She’d finally given him the number. But he’d never called.
Instead he’d shown up at the beach, and he was so shy, so sincere, so nervous he seemed like a different guy.
“You saved my life,” he said.
Right. “It wasn’t quite that dramatic.”
“You’re wrong.” He settled those dark eyes on her. “It was for me. It was the luckiest day of my life.”
That day at the ballpark he’d been wearing the T-shirt she’d carried around with her for the last five years. His lucky shirt, he used to call it. Lucky because he’d been wearing it the day he met her.
She normally didn’t date his type. Jocks. Stars of one sport or another. The kind of guys her sister Emily always dated. And ended up marrying.
Anna had only given him her number that day at the hospital to shut him up. She’d never expected him to call. If he had called, she would have turned him down. And saved them both a lot of grief. Instead he’d shown up at the beach, looking sweet and shy and anxious as he asked her to dinner.
And fool that she’d been, she’d said yes. Look where that had gotten them, she thought now, dragging herself out of the memory as Flint halted at the door to the briefing room.
He opened the door and stood back to let her enter.
“After you,” she said. “Just one of the team.”
He made a face. “Right.” He turned and entered the room ahead of her.
She braced herself. There were always a few men on a SWAT team who had trouble accepting a woman among them. Fortunately most of the men were younger, more in tune with the times. Flint, she hoped, would prove to be the exception rather than the rule, since the Courage Bay SWAT team was all men.
As she stepped into the briefing room, she heard a male voice ask, “You are aware that the last time a paramedic went in with us, she was injured?”
There was some grumbling agreement.
“That’s why I’ve gone with a paramedic with SWAT training and experience,” Max answered. “Anna can handle herself under pressure. She knows the danger. She’s going to surprise you all.”
Anna flushed. “Thank you, Chief Zirinsky,” she said, moving out from behind Flint to meet a lot of very male faces.
To her surprise, Flint stepped to her side. “Gentlemen, this is Anna Carson, our new SWAT team paramedic. Anna, if you will,” he said, giving her the floor.
She looked at the men, then laid it out for them in a flat, no-nonsense account. “I am SWAT trained, second in my class. I spent three years on a Washington, D.C., SWAT team. I received several medals for bravery and dedication to duty. I have been involved in tactical situations from bank robberies and terrorist attacks to domestic disputes and hostage-suicides.” She stopped before adding, “I’m honored to be part of your SWAT team, and I look forward to working with all of you.”
Silence. Then, “This isn’t Washington, D.C. We don’t have the same kind of manpower.” It was one of the older men. His name tag read T.C. Waters. “I, for one, don’t like the idea of a woman on the team. Call me old-fashioned—”
“Old-fashioned and a true chauvinist,” Flint said, and laughed. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, T.C. They’re even letting women vote nowadays.”
“Aw, T.C. even gripes about women reporters on the field during a football game,” a younger SWAT member called from the back.
“Yeah, he says he doesn’t like the sound of their voices,” said another one. More laughter.
“The bottom line here is that Anna’s on the team,” Flint said, looking over at her. “We treat her like we would any other team member. Forget she’s a woman.”
There were some chuckles. “Yeah, right,” one of the guys retorted. “At least you could have hired an ugly one, Chief.”
Even Max laughed this time. The desk sergeant stuck his head in the doorway. “Chief.”
Max went to the door and immediately called Flint over.
Anna didn’t have to hear what they were saying. She saw Flint’s face, saw the color drain from it and the look he gave her.
His gaze met hers, then moved past to his men. “City hall. Possible hostage situation. Suit up.”
CHAPTER FOUR
8:02 a.m.
FLINT KNEW THE DRILL by heart: contain and control. The command center was quickly set up in the briefing room with a view of city hall out the window.
“Lock down that building,” he ordered into the high-tech headset that let him communicate with the tactical force.
Behind him, Max was barking out orders, as well. “Get me blueprints. I need an exact location of the meeting rooms on the second floor, all air-conditioning vents and the phone panel.”
Techies raced into the room with TV monitors, both visual and audio devices and phone systems. Outside, barricades had gone up and the streets were swarming with firefighters and policemen. An ambulance pulled through the barricade. Just a precaution, he told himself. Just like Anna being here.
He couldn’t believe Anna had chosen this day to begin work. All his fears seemed to be coming true. He had to diffuse this situation stat before someone got hurt and Max wanted to send Anna in.
Max pulled him aside, moving the two of them to the northwest corner of the room to look kitty-corner across the street at city hall. Normally they would have set up the command center across the street from the incident. But with the police station so close, it made sense to set it up here.
From the window Flint had a good view of the right wing and part of the back of the building. The large, old, white-stone building, U-shaped and three stories high, glistened in the sun, the windows like mirrors. Even at this angle, the back employee entrance was partially hidden from view by the oleander hedge. Nothing looked amiss. Nothing gave them any indication that a siege was going on inside.
“I’ve ordered an evac of the area and the perimeter cleared for four blocks,” Max said.
Flint looked at the chief in surprise. “Four blocks?”
“We have the aide to the city council, Lorna Sinke, patched through dispatch. She says one of the subjects has an assault rifle.” He met Flint’s gaze. “The other has a homemade bomb duct-taped to his chest. I’ve put the bomb squad on notice. Unknown type.”
Flint felt his heart drop. Oh, yeah, Anna had picked one hell of a day to start her new job. It would be a miracle if he and his team could defuse this crisis without anyone getting hurt and needing a paramedic.
“Do we have any idea who these guys are or what they want?” Flint asked.
“So far all we know is their names. Kenny and Lee. But Sinke says she thinks Lee’s name is Harper. She thinks he’s been at the city council meetings the last couple of months talking about the loss of his wife…blames the city. She said she got the impression he wasn’t well. We’re trying to find out just who all is in the building. Thank God this is happening so early in the morning, but once the media gets wind of it…. I’m going to put Sinke on the speaker phone as soon as the techies get everything hooked up.” They would be able to hear her, but Max would talk to her on a private line. “Bradley is out with the flu, the other negotiators are on vacation, so I’m taking this one myself.”
Flint glanced over at him, but Max gave no indication he was doing it for any other reason. Like the fact that it was Anna’s first day and he wasn’t taking any chances because of it.
Sirens blared outside as police and fire departments responded to the call. Fire Chief Dan Egan reported in that he had the four-block area secured.
Overhead came the whoop-whoop of a helicopter taking off from the pad on the roof.
“Building perimeter secure,” came the report from one of the tactical teams. “Marksmen observers in place. Tactical team in position. Waiting for orders to breach building.”
Flint looked over at Max. Every incident was situational. No one thing was ever the same. That meant each incident was handled differently. Facts were gathered as quickly as possible, then a rational decision was made based on what approach would cost the least number of lives.
There was always a risk. Flint had been in explosive domestic situations that turned violent. He’d confronted armed subjects holed up in alleys, barricaded suicidal subjects and hostage situations involving drunks, crazies, suicidal maniacs with sawed-off shotguns and crying little kids being held by doped-up, drugged-out parents.
Every situation had the potential to blow up in your face at any moment. This one wouldn’t have been any different from all the others—if it hadn’t been for Anna being here.
Flint looked up, as if sensing her presence. Anna entered the room and came toward them. Five years hadn’t dulled his awareness of her any more than it had his feelings.
Their eyes met for a moment, then Anna pulled away. Flint swore under his breath and Max looked up. “Anna, good. I want you in on all of this so we know what we’re up against if you have to go in.”
Unlike the other SWAT team members now securing the perimeter of city hall, she was dressed in fire department paramedic gear except for the Kevlar vest over her short-sleeved shirt. She carried a jump kit with the basic paramedic supplies and stood, waiting for orders. The hostage takers would think she was just another paramedic. Flint swore under his breath as he realized how vulnerable she would be. This was exactly what he’d feared five years ago.
Max listened to dispatch on his headset, nodding. A frown furrowed his brows increasing Flint’s concern.
“Sinke isn’t the only civilian in the building,” Max said when he got off. “The mayor’s out of town, but one of the councilmen home sick with the flu that’s going around said there was an early morning meeting to discuss an employee problem. The district attorney was in attendance, as well as the city attorney and three council persons.”
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B.J. Daniels
Armed men take over City Hall. A woman is shot–and a hostage will be killed every hour if demands aren't met. SWAT paramedic Anna Carson is going in…Five years ago Anna Carson left Courage Bay…and SWAT commander Flint Mauro. Now she's back, and assigned to Flint's team during a hostage-taking at City Hall. Flint is furious. SWAT is no place for a woman–especially Anna. He couldn't handle it then. But can he handle it now? All Flint knows is that Anna is determined to go in and save an injured hostage. And Flint won't be letting her go in alone….
Press Release
From: Max Zirinsky, Chief of Police, Courage Bay
To: KSEA Television
Re: Hostage situation at City Hall
This morning at approximately 7:30 a.m., council aide Lorna Sinke was accosted by two armed men posing as police officers at Courage Bay City Hall. When Ms. Sinke attempted to escape, she was pursued by the two men to a second-floor conference room where an early-morning meeting was in progress. At this point, the armed men are holding Ms. Sinke, three city councilors, the district and city attorneys and a judge at gunpoint in the barricaded room.
The Courage Bay SWAT team has secured a four-block area around City Hall. It is imperative that all media representatives stay well back from this area and do not interfere with emergency services personnel.
Be aware that the situation at City Hall is extremely volatile. Reports indicate that one of the men is armed with a homemade bomb. SWAT commander Flint Mauro is well trained to handle the situation. As of today, Anna Carson, formerly a paramedic with the Courage Bay fire department, has joined the team. Carson brings her considerable experience as a SWAT-trained paramedic in Washington, D.C., to this incident.
I will attempt to keep you updated as the morning progresses. It is our goal to defuse this incident with no loss of life. Any media interference will jeopardize that objective and will not be tolerated.
About the Author
B.J. DANIELS
wrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirty-seven published short stories. That first book, Odd Man Out, received a 4½-star review from Romantic Times BOOKreviews magazine and went on to be nominated for Best Intrigue for that year. Since then she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense and numerous nominations and awards for best book.
Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels, Spot and Jem. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Daniels is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America.
To contact her, write B.J. Daniels, P.O. Box 1173, Malta, MT 59538, or e-mail her at bjdaniels@mtintouch.net. Check out her Web page at www.bjdaniels.com.
Crossfire
B.J. Daniels
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
Being a part of the CODE RED series was a thrill for me—and a little frightening. I’d never imagined what it would be like to be in a hostage situation with dangerous men who had nothing to lose.
Being in that room with my characters, I found myself just wanting to get them out of there—and me with them.
I am in awe of SWAT teams everywhere. I admire their commitment and their ability to keep a cool head when everyone around them is losing theirs.
It was a pleasure to be part of such an interesting series with a great bunch of writers.
B.J. Daniels
Many thanks to Twyla Geraci,
who trained to be a SWAT paramedic.
Also, Sergeant Jason Becker with the local SWAT team.
This book is dedicated to you
and the other men and women who risk their lives
every day to keep us safe.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
9:40 p.m. Thursday
LEE HARPER was no longer sure he could trust himself. Sometimes he would be in the living room and call to Francine to come see a show on TV. When she didn’t respond, he would go looking for her.
And only then would he remember that his wife was dead.
She’d been killed seven weeks ago at the convenience store where she worked part-time. An aftershock from the earthquake had caused the store to collapse. Help hadn’t arrived until it was too late to save her.
Knowing all of that, Lee Harper still found himself turning to speak to her and was always shocked and a little disoriented to find her gone. Not that unusual after forty-six years of marriage. No children. Francine had conceived four times, all miscarriages, all heartbreaking. They had stopped trying, stopped talking about children. It was better that way.
He’d been an English professor until last year, when he retired. He could recite complete Shakespeare plays from memory, knew hundreds of poems, and in all those years had never forgotten even one of his students’ names.
Until lately.
“It’s just grief,” friends and colleagues had said. They’d been supportive at first. But as the weeks went by, they suggested he see a doctor.
No one understood that his mind had started to go when Francine was killed.
Now sometimes he left the stove on. Sometimes he didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten there. His grief felt like a tumor inside him, eating him alive, destroying a mind that had once been “sharp as a tack.”
For a while the question—when he was thinking straight—had just been what to do. How could he right the terrible wrong of Francine’s death? That question had kept him awake for days and left him feeling impotent. There was no way to fix things. No way.
Then he’d met Kenny Reese. And for the first time in weeks, he’d no longer felt confused. Kenny had a plan.
Lee Harper stared down at the crude drawing he’d made of city hall. It was a historic building, U-shaped, one wide marble stairway up the middle, one elevator at the back. For the past week he had staked out the place and knew exactly when everyone arrived each morning and who stopped for lattes and doughnuts, as well as the security system and the exits.
But as he took off his watch and set it next to the blasting cap and explosives, he felt a tremor of doubt. Was this what Francine would have wanted? He no longer knew.
It was the only thing he could think to do, and he had to do something. He couldn’t explain this urgency in him, a feeling that if he didn’t act now, he might not be able to later.
Anyway, the plan was already in place. In a matter of hours it wouldn’t be just one old man who mourned Francine Harper’s death. When Lee finished, the entire city of Courage Bay, California, would finally feel her loss.
9:50 p.m.
ANNA CARSON lifted the last item from the suitcase. A worn extra-large white T-shirt, the lettering faded almost beyond recognition: Property of Courage Bay Police Department.
Instinctively she brought the soft cloth to her face and sniffed, as if Flint’s scent would still be there after five years. Funny, but for a moment, she thought it was. A masculine, clean scent that had always made her heart pound.
She couldn’t believe she’d been dragging his old T-shirt around with her all these years. At first, after the breakup, she’d slept in the shirt. It was huge on her, falling past her knees, wide enough for two of her. Just the size of it reminded her of how she’d felt in Flint’s arms. Totally wrapped up.
Wishful thinking. And that wasn’t like her.
Well, she didn’t need the shirt anymore, or the memories, she thought as she glanced out the open patio doors of her new apartment, breathing in the sight and smell of the Pacific. The sea was glassy, golden in the last of the day’s light. From the third-story deck, she could hear the waves breaking on the sandy beach. It was one of the reasons she’d taken this apartment. Here she had the view, the sounds and smells of the only place that had ever felt like home.
Too bad everyone in her family had moved away after her parents divorced. Her dad at least was only upstate, a few hours away by plane, in Sacramento. Her mother was in Alabama with her family. Her sister Emily and husband Lance were in Seattle.
It was as though everyone had scattered after Anna left. As if the family had blown apart. Not that it hadn’t been ready to blow before Anna had announced that her engagement to Flint was off.
“You didn’t really throw the ring at him!” Her sister Emily had given her the eye roll that meant she thought Anna had done something irrational. Her younger sister had been giving her the eye roll for as long as Anna could remember.
“The ring is yours to keep,” her mother had said, always the mercenary.
Anna had looked at the two of them as if they’d lost their minds. “I never want to see that ring again. Ever.”
Her mother and Emily had exchanged a she-is-never-going-to-get-it look. To them, there was no higher calling than a wedding ring on a woman’s finger.
Anna had figured the timing was as good as any to tell them the rest of her news. “I’m going to Washington, D.C., and become a SWAT team paramedic.” She was rewarded with gasps from both mother and sister. She’d looked to her dad, expecting his support.
Anna frowned now at the memory. She’d thought he would be excited about her decision.
Instead he’d looked worried and upset. “If you’re certain that’s what you want to do,” he’d said. “But make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons, Anna.” Not exactly what she’d been expecting.
“Isn’t it…dangerous?” Emily had asked.
“That’s what she likes about it,” her mother had said. “She wants to turn my hair completely gray.” Everything was always about their mother.
Anna shrugged off the past and the memories that had tried to weigh her down the last five years. She wasn’t responsible for her parents’ divorce—no matter what her sister said.
“You becoming a SWAT whatever was the straw that broke the camel’s back,” Emily had accused her at the time.
“Thank you, Emily, I really needed that,” Anna had replied. “I’m sure it was me and not the fact that our parents have never gotten along, were never compatible in any way, and now, finally free of children, can happily go their separate ways.”
“They used to be in love,” Emily had said indignantly. “Before…before everything that happened.”
Anna turned now to survey her apartment, not surprised that coming back to Courage Bay would stir up the ghosts of her past. The apartment, though, was perfect—small, but the view of the ocean made up for space. She took another deep breath of the night air and let it out slowly. It did feel good to be back.
A tremor of excitement rippled through her. She hugged herself, wrapping her arms around Flint’s T-shirt, still in her hands. The excitement was quickly replaced with anxiety. Flint. Eventually she would run into him. He must be a detective by now and on the fast track for the chief of police job. Hadn’t that always been his dream?
She wondered how he’d take the news that she was back in town. Unfortunately she didn’t have to guess how he would react to her new job. Not that it mattered to her one way or the other. Not anymore.
It probably wouldn’t matter to him, either, she realized. Not after five years. Flint was a formidable ghost, one she’d spent years trying to exorcize from her thoughts. She doubted it had taken that long for him to forget her.
Walking to the open deck door, she breathed in the sea air, trying to clear her thoughts. There was nothing more to do tonight. She was moved in and would start work in the morning. She had a 7:30 a.m. meeting with Chief of Police Max Zirinsky.
She doubted she’d be able to sleep a wink, she was so excited. She had the job she’d set out to get. A great apartment. And she was back in Courage Bay. Nothing could spoil it. Not even the thought of Flint Mauro.
She glanced back over her shoulder at the phone book, which she’d left open on the bed. Okay, she hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d looked up his number. Just to see if he was even still in town. He was, although he had a different number from the one they’d had when they’d lived together. It seemed he’d moved to the harbor area. She didn’t recognize the address, but then, Courage Bay had grown since she’d left.
Anna had made a point of not keeping up with local news during those years she’d been gone. Since her family had moved away, there had been no reason to come back to Courage Bay until this job offer.
For a while after she’d left, she’d stayed in touch with friends in town, but quickly realized she didn’t want to know what Flint was doing, didn’t want to hear about his latest girlfriend or any stories about his latest case.
For all she knew, Flint could be married by now with a couple of kids.
The pang of regret surprised her. She thought she’d long ago forgotten those silly talks they used to have lying in bed, debating what their babies would look like. They had both wanted a large family. They’d even come up with some names. What was the one that had made them both laugh so hard?
She shook herself out of that thought pattern and closed the deck doors. She had put Flint and Courage Bay behind her. Until Max had called with the job offer and she’d realized there was nothing she wanted more than to come back home. Courage Bay had been her home all but five of her twenty-nine years.
Now she wondered why she hadn’t asked Max about Flint when he’d offered her the job. Max had known them both well. He’d known how devastated she’d been when she’d had to break off the engagement and leave.
She guessed the reason she hadn’t asked Max was that she didn’t want him thinking she was still hung up on Flint Mauro. Because she wasn’t. Flint had nothing to do with her life anymore. Nor she with his.
As she turned, she realized she still had his T-shirt in her hands. She walked over to her new wastebasket and dropped the shirt into it. Tomorrow she started her new life in Courage Bay. No regrets. No looking back. She wasn’t the same young woman who’d left here, and she was bound and determined to prove it.
10:15 p.m.
FLINT MAURO stood on the stern of the boat he called home and stared out at the Pacific. A cool breeze stirred his thick black hair, lifting it gently from his forehead. He frowned as he took in the familiar horizon.
Do Whatever It Takes. That was his motto, wasn’t it? Do Whatever It Takes. And that’s what he did every day. Focusing on his job, his boat, his workouts. Not thinking about the past. The past was too painful. And yet it was there. A splinter just under his skin. On nights like tonight he could feel it pricking him, making him itch for something he’d once had—and had lost.
The flag on the bow flapped restlessly in the breeze coming off the sea. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the familiar scents of the ocean and the night. He’d bought the boat and moved aboard five years ago, the only place that he found any peace.
And yet sometimes he thought he smelled her perfume on the sea breeze. On those nights, he would swear that he heard her soft chuckle next to his ear, felt her pass by so close that her skin brushed against his, making him ache with a need that only she could fill. Unfortunately tonight was one of those nights.
Why was he thinking about Anna now? After all this time? He’d jumped right back into dating after she’d broken off their engagement.
“Get back on the horse before you forget how to ride,” his friends had advised.
So he’d dated. A lot. But none of the women, no matter how pretty or sweet or capable, was Anna Carson.
“You can’t replace cream with water,” his boss, Police Chief Max Zirinsky, had said.
“If you’re suggesting I was the one who threw out the cream, the cream being Anna, you’re wrong. She’s the one who broke up with me,” Flint had told him. “And don’t give me that look. It wasn’t my fault.”
Max had just shaken his head. “Someday you’ll figure it out. I hope.”
Max. Flint had a meeting with him first thing in the morning. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep—not knowing what was waiting for him tomorrow morning at the office. There’d been a rumor going around at work that the chief was going to be making some changes. And just before Flint had left work today, Max had called him into his office.
He and Max had always been close. Not that they didn’t disagree at times. Nor did Flint ever forget who was boss.
But when he’d followed Max into his office, Flint had been surprised that the chief had gone behind his desk and immediately begun to busy himself with some papers.
Max didn’t look up. Nor did his voice convey any warmth, as if he’d been expecting an argument out of Flint.
“I’d like you at a meeting tomorrow morning. Seven a.m.” Max continued sorting the paperwork on his desk.
“Seven a.m.?” Flint asked in surprise.
“Is that a problem?” Max finally looked up.
“No,” Flint said quickly, wondering what he’d done that had put Max on edge. “Can’t you tell me what this is about?”
“Seven a.m.,” Max repeated. “We’ll discuss it then.”
Flint had wisely left without another word. He knew Max well enough not to argue. At least not all the time. Flint had learned to pick his battles.
Was he looking at a battle in the morning? He had a bad feeling he was. He stared out at the sea, surprised again that his thoughts drifted back to Anna. What was it about tonight? Whatever it was, he’d play hell getting a decent sleep this night.
10:30 p.m.
LORNA SINKE opened a can of cat food and set it on the counter. As soon as she did, the cat jumped up and began eating with enthusiasm. A cat eating on the kitchen counter. Her mother must be rolling over in her grave, Lorna thought with a smile. There’d never been pets in this house. Not while Lorna’s parents had been alive, and they’d both lived to their eighties.
“Pets are filthy and messy,” her mother used to say. “Who needs them?”
Lorna needed them. She’d spent her whole life in this house with its spotless, lifeless furnishings. It had taken some time after her parents had died, but she’d finally gotten rid of the smell of pine cleaner.
She looked around the kitchen, pleased. The first thing she’d done was strip the curtains from all the windows and discard them. Then she’d painted over the flowered wallpaper. The furniture had had to go, as well. Her father’s recliner. Her mother’s rocker. She hadn’t been able to bear looking at them, thinking she could see her parents’ impressions in them, if not their ghosts come back to haunt her.
Lorna opened several more cans of cat food for the other cats and set them on the floor. How odd that her neighbors and some old family friends would think she was lonely in this big old house without her parents.
All those years spent taking care of the two of them. When other women were getting married, having children, making homes for themselves, Lorna Sinke had been nursing her aging parents. The good daughter.
And to think that her sister was shocked that their parents had left Lorna the house. Hadn’t she earned it? Her younger sister had gotten out as quickly as she could, purposely getting pregnant to escape, Lorna had always suspected.
Well, it was her house now, she thought as she made herself some toast, standing at the kitchen window to butter it and smear a thick layer of jam on it. Her mother would have thought so much jam wasteful. Lorna could feel her mother’s disapproval as she ate the toast and stared out into the darkness. She realized that she’d been waiting all those years for her life to begin. Too bad it had taken the deaths of her parents. Not that Lorna hadn’t felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders when they were finally gone.
She shuddered, remembering finding the two of them at the foot of the basement stairs. Her mother must have gone down to the basement for something, fallen and cried out. It would be just like her father to go down there instead of calling 911.
Two nasty falls. Both fatal. It hadn’t surprised Lorna, given her father’s condition. Couldn’t remember anything, even what had happened just moments before. And her mother, always nagging him to do one thing or another.
Lorna had warned them both about those basement steps, but neither of them had ever listened to anything she had had to say.
She tried not to think about it. Her parents were both in a better place. She liked to imagine her father floating on a cloud, at peace at last. Her mother was no doubt making hell more hellish.
Getting out her mother’s cookbook, Lorna went to work making her famous sugar cookies. Her mother and father had loved them. She’d made the cookies the night before their fatal falls, putting in her secret ingredient, just like she did tonight.
When the cookies were finished baking, she put them in an airtight container and set them by the front door so she wouldn’t forget to take them to work, then she checked her watch.
Time to get to bed. As aide to the city council for years, she had the run of city hall and she loved it. Hers was the real power in Courage Bay. Without her, the city would come to a screeching halt.
She turned out the kitchen light. Tomorrow she could wear her new blue dress, the one the saleslady said brought out the blue in her eyes. She wondered if her favorite councilman would notice.
There was just one fly in the ointment, as her mother used to say. Councilwoman Gwendolyn Clark.
Lorna glanced at the container of cookies by the door. But she planned to take care of that problem tomorrow. Her life was finally going the way it always should have gone, and she wasn’t about to let anything—or anybody—mess it up.
10:37 p.m.
KENNY COULDN’T SIT STILL. He paced the trailer feeling as if his skin itched from the inside out. There was only one way to scratch it, but the pills were all gone.
He tried to concentrate on tomorrow. Lottery day, and he was going to be the big winner. All he had to do was to hold it together until then. He knew he’d never be able to sleep tonight. He was too excited at the prospect of being rich.
He picked up the photograph of his sister as he passed the corner table, looking into her face. “It’s all going to work out, Patty. Thanks to you.”
It was pretty amusing when he thought about it. Even from her grave, his big sis was looking out for him. And to think just days ago he didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t have money to pay his rent, the creditors had been calling every day—that was, until the phone company had disconnected the phone—and there was no one to turn to for help with Patty gone. It had looked as if he’d be out in the street.
And then his luck had changed when he met Lee Harper at that bar near city hall. What a wack job that guy was. Talk about hanging from a slim thread, and to think the guy used to be some well-known professor. Kenny had listened to the guy go on and on about the meeting he’d been to at city hall and how he blamed the city for his wife’s death, until finally Kenny had said, “Why don’t you do something about it besides cry in your club soda?”
“Like what?”
“Like make the bastards pay for what they did.” Pay had been the word that had echoed in his own head. Yeah, pay.
“How?”
Kenny gave it a little thought. Hell, people did it all the time on TV. “You could take over city hall, make them sit up and take notice.”
Lee perked right up after that.
“But they won’t unless you’re serious,” Kenny pointed out.
“Serious how?”
“Have a weapon or two to hold off the cops until your demands are met,” Kenny said, the idea growing on him. Demands. How much money would the city come up with if a wacko had city hall? Better yet, if the wacko had a hostage? A hundred thousand bucks? More?
Lee was crying in his club soda again. “Forcibly take city hall for what purpose besides getting arrested? Anyway, nothing can bring Francine back.”
Kenny thought fast. “You said you wanted to make a difference? So you’re just going to give up?”
“What choice do I have? I’ve been to the city council meetings. I’m just one small voice in a city that has too many other problems to care about mine.”
“Exactly,” Kenny said. “You need to make yourself heard. If you took city hall hostage, you could demand that something be done. Hell, you would be on television. Everyone would know what happened to your wife. The city would have to do something.”
“A bit drastic—”
“Seems to me drastic measures are needed,” Kenny said, trying to come up with something to appease the old fart. “How else can you be sure that the city won’t let something like this happen again? You want your wife’s life to count for something, right? Think of the lives you might save.”
Lee was looking at him through his wire-rimmed glasses, as if actually considering what Kenny was saying. The guy tended to zone in and out, but Kenny thought he finally had the old fool’s attention.
“We both lost someone we loved because of this city, man,” Kenny said, realizing when it came down to it, he’d been wronged, too. “We can’t just sit back and do nothing.” This might actually work. “You want to get the city to listen to you? Stick with me. We’ll get their attention all right, man.”
“You would support my efforts?” Lee sounded so surprised and touched that Kenny almost laughed.
“Damn straight. You and I are going to teach this city a lesson that won’t soon be forgotten.” He patted the old man’s shoulder. “So do you think you can get yourself some firepower?”
Lee looked vague again, then nodded. “I suppose there is no other way?”
Kenny had shaken his head. “Sometimes you got to take a stand,” he’d said, already seeing how this was going to play out. The city would pay to keep the hostages alive. He’d demand five hundred thousand, a passport and a plane out of the country to some place where he couldn’t be extradited, just like the guys did on TV.
But it would only be a ticket for one. The old man wouldn’t be coming along. Kenny would make sure of that.
CHAPTER TWO
6:45 a.m. Friday
“IS THE CHIEF IN YET?” Flint Mauro asked as he walked through the employee entrance to the police station.
The desk sergeant looked up and nodded. “Said to tell you to come straight to his office. He’s waiting for you.”
Flint didn’t like the sound of that as he started down the hallway toward the watch commander’s office. He was early, but Max was already waiting for him? What the hell was that about? What the hell was any of this about?
Max’s door was closed. He tapped lightly.
“Come in,” said a gruff, impatient voice.
Flint stepped in, ready to take a good chewing out. He just wished he knew what for. “Chief,” he said.
Max motioned him into a chair without even looking up. Flint sat down uneasily and watched as his commander raked a hand through a head of thick, dark hair, then finally leaned back in his chair and looked at him, as if bracing himself for the worst.
At forty-five, the six-foot-two chief of police was as solid as a brick outhouse. He could be tough as nails, and yet normally, humor and compassion shone in his green eyes. Not this morning though.
Flint felt the full weight of his gaze. He waited, growing more worried by the moment. Something had happened, that much was clear. And it wasn’t something Flint was going to like.
“Flint, you and I have discussed at length my idea to put a paramedic on the SWAT team,” Max said after a moment.
Flint looked at him in surprise. This was what Max wanted to talk about? He relaxed a little. “And you know how I feel about it.”
Max sighed. “As you know, we had a court reporter, Lorraine Nelson, who suffered a heart attack during that shooting incident back in September. She lived, but suffered extensive damage to her heart and was forced to retire because of it. If the fire department’s paramedics could have gotten to her quicker, maybe she would have had a full recovery. George Yube died after the sniper shot him. Same story there. Had he gotten help faster, he might be alive today.” Max took a breath and let it out with a sigh. “The way it is now, we can’t get the victims any help until the area is secured. That’s not acceptable.”
“It’s not acceptable to send a paramedic into a dangerous situation until it is secured,” Flint said. “Otherwise you’re risking the paramedic’s life or simply offering the criminals another hostage. The bottom line is, we end up having another person to try to protect, as well as the victims, when our main priority is to stop the bad guy before he hurts anyone else.”
“I’ve taken all that into consideration,” Max said.
“Have you forgotten that the last time we let a paramedic in with the team, the paramedic almost got killed?”
“That paramedic wasn’t SWAT trained.”
Flint shook his head in frustration and shifted in his chair. “Why are we discussing this again? You already know my feelings on this subject and I know yours. How long are we going to debate this?”
Max tented his fingers under his chin, his gaze suddenly steely. “I didn’t ask you here to try to convince you. Or to ask for your approval.”
Flint felt his heart drop. “I see. Well, if your mind is made up, then why get me in here so damned early?” He swore under his breath as he rose to his feet. “You’re obviously moving ahead with this no matter how I feel.”
“Sit down, Flint.”
Flint dropped back into the chair with a sigh.
“I agree with all your arguments,” Max said quietly. “It is a risk, but one that I feel has to be taken for the victim’s sake.”
There was no talking Max out of this. Flint could see that now. “We have a couple of SWAT members with paramedic training who might be interested in the position, I suppose.”
Max shook his head. “I’ve found a paramedic with SWAT training and experience in situations we’ve been forced to deal with and some we haven’t yet.”
“Really?” Flint couldn’t hide his surprise. “So when does he start?” He knew his men weren’t going to like this any more than he did. This guy better be flat amazing.
There was a knock at the door. Max glanced at his watch. “The new SWAT team paramedic is here now, early, just like you were,” Max said with a wry smile as he got to his feet to answer the knock personally.
Flint turned in his chair as Max opened the door. He felt as if a Magnum .45 had been emptied into his chest when he saw the tall, slim figure framed in the doorway. He staggered to his feet, his brain telling him it was a mistake. Dear God, this couldn’t be the SWAT team paramedic.
7:15 a.m.
LORNA SINKE LOVED to get to city hall before anyone else. She lived in the older section of town, close enough to city hall that she walked to work. She liked the fresh air, the exercise and the quiet. There were few people on the streets and traffic was light this time of the morning.
She was a creature of habit, leaving her house every weekday morning at the same time. This morning was no different. Only today, she carried more than her usual lunch and thermos of coffee. Today, she had the cookies in the airtight container in her bag. They made a thumping sound as she walked, reminding her of what she planned to do before the day was over.
City hall came into view, the white-stone, three-story building shimmering in the bright blue morning. Lorna always experienced a sense of pride when she saw it. She loved the inside even more, with its ornate moldings and high ceilings.
Some people thought the old city hall building was cold and a waste of space, too much like a tomb, but Lorna loved it. A few years ago there was talk of tearing city hall down and building something modern. Over her dead body, Lorna had declared. After all the years she’d worked here, she felt as if it were her building. Fortunately the historical society had saved it. Lorna had led the charge—and made a few enemies along the way, including Councilwoman Gwendolyn Clark.
But that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to her problems with the councilwoman. Gwendolyn Clark was on a mission to get Lorna fired, saying it was time that Lorna retired and the council got some “new blood” in the position. Over Lorna’s dead body.
Crossing Washington Avenue, she walked down Robbin Street around to the employee entrance at the rear of city hall. Kitty-corner across the intersection of Bright and 12th streets, she caught a glimpse of the police department. She’d been taken there for questioning after her parents’ deaths. The building was new and impersonal, nothing like city hall. She was glad the city had put up a tall oleander hedge along the back of city hall that hid the newer buildings. Especially the police station. The sight of it only brought back bad memories and Lorna Sinke wasn’t one to dwell in the past.
As she walked through a narrow entrance in the oleander hedge, she stopped to pick up a candy wrapper someone had irresponsibly dropped. Muttering to herself, she stuffed the candy wrapper into her bag and pulled out the key she kept on her kitten key ring.
Her mind was on the day ahead and the outcome. She felt a ripple of excitement. If this day ended the way she’d planned it, she would be free of Gwendolyn Clark.
As Lorna inserted the key into the lock, she sensed someone approaching from behind but didn’t bother to turn around. Blast the woman to hell. Gwendolyn Clark had taken it upon herself to come in at the same time as Lorna every morning for the past two weeks. The councilwoman was spying on her. Gwendolyn said she was working on a special project. Lorna knew she was that special project. The woman was trying to dig up some dirt, something she could use to get rid of Lorna.
It was all she could do not to turn around and hit the woman with the heavy bag. Of course she wouldn’t do that. She did her best not to let Gwendolyn see how she felt about her. That alone had become a full-time job and one of the reasons Lorna had decided today she’d do something about the councilwoman.
Lorna turned the key in the lock, planning to say hello to Gwendolyn, pretending, as she had been for weeks, that she didn’t suspect what the woman was up to. Today she would be especially nice to her. It would make it easier later this afternoon when Lorna offered her one of her special cookies. If there was one thing Gwendolyn Clark couldn’t pass up, it was sweets.
As the door swung open, Lorna plastered a smile on her face and turned, expecting to see Gwendolyn Clark’s round, pinched face and disapproving gaze.
To Lorna’s surprise, it wasn’t Gwendolyn behind her but an elderly police officer, gray-haired, slim, wearing wire-rimmed glasses. He looked familiar. He was hunched over, as if in pain.
“Can you help me?” he said, his voice barely audible.
“Are you sick? Injured?” She fished for her cell phone and had just found it when a thirty-something man appeared from the edge of the oleander hedge along the street. Like the first, he, too, was dressed in a police uniform. But his hair was long and stringy, he’d done a poor job of shaving that morning, and part of his uniform shirt wasn’t tucked in. Her gaze caught on his shoes. He wore a pair of worn-out sneakers.
Lorna felt her first real sense of fear. This man, she thought as he ran toward her, was not a policeman. Before she could react, the first man straightened a little, reached out and grabbed her wrist.
She swung her bag with her lunch, the pint-size thermos and the container of cookies in it, catching the older of the two on the side of his head. He yelped and stumbled back, bumping into the disheveled-looking man. Lorna had stepped backward into the building with the swing of her bag. Now she fought to close the door, but the younger man was faster and stronger.
He drove the door back. She turned and ran deeper into the building, her cell phone still in her hand, her fingers punching out 91—
The younger man was on her before she could get out the last number.
7:18 a.m.
ANNA FELT ALL the breath knocked out of her as she looked past Max and saw Flint. She was shocked at how little he had changed. For a moment it was as if the last five years hadn’t happened and at any moment he would smile and she would step into his strong arms.
But then she saw his expression, a mixture of anger, bitterness and hurt, assuring her the years had been real, just like her reason for leaving.
His gaze turned colder than even she had expected. But it was her own reaction that surprised her. She had wondered what it would be like to see him again. She’d told herself she was over Flint Mauro. That there were no feelings left. For the past five years, she’d worked hard to forget him and get on with her life. She thought she’d done just that.
But she’d never expected it would hurt this much just seeing him.
“Anna,” Max said warmly. “Flint, Anna is our new SWAT team paramedic. Anna, Flint is our SWAT team commander.”
Anna could only stare in disbelief. Flint had always said he was going to be a detective and work his way to chief of police. He wanted to be one of those cops who used his brain instead of brawn, who didn’t have a job where he was always in the line of fire.
“I want to be able to come home to my wife and kids at night,” he had said. “I don’t want to be out there risking my life any more than I have to.”
Now he wore SWAT fatigues and a T-shirt with Do Whatever It Takes printed across the chest. What had happened in the last five years to change his mind?
“Please come in and sit down,” Max said to her, cutting through her painful memories.
Behind him, Flint was shaking his head. “What the hell? Max, you can’t be serious. This isn’t going to work.”
Max acted as if he hadn’t heard him. “Anna, are you all settled in?”
She nodded, afraid she couldn’t find her voice to speak.
Flint had turned away, anger in every line of his body. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.”
“Both of you—sit down,” Max ordered.
“Max, I had no idea that Flint was the SWAT commander,” Anna finally managed to say.
“Sit.”
They sat in the two chairs in front of his desk, neither looking at the other. But Anna couldn’t have been more aware of Flint. This close she could smell the light scent of his aftershave, the same kind he’d used when they’d been together. He exuded an energy that seemed to hum in the air around him, that buzzed through her, reminding her of what it was like being in that force field, the excitement, the dynamism.
“One of the reasons I had the two of you come in early is so that we could get this over with,” Max said. “Bitch and moan and then get past it. Flint, that’s why I didn’t tell you until now that I’d hired Anna. I didn’t want you stewing for weeks over this. The two of you will be working together. You have the jobs you do because you’re the best at what you do.”
“Why Anna?” Flint demanded as if she wasn’t in the room. “Anyone but Anna.”
“Excuse me?” she said, turning in her chair to look at him. “Is it possible I qualify for the job?”
Flint shot her a withering look. “I’m sure there are dozens, if not hundreds, of other paramedics who also qualify for the job.”
“For the past three years,” Max said, an edge to his voice, “Anna has excelled at this position in Washington, D.C., where she was in tougher situations than we’ve had in Courage Bay. She knows what she’s doing and she’s damned good at it.”
Flint was shaking his head. “Does it matter how I feel about this?”
“No,” Max said. “Anna’s good and she knows how our SWAT team operates because of her earlier experience as a paramedic with the Courage Bay fire department. She’s the perfect person for the job. That’s what’s important here. Not any petty differences the two of you might have.”
“Petty differences?” Flint snapped. “You might remember, Max, we were engaged to be married. Hell, you were going to be my best man. This is what tore us apart. Her insisting on endangering herself by training to go in with the SWAT team.”
“You endanger yourself with your job every day,” Anna pointed out. “I don’t see the difference.”
“You know damned well what the difference is.” Flint swung his gaze from her to Max. “She’s a woman. She needs to be there for our children.”
“You have children?” Max asked.
Flint shook his head in obvious frustration. “You know what I’m saying.”
Anna stared at Flint. When she’d first seen him after five years, all those old loving feelings had washed over her like a rogue wave, drowning her in wonderful memories of the two of them together, making her question how she’d ever been able to leave him.
But now as she looked at his obstinate expression, listened to him go on about a woman’s place, she knew she’d made the right decision five years ago. The man was from the Stone Age.
“Anna was the best candidate for this job. She can handle it. So don’t fight me on this, Flint.”
Max turned his attention to her. “Flint has excelled with the SWAT team. He’s shown himself a leader. That’s how he got the job of commander. There is only one question I want answered here this morning. Can you work together, or are you going to let your differences make it impossible? I have to know right now. Is your past relationship going to interfere with your performance?”
“As you pointed out, we have no relationship anymore,” Flint said. “Anna made that quite clear five years ago.”
Max shot him a warning look.
“It’s not going to be a problem for me,” Anna said, sounding more convinced than she was. She’d never dreamed she’d be working so closely with Flint. Was that why Max hadn’t told her? “Were you afraid I wouldn’t take the job? Is that why you didn’t warn me about Flint?”
“Would you have taken the job if I had told you?” Max asked her.
Her quick response surprised her. “Yes. This job is what I’ve wanted from the beginning. I’m not going to let anyone take that from me.” She glanced over at Flint. His jaw was set, rock-hard in anger. She knew that look too well. “I have no problem working with Flint. It’s been five years. I’ve moved past all that.”
Flint turned his head slowly to look at her and his wounded gaze pierced her heart.
“What about you, Flint?” Max asked.
Flint’s dark-eyed gaze was still on her. “Like she said, it’s water under the bridge.”
Anna heard the bitterness and anger. He hadn’t forgiven her for breaking off their engagement. No, she thought, what he hadn’t forgiven her for was not being the woman he wanted her to be. And to think she’d almost married the turkey.
“I need a united front here, Flint,” Max said.
Flint nodded. “I will treat her like my other SWAT team members. No problem.”
Anna recognized that sarcastic tone. Flint would make her life miserable on the team. But she wasn’t about to let him run her off. She wanted this job, she’d worked for it, she deserved it.
“I don’t want any special treatment,” she said, meeting Flint’s gaze. “I’m just one of the team.”
“You’ve got it,” he said.
Max sighed and got to his feet. “I’m going to leave the two of you alone to talk. Work it out between you. I’m meeting with the rest of the SWAT team in a few minutes. I’ll expect the two of you in the briefing room in ten minutes.” His gaze fell on Flint. “You’re both professionals. Act like it.”
Flint grunted.
“That’s the attitude,” Max said, but he smiled as he came around the desk and put his hand on Flint’s shoulder. “It’s great to have you on board, Anna. Five years was too long to be away. I’m glad you’re home.”
7:30 a.m.
THE ROOM SEEMED to shrink the moment Max left it. Flint got to his feet, needing to put distance between himself and Anna. He could smell her shampoo. The same kind she’d used when they’d been together. And her hair was the same: long, shiny, golden brown. Just as it had been the first time he’d seen her.
He’d thought about that day more times than he’d wanted to admit over the years. She’d been walking along the sidewalk by the ball field during one of the police department games. Something about the way she moved had caught his eye. There had been energy in her step. This was a woman who knew who she was and where she was going.
He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her, hoping she would look up. When she did, it had knocked the breath out of him. Her face was striking—the wide, brown eyes, the straight, almost aristocratic nose, the full, sensuous mouth. Her gaze radiated intelligence. Then she’d smiled; a bewildered smile, but still dazzling, blinding, enchanting.
It was as if Cupid had sunk an arrow into his heart. Not that he had ever told his buddies that. They’d have thought him crazy. What? Love at first sight? Get out of here.
He’d been so transfixed he hadn’t heard the crack of the bat, hadn’t seen the fly ball headed to left field, hadn’t seen anything but the woman of his dreams.
He still didn’t remember the ball hitting him in the head. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out. But when he opened his eyes, there she was, leaning over him.
“I’m a paramedic,” she’d said. “Lie still.” She’d gazed into his eyes, so close he could smell her sweet, slightly sweaty scent.
And he’d known this was the woman he was going to marry.
How wrong he’d been, he thought now as he looked over at Anna. The department’s new SWAT team paramedic. Great. He’d spent five years trying like hell to forget her. It could have been fifty years and it wouldn’t have made a difference, but now he would be working with her. The woman who’d walked out of his life after throwing his engagement ring at him. And after he’d spent days looking for the perfect ring for the perfect woman. What a fool he’d been.
And nothing had changed. Not his feelings of pain and regret. Not her lack of feelings for him, that was for sure. Except she was back, and now the SWAT team paramedic—the job he’d never wanted her to have.
He looked into her face, searching for some imperfection that would release her hold on him. She wasn’t beautiful. Not in the classic sense. She was striking, the kind of woman who made you do a double take when you saw her. A face you never forgot. Imperfect and yet perfect for him in a way that made him ache inside.
The more he’d been around her, the more deeply he’d fallen in love with her. He’d gotten caught up in her enthusiasm for life, her generosity, her sense of humor, her do-or-die attitude. He’d once told her that if he could bottle whatever it was that made her so special, he’d be a millionaire.
“Flint?”
He blinked, so deep in his thoughts he hadn’t realized she’d been talking to him.
“I was hoping we could do this in a civilized manner,” she said in a calm voice that irritated him more than if she’d sworn at him.
He stared at her. She didn’t even seem ruffled. Hell, maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she had gotten over him while he’d been wallowing in regret all these years. Maybe he was the biggest fool on the planet. Maybe there was no maybe about it.
“I see no reason why we can’t work together, two professionals, just doing our jobs,” she said.
He snorted. “You have to be kidding.” He was furious at her for walking out on him, for coming back for an even more dangerous job. Didn’t she know how impossible this situation was for him? Did she care?
“Why are you doing this?” he demanded. “You know how I felt about you working with the SWAT team. Are you just trying to rub it in my face?”
“That’s ridiculous. This has nothing to do with you.”
He glared at her. “My mistake.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t think I do.”
She lifted her chin, stubborn determination in her brown eyes and a coolness that had always brought out heat in him. He’d seen that look way too many times. Unfortunately he could also remember desire in those eyes.
“If you’re doing this just to get back at me—”
She laughed and shook her head, eyeing him as if she couldn’t believe him. “You haven’t changed a bit. You still think everything is about you.”
“Damn it, Anna, you’re wrong. I’m concerned as hell for you. You have no idea what you’re up against. I can just imagine what my men are going to think of a paramedic on the team—let alone a woman—let alone you, my ex-fiancée.” He tried to imagine this being any worse and couldn’t.
“You are underestimating your men,” Anna said coolly. “In my experience, the men follow the lead of their commander.”
He laughed. She’d just put it all on him. Anna had always been good at turning the tables on him. He glared at her, wanting desperately to take her in his arms and to kiss some sense into her. If only his love for her was enough that he could talk her out of this.
But it hadn’t been enough five years ago and it sure as hell meant nothing to her now.
“So, is there a man in your life?” he heard himself ask, and mentally kicked himself.
“I think we should keep our personal lives out of the office,” she said.
He wanted to laugh again. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“I’ve been busy the last five years. I really haven’t had time to—” She seemed to catch herself. “What about you?”
He raised an eyebrow. Did she really care one way or the other? “I guess we’ve both been too busy.” He looked into her eyes, searching for just a little of what they’d once had together.
She was the first to drag her gaze away. She brushed a hand through her hair. He couldn’t help but remember how her hair had felt in his fingers. He wondered if it would feel the same.
He turned away, unable to look at her as he found himself drowning in memories of the two of them together, laughing late at night, walking the beach as the sun rose over the city, talking for hours on the phone, making love—oh, lordie, yes, making wonderful, passionate love.
“Flint, this has been my life’s dream,” she said behind him. “This job. I’ve trained for years for it. Isn’t it possible that I just want to help people, that I want to make a difference?”
He felt anger bubble up inside of him as he turned to look at her again. “Being the mother to our children wouldn’t have made a difference in the world? No, sorry, that job wasn’t exciting enough for you.”
“That’s a cheap shot even for you,” she said. “I was twenty-four years old. I had worked hard to become a paramedic. I wasn’t ready to quit a rewarding, exciting job to become a mother yet. But after a while I would have loved to have been the mother of our children. You were the one who said I had to choose. Either I stayed home and started a family right after we were married, or I could pursue a career—without you.”
He shook his head. He hadn’t meant to take that position. He’d regretted it for years. “We could have worked it out if you’d given us a chance. Instead you threw the engagement ring at me and walked out, left town and obviously never looked back.”
“You mean, the way we’re working it out now?” she asked with an exasperated sigh.
“Damn it Anna, I know what it was like to grow up without a mother, remember? I didn’t want that for my kids. Is that so hard for you to understand?”
“No, but it was all right for their father to be a cop?” She narrowed her gaze at him. “I thought you were going to be a cop who used his brain and wasn’t risking his life all the time. What changed?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now, does it. We have no kids to worry about, and it seems we both think we can take care of ourselves just fine.” She was right. They never could have worked it out. He didn’t want his wife risking her life at her job. He wanted her at home with their kids.
“Flint, I had hoped you might understand.”
He shook his head. “This has to be the worst decision you’ve ever made, but then, I thought leaving me was the worst, and obviously you’ve proven me wrong. You seem perfectly happy with your decision.”
She raised her chin, that defiant, obstinate look in her eyes. “I am.”
“Then we have no problem,” he said, and opened the door. “Let’s get this over with.”
CHAPTER THREE
7:32 a.m. Friday
LEE HARPER had been feeling odd all morning. Now as he glanced around the main floor of city hall, everything had a surreal feel to it. He and Kenny were on the ground floor at the back of city hall and they had their hostage. Kenny’s plan had worked.
“Could you help me over here?” Kenny snapped.
He turned to see Kenny wrestling with the woman. Lorna Sinke. That was her name. She was a tiny little thing, thin with brown hair and a small face that made her dark eyes seem larger. He’d seen her when he’d come to the city council meetings. She reminded him of Francine.
“Lee? Could you get your ass over here?”
He shook himself. “Sure.” He moved, feeling bulky in the large, cumbersome police jacket.
Kenny had her down on the floor but she was fighting him, kicking, scratching, biting him.
“Get my gun,” Kenny ordered. “Shoot the bitch.”
“You said no one would get hurt.”
“Shoot her, damn it! Or I’ll shoot you!”
Lee picked up the assault rifle, which Kenny had dropped, and walked over to where the two were struggling on the floor. The woman’s eyes were on him. She looked more angry than scared.
“Who are you fools?” she cried. “What do you think you’re doing? This is a city building on the historic registrar.”
“Shut the hell up,” Kenny said. “Shoot her, damn it!”
Lee just tapped her with the butt of the rifle, a light tap that connected with her skull. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she quit fighting. “Did I kill her?” he asked, feeling sick and confused. “I didn’t mean to kill her.” He was having trouble remembering what he was doing here.
Kenny snatched the rifle from him. “I told you to shoot her.”
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Lee said.
“Yeah. Sure. You got the cuffs on you?”
Lee frowned, then felt in the pocket of his large jacket, producing one of a half dozen pairs. He remembered Kenny saying there could be cleaning people or repairmen in the building. Better to be prepared than not. Or maybe he’d said that. Not that it mattered. He handed a set of handcuffs to Kenny.
Kenny was looking oddly at Lee’s big police coat. He shook his head and slapped one end of the handcuff on Lorna’s wrist. She was coming around, only dazed, not dead. Lee felt a surge of relief. Francine wouldn’t like it if anyone got hurt.
Yes, he recalled now. The handcuffs had been his idea. “Easy and faster than rope,” he’d told Kenny, who hadn’t been that impressed. Kenny had liked it, though, when Lee had told him about the Internet supply shop he’d found where they could get real police handcuffs. “They even have police uniforms and badges.”
Kenny had gotten excited then. “Lee, you’re a genius. We’ll dress as cops. It will make it that much easier to get the old broad to let us in.”
“The old broad,” as Kenny called her, was wide awake again. Lee could feel her gaze on him as he glanced up. He thought he heard a sound from one of the floors above them. The building should have been empty this time of the morning on a Friday. But he would have sworn he heard a door open upstairs.
7:37 a.m.
LORNA MEMORIZED the men’s faces. If she were called in for a lineup, she wanted to identify these two without the slightest hesitation. The younger of the men grabbed her shoulder and tried to flip her over onto her stomach, no doubt so he could cuff her wrists behind her. He appeared to be in his thirties; his face was thin, hair dishwater-blond, and he looked slovenly even in the police uniform. Especially in the scruffy sneakers. He held some sort of assault rifle in his free hand, his fingernails grimy.
“Help me roll this bitch over,” he ordered the older one, his breath smelling of garlic and alcohol.
With the handcuff dangling from her wrist, Lorna gripped the canvas bag with her purse, lunch and the cookies inside. Her cell phone was palmed in her other hand where he couldn’t see it. She lay perfectly still, hardly breathing as he turned to the other man, the soft-spoken elderly man who’d first approached her.
“Lee? Are you going to help me over here or not?”
Lee was in his late sixties, early seventies, neat as a pin. Even his black lace-up leather dress shoes were shined, creases ironed into his uniform pants. He wore a large, bulky-looking uniform jacket, which, now that she thought about it, was far too heavy for Southern California. He was still kind of slumped over a little, looking uncomfortable, still giving her the impression that he was in pain.
But she thought she remembered where she’d seen him. Wasn’t he the man who had come to the council meeting the last two months? Something about his wife.
“Wait a minute,” the young one said, straightening as he stared back at the man. “Where the hell is your gun, Lee?”
“You said to bring firepower, Kenny.”
“Yeah, so where is your firepower?”
Lee carefully unzipped his coat.
“Holy Mother of—What the hell is that? A bomb, Lee? You got a friggin’ bomb taped to your chest?”
“An explosive device, yes,” Lee said.
“Why the hell did you do that? Jeez. What if it goes off before you want it to?”
“Little chance of that,” the older man said.
“Unless you get shot or fall down?”
“I have to discharge it with this switch,” Lee told him, calmly pointing to a hole in the green-colored plastic explosives.
The hole was just large enough for his finger and a small red toggle switch. Lorna knew the switch was attached to a series of colored wires that ran to a digital watch and a blasting cap. She had recently watched a show on TV about bombs, curious how they worked. But she’d decided bombs were messy and too obvious. She preferred a more subtle approach.
Kenny was shaking his head and running his free hand through his hair. “Oh, man, you’re crazy, you know that? Beyond postal.”
From what Lorna had seen, they both fit in that category.
Kenny was so upset he wasn’t paying any attention to her. His kind took one look at her and saw a forty-something old maid, a woman afraid of her shadow, no threat at all.
His kind deserved everything they got.
“Never mind,” Kenny said. “I can do this by myself. I don’t want you blowing me up because you accidentally flip that damned switch while you’re helping me.” He put down the rifle, though not within her reach, and turned back around to her on the floor.
As he straddled her and started to reach down to try to roll her over again, she kicked him in the groin.
His knees buckled and she had just enough time to pull her legs to her chest and roll away. Scrambling to her feet, with her bag and the cell phone, the handcuffs still dangling from one wrist, she ran toward the front of the building and the staircase.
Kenny let out a howl that echoed through the rotunda. She raced up the wide central staircase, looking down through the railing only once, with satisfaction, to see that her kick still had Kenny on his knees.
“Get her, damn it!” Kenny wheezed. “Don’t just stand there, Lee! Get her!”
Lee was handicapped by the bomb on his chest and his age. Lorna, on the other hand, took all three flights of stairs every day, many times. She hated elevators and closed-in spaces.
She bounded up the stairs. She could hear Lee laboring up the steps behind her. He was breathing heavily and falling behind.
On the second floor she looked up and was shocked to see a group of people coming out of the meeting room, obviously to see what the racket was about. What were they doing here? Lorna thought as she recognized three of the city council members: Gwendolyn Clark, Fred Glazeman and James Baker, along with District Attorney Henry Lalane and City Attorney Rob Dayton. A secret meeting?
They all seemed surprised to see her running up the stairs with a handcuff dangling from one wrist.
“What is going on?” Gwendolyn demanded. She was a frumpy matronly type, with a round face and a large mouth that dominated her face. It didn’t help that her mouth was usually open.
Lorna could have asked her the same thing, but it seemed pretty obvious. The city councillors were having a “secret” meeting, and there was only one topic Lorna could imagine they would be talking about: her.
“Why is that policeman chasing you, Lorna?”
For just an instant Lorna was too stunned to answer. Gwendolyn had called a special “secret” meeting with these council members to try to get her fired? Lorna should have known the woman would pull something like this.
Lee’s labored steps behind her brought her back to the present problem. “That’s not a cop chasing me. He has a bomb taped to his chest. There’s another one down below with an assault rifle. They’re taking city hall hostage. Get back into the meeting room. Now!”
Lorna herded everyone back down the hall to the meeting room, Gwendolyn arguing all the way. Lorna shoved her into the room after the others, closed the door and locked it. Lee had been only a few yards away. She leaned against the door and looked at the others.
She’d worked hard for these councillors, and here they were, meeting in secret to get rid of her. The traitors. She almost wished she’d left them all outside the door for whatever those two men had planned for them.
Except for Fred, she thought, letting her gaze fall on her favorite councilman. He wasn’t like the others. He was kind and intelligent. A nice man. But Lorna knew that Gwendolyn had been trying to turn him against her.
“Barricade the door,” Lorna ordered. She’d have to deal with that problem later. Right now, there was something more pressing to take care of. “Barricade the door!”
For a moment no one moved. They all just stared at her as if she was the crazy one. D.A. Lalane started to call someone on his cell phone. “Don’t touch that cell phone. It might set off the bomb. Barricade the door, then get back from it. The man on the other side of this door has enough explosives taped to him to take out this entire room.”
She could hear Lee outside the door, trying the knob, kicking the door, then turning and retreating back down the hall.
Gwendolyn let out a shriek. “Oh, God, we’re all going to die.” She began to cry loudly. But it got the rest of them moving. D.A. Lalane pocketed his cell phone and ordered the others to help him with the large conference desk. Fred, of course, joined in to help Councilman James Baker and City Attorney Rob Dayton. Gwendolyn stood in the center of the room, wringing her hands and crying.
Lorna’s fingers were trembling, but more out of anger than fear as she carefully turned off her own cell phone. Two crazy men had barged their way into her city hall while upstairs a secret meeting had been in session to get rid of her. She didn’t know which made her angrier.
The law required all city council meetings to be public—unless the meeting was about personnel. If it had been about city personnel, the city manager would have been here. And since Lorna was the council’s only aide and Gwendolyn was dead-set on getting her fired, that definitely narrowed down the agenda of this meeting.
Tossing down her purse and the bag with her lunch and the cookies, Lorna picked up the meeting room phone, hoping the land line wouldn’t set off the bomb as she tapped out 911.
7:48 a.m.
KENNY CURSED THE WOMAN who’d kicked him and mentally listed all the things he was going to do to her when he caught her. And he would catch her. She couldn’t get out of the building and there wasn’t anyone around to help her. All he had to do was trap her on one of the upper floors.
He was so sure they were alone in the building that he was startled by the sound of raised voices overhead. A woman let out a shriek. Not the woman who’d kicked him. Then he thought he heard several men’s voices. What the hell?
He listened to the sound of voices, then footfalls upstairs, a door slamming, locking. He swore under his breath. Where the hell was Lee? Why hadn’t he stopped the woman?
This should have been a piece of cake. They were supposed to overpower the Lorna Sinke woman. Hell, as small and frail-looking as she was, it should have been a cinch.
Once he had a hostage and city hall, Kenny thought he’d be calling the shots. He could hear Lee’s arduous footsteps coming back down the stairs. He’d never expected the damned fool to show up wearing a bomb.
As Kenny got to his feet, he told himself that this wasn’t going as he’d planned, and it was all that damned Sinke woman’s fault. He swore he could hear her upstairs giving orders. The bitch.
He looked up at the sound of Lee’s shuffling feet.
“They all went into a room and locked the door,” Lee said.
“They all?” Kenny demanded.
“I recognized most of them. Three city council members, the district attorney and city attorney.” Lee nodded. “I think that was all. I only got a glimpse of them before they closed the door. Ms. Sinke was with them.”
Ms. Sinke? Lee was calling the bitch Ms. Sinke? Kenny swore. He was going to kill Ms. Sinke. The only good thing was that it sounded like he had some more hostages he could use as leverage. He didn’t need Sinke anymore.
As he turned toward the front of city hall and the wide staircase, he heard a sound that made him freeze and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. It was the click of a door opening.
Spinning around, Kenny brought his rifle up, shocked to see that Lee hadn’t locked and barricaded the door as Kenny had told him to.
A man in his middle forties, dressed like an undertaker in a dark suit, came walking in with an air about him as if he owned the place. Who in the hell was this? He looked vaguely familiar in a way that made Kenny nervous.
What were all these people doing here?
The man was so preoccupied he didn’t see them at first. He stopped when he did, not showing any concern at first to see two policemen in city hall before it opened for the day.
But then his gaze took in the assault rifle in Kenny’s hands. Kenny pointed the barrel at the man’s chest.
“Well, if it isn’t Judge Lawrence Craven,” Kenny said, and laughed, finally recognizing him. He looked different without his robe on and that bench in front of him.
Craven studied him for a moment. “Four years for burglary.”
Kenny smiled. “You remembered. I’m touched. What the hell are you doing here before city hall opens, anyway?”
Craven glanced toward the stairs but didn’t answer.
Obviously he’d come by to see someone, but he didn’t want to say who. Now why was that?
Not that it mattered. This was a stroke of luck. “Lee, we just got a real break. This hostage is better than your Ms. Sinke or all the councilmen and lawyers in the world. Make sure no one else can come through that damned door and let’s go see what other hostages we have.”
7:54 a.m.
AS ANNA WALKED with Flint down the hallway to the briefing room, she couldn’t have been more aware of him. After all these years, they were here together. Only not together. Not even close.
When she thought back to when they’d first met…She shook her head. What happened to those two people who were so head-over-heels in love?
She smiled to herself at the memory of the first time he’d asked her for a date. She could practically smell the salt, hear the Pacific breaking on the sandy beach, feel the sun on her back. She’d been coming out of the water, her surfboard tucked under her arm, happy in her element, when she’d seen someone waiting for her.
She’d squinted into the sun, seeing first the dark silhouette of a man, then the uniform. A cop. Her heart sank. Bad news. Something to do with her family?
“Hi,” he said. “You probably don’t remember me.” He seemed so different in the uniform, sand sticking to his freshly polished black cop shoes, and looked as out of place and uncomfortable as anyone she’d ever seen.
“You’re a cop,” she said, relieved and yet feeling foolish. Of course he was a cop. She knew that. She’d just forgotten that part and hadn’t recognized him in uniform for a moment. He hadn’t been in Southern California long; his skin was not yet tanned. His hair was straight black. One errant lock hung down over one dark eye.
How could she have forgotten that deep, wonderful voice? Or that boyish face? Or that bump on his forehead?
She reached out to gently touch the knot on his head. “I see some of the swelling has gone down.”
He grinned. “You remember me, I guess.”
“How could I forget?” she joked, remembering the huge bump he’d gotten on his head from being hit by a fly ball during a cop tournament baseball game, then the crazy ambulance ride to the hospital, where the doctor had assured them both that it was only a slight concussion. And all the time, the guy’d been trying to get her home phone number.
He’d insisted she not leave his side, even with the entire police department baseball team packed into the hospital emergency room, all laughing as Flint pleaded his case for her phone number, saying it was her fault he got hit by that fly ball. If he hadn’t been admiring her….
She’d finally given him the number. But he’d never called.
Instead he’d shown up at the beach, and he was so shy, so sincere, so nervous he seemed like a different guy.
“You saved my life,” he said.
Right. “It wasn’t quite that dramatic.”
“You’re wrong.” He settled those dark eyes on her. “It was for me. It was the luckiest day of my life.”
That day at the ballpark he’d been wearing the T-shirt she’d carried around with her for the last five years. His lucky shirt, he used to call it. Lucky because he’d been wearing it the day he met her.
She normally didn’t date his type. Jocks. Stars of one sport or another. The kind of guys her sister Emily always dated. And ended up marrying.
Anna had only given him her number that day at the hospital to shut him up. She’d never expected him to call. If he had called, she would have turned him down. And saved them both a lot of grief. Instead he’d shown up at the beach, looking sweet and shy and anxious as he asked her to dinner.
And fool that she’d been, she’d said yes. Look where that had gotten them, she thought now, dragging herself out of the memory as Flint halted at the door to the briefing room.
He opened the door and stood back to let her enter.
“After you,” she said. “Just one of the team.”
He made a face. “Right.” He turned and entered the room ahead of her.
She braced herself. There were always a few men on a SWAT team who had trouble accepting a woman among them. Fortunately most of the men were younger, more in tune with the times. Flint, she hoped, would prove to be the exception rather than the rule, since the Courage Bay SWAT team was all men.
As she stepped into the briefing room, she heard a male voice ask, “You are aware that the last time a paramedic went in with us, she was injured?”
There was some grumbling agreement.
“That’s why I’ve gone with a paramedic with SWAT training and experience,” Max answered. “Anna can handle herself under pressure. She knows the danger. She’s going to surprise you all.”
Anna flushed. “Thank you, Chief Zirinsky,” she said, moving out from behind Flint to meet a lot of very male faces.
To her surprise, Flint stepped to her side. “Gentlemen, this is Anna Carson, our new SWAT team paramedic. Anna, if you will,” he said, giving her the floor.
She looked at the men, then laid it out for them in a flat, no-nonsense account. “I am SWAT trained, second in my class. I spent three years on a Washington, D.C., SWAT team. I received several medals for bravery and dedication to duty. I have been involved in tactical situations from bank robberies and terrorist attacks to domestic disputes and hostage-suicides.” She stopped before adding, “I’m honored to be part of your SWAT team, and I look forward to working with all of you.”
Silence. Then, “This isn’t Washington, D.C. We don’t have the same kind of manpower.” It was one of the older men. His name tag read T.C. Waters. “I, for one, don’t like the idea of a woman on the team. Call me old-fashioned—”
“Old-fashioned and a true chauvinist,” Flint said, and laughed. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, T.C. They’re even letting women vote nowadays.”
“Aw, T.C. even gripes about women reporters on the field during a football game,” a younger SWAT member called from the back.
“Yeah, he says he doesn’t like the sound of their voices,” said another one. More laughter.
“The bottom line here is that Anna’s on the team,” Flint said, looking over at her. “We treat her like we would any other team member. Forget she’s a woman.”
There were some chuckles. “Yeah, right,” one of the guys retorted. “At least you could have hired an ugly one, Chief.”
Even Max laughed this time. The desk sergeant stuck his head in the doorway. “Chief.”
Max went to the door and immediately called Flint over.
Anna didn’t have to hear what they were saying. She saw Flint’s face, saw the color drain from it and the look he gave her.
His gaze met hers, then moved past to his men. “City hall. Possible hostage situation. Suit up.”
CHAPTER FOUR
8:02 a.m.
FLINT KNEW THE DRILL by heart: contain and control. The command center was quickly set up in the briefing room with a view of city hall out the window.
“Lock down that building,” he ordered into the high-tech headset that let him communicate with the tactical force.
Behind him, Max was barking out orders, as well. “Get me blueprints. I need an exact location of the meeting rooms on the second floor, all air-conditioning vents and the phone panel.”
Techies raced into the room with TV monitors, both visual and audio devices and phone systems. Outside, barricades had gone up and the streets were swarming with firefighters and policemen. An ambulance pulled through the barricade. Just a precaution, he told himself. Just like Anna being here.
He couldn’t believe Anna had chosen this day to begin work. All his fears seemed to be coming true. He had to diffuse this situation stat before someone got hurt and Max wanted to send Anna in.
Max pulled him aside, moving the two of them to the northwest corner of the room to look kitty-corner across the street at city hall. Normally they would have set up the command center across the street from the incident. But with the police station so close, it made sense to set it up here.
From the window Flint had a good view of the right wing and part of the back of the building. The large, old, white-stone building, U-shaped and three stories high, glistened in the sun, the windows like mirrors. Even at this angle, the back employee entrance was partially hidden from view by the oleander hedge. Nothing looked amiss. Nothing gave them any indication that a siege was going on inside.
“I’ve ordered an evac of the area and the perimeter cleared for four blocks,” Max said.
Flint looked at the chief in surprise. “Four blocks?”
“We have the aide to the city council, Lorna Sinke, patched through dispatch. She says one of the subjects has an assault rifle.” He met Flint’s gaze. “The other has a homemade bomb duct-taped to his chest. I’ve put the bomb squad on notice. Unknown type.”
Flint felt his heart drop. Oh, yeah, Anna had picked one hell of a day to start her new job. It would be a miracle if he and his team could defuse this crisis without anyone getting hurt and needing a paramedic.
“Do we have any idea who these guys are or what they want?” Flint asked.
“So far all we know is their names. Kenny and Lee. But Sinke says she thinks Lee’s name is Harper. She thinks he’s been at the city council meetings the last couple of months talking about the loss of his wife…blames the city. She said she got the impression he wasn’t well. We’re trying to find out just who all is in the building. Thank God this is happening so early in the morning, but once the media gets wind of it…. I’m going to put Sinke on the speaker phone as soon as the techies get everything hooked up.” They would be able to hear her, but Max would talk to her on a private line. “Bradley is out with the flu, the other negotiators are on vacation, so I’m taking this one myself.”
Flint glanced over at him, but Max gave no indication he was doing it for any other reason. Like the fact that it was Anna’s first day and he wasn’t taking any chances because of it.
Sirens blared outside as police and fire departments responded to the call. Fire Chief Dan Egan reported in that he had the four-block area secured.
Overhead came the whoop-whoop of a helicopter taking off from the pad on the roof.
“Building perimeter secure,” came the report from one of the tactical teams. “Marksmen observers in place. Tactical team in position. Waiting for orders to breach building.”
Flint looked over at Max. Every incident was situational. No one thing was ever the same. That meant each incident was handled differently. Facts were gathered as quickly as possible, then a rational decision was made based on what approach would cost the least number of lives.
There was always a risk. Flint had been in explosive domestic situations that turned violent. He’d confronted armed subjects holed up in alleys, barricaded suicidal subjects and hostage situations involving drunks, crazies, suicidal maniacs with sawed-off shotguns and crying little kids being held by doped-up, drugged-out parents.
Every situation had the potential to blow up in your face at any moment. This one wouldn’t have been any different from all the others—if it hadn’t been for Anna being here.
Flint looked up, as if sensing her presence. Anna entered the room and came toward them. Five years hadn’t dulled his awareness of her any more than it had his feelings.
Their eyes met for a moment, then Anna pulled away. Flint swore under his breath and Max looked up. “Anna, good. I want you in on all of this so we know what we’re up against if you have to go in.”
Unlike the other SWAT team members now securing the perimeter of city hall, she was dressed in fire department paramedic gear except for the Kevlar vest over her short-sleeved shirt. She carried a jump kit with the basic paramedic supplies and stood, waiting for orders. The hostage takers would think she was just another paramedic. Flint swore under his breath as he realized how vulnerable she would be. This was exactly what he’d feared five years ago.
Max listened to dispatch on his headset, nodding. A frown furrowed his brows increasing Flint’s concern.
“Sinke isn’t the only civilian in the building,” Max said when he got off. “The mayor’s out of town, but one of the councilmen home sick with the flu that’s going around said there was an early morning meeting to discuss an employee problem. The district attorney was in attendance, as well as the city attorney and three council persons.”
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B.J. Daniels
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Armed men take over City Hall. A woman is shot–and a hostage will be killed every hour if demands aren′t met. SWAT paramedic Anna Carson is going in…Five years ago Anna Carson left Courage Bay…and SWAT commander Flint Mauro. Now she′s back, and assigned to Flint′s team during a hostage-taking at City Hall. Flint is furious. SWAT is no place for a woman–especially Anna. He couldn′t handle it then. But can he handle it now? All Flint knows is that Anna is determined to go in and save an injured hostage. And Flint won′t be letting her go in alone….