“All three subjects are in the house. Tell Larry to call off the house-to-house.”
“Rog.”
Jorgenson radioed his call as Talley returned to Rooney. Overhead, a second helicopter joined the first and positioned itself in a hover. Another news crew.
Talley said, “Okay, Dennis, I want to explain your situation.”
Rooney interrupted him.
“You been asking me questions, now I’ve got a question. I didn’t shoot that Chinaman. He pulled a gun and we were wrestling and his own gun went off. That Chinaman shot himself.”
“I understand, Dennis. There’ll probably be a security camera. We’ll be able to see what happened.”
“The gun just went off, is what I’m saying. It went off and we ran and that’s what happened.”
“Okay.”
“So what I want to know is, that Chinaman, is he okay?”
“Mr. Kim didn’t make it, Dennis. He died.”
Rooney didn’t respond, but Talley knew that images of shooting his way out and possibly even of suicide would be kaleidoscoping through his head. Talley had to give him a vent for the pressure.
“I won’t lie to you, Dennis; you guys are in trouble. But if what you said about the struggle is true, that could be a mitigating circumstance. Don’t make things worse than they already are. We can still work our way out of this.”
Kim having pulled a gun would mitigate nothing. Under California law, any death occurring during the commission of a felony was murder, but Talley needed to give Rooney some measure of hope. It did.
Rooney said, “What about the police officer? He went for his gun, too.”
“He’s still alive. You caught a break there, Dennis.”
“Don’t you forget I’ve got these people in here. Don’t you guys try to rush the house.”
Some of the edge had gone from Rooney’s voice.
“Dennis, I’m going to ask you right now to let those people go.”
“No way.”
“You’re ahead of the game as long as they’re not hurt. The police officer is alive. You said Mr. Kim pulled a gun on you. Just let those people walk out.”
“Fuck that. They’re the only thing keeping you from blowing us away. You’ll kill us for shooting that cop.”
“I know you’re feeling that way right now, Dennis, but I’m going to give you my word about something. We’re not going to storm the house. We’re not coming in there by force, okay?”
“You’d better not.”
“We’re not. But I want you to know what you’re facing out here. I’m not telling you to threaten you; I’m telling you to be straight up. We have officers surrounding the house, and this neighborhood is locked down. You can’t escape, Dennis; that just isn’t going to happen. The reason I’m out here talking to you is that I want to get out of this thing without you or the people in that house getting hurt. That’s my goal here. Do you understand that?”
“I understand.”
“The best thing you can do to help yourself is to let those people go, Dennis. Let them go, then surrender, everything nice and peaceful and orderly. If you’re cooperative now, it will look better for the judge later. Do you see that?”
Rooney didn’t respond, which Talley took as a positive sign. Rooney wasn’t arguing. He was thinking. Talley decided to terminate the contact and let Rooney consider his options.
“I don’t know about you, Dennis, but I could use a break. You think about what I said. I’ll call back in twenty minutes. If you want to talk before that, just shout, and I’ll phone you again.”
Talley closed the phone. His hands were shaking so badly that he dropped it. He took another deep breath and then another, but they didn’t help to steady him.
Jorgenson said, “Chief? You okay?”
Talley waved that he was fine.
The helicopters were still up there. They had set up on fixed points in a hover. That meant they were using their cameras.
Talley put the phone in his pocket, told Jorgenson to call if anything changed, then backed his car out of the cul-de-sac. One conversation with a scared twenty-two-year-old kid, and Talley wanted to vomit. Larry Anders was waiting at the intersection along with two more of his officers: Scott Campbell and Leigh Metzger. Campbell was a retired Bakersfield security officer who signed on with Bristo to supplement his pension. Metzger was a single mother who had spent eight years on the San Bernardino Police Department as an instructional officer. She had almost no street time. Seeing them gave Talley no confidence.
“Jesus, Larry, are the goddamned Sheriffs coming here on foot? Where are they?”
“Sarah’s been on the phone with them, Chief. She says you should call.”
Talley felt his stomach clench.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. She also says that the newspeople want to know what’s happening. They’ve got reporters at the minimart, and they’re on their way here.”
Talley rubbed his face, then checked his watch. It had been fifty-three minutes since Junior Kim was shot. Fifty-three minutes, and his world had collapsed to the size of a subdivision.
“When the newspeople get here, let them into the development, but don’t let them come here to the cul-de-sac.”
“Ah, there’s an empty lot by King and Lady, something like that. Can I put them over there?”
“Perfect. And don’t let them wander around. I’ll get over there in a few minutes and make a statement.”
Talley went to his car, telling himself that everything was fine. He had established contact, found out that all three subjects were in the house, and no one was shooting. He opened his car and felt the heat roll out as if from an oven. He was so drained that he didn’t care. He radioed his office.
“Give me some good news, Sarah. I need it.”
“The Highway Patrol is sending six patrol units from Santa Clarita and Palmdale. They should be about ten minutes out, and inbound now.”
Patrol units.
“What about a tactical squad and the negotiation team? We need to get those people deployed.”
Talley sounded strident, but he didn’t care.
“I’m sorry, Chief. Their response team is hung up in Pico Rivera. They said they’ll get here as soon as possible.”
“That’s just fucking great! What are we supposed to do until then?”
“They said you’ll have to handle it yourself.”
Talley held the mike in his lap without the strength to lift it.
“Chief? You still there?”
Talley pulled the door shut, started the engine, and turned on the air conditioner. Anders and Campbell looked over when they heard the engine start, then seemed confused when he didn’t pull away. He turned the vents so they blew the cold air into his face. Talley shook so badly that he pushed his hands under his legs, feeling frightened and ashamed. He dug his fingers into his thighs and told himself that this wasn’t Los Angeles, that he was no longer a negotiator, that the lives of the people in the house did not rest with him. He only had to hang on until the Sheriffs took over, and then he could go back to his orchard and the perfect peace of its stillness. It was only a matter of minutes. Of seconds. He told himself that anyone could hang on for seconds. He told himself that, but he didn’t believe it.
4
Friday, 4:22 P.M.
DENNIS
Dennis slapped down the phone, livid with an anger he could barely contain, shouting, “Fuck you!”
Talley thought he was an idiot, all that shit about wanting a peaceful resolution and promising not to storm the house. Dennis knew the score when it came to cops: A cop was down, so somebody had to pay. The bastards would probably assassinate him the first chance they got without ever giving him a chance to stand trial. That bastard Talley probably wanted to pull the goddamned trigger himself. Dennis was so pissed off that he felt sick to his stomach.
Mars said, “What did they want?”
“What do you think they want, Mars? Jesus, they want us to give up.”
Mars shrugged, his expression simple.