They all looked at Molly.
"Ms. Stoddard?" Wagner asked.
Molly exchanged a look with Nick. "Yes."
Wagner said, "Your resolve seems to have slipped a little."
"No." Molly stood. "I'm ready."
2:15 P.M.
Lena washed her hands in the bathroom sink of the Grant Medical Center. Her hands shook slightly, but that was nothing new. Her hands had been shaking off and on for the last two years, ever since she was abducted. Sometimes, Lena thought the shaking was because of the scars in her hands that her attacker had made, but her doctors assured her there was no nerve damage.
"You okay?" Molly Stoddard asked. She was watching Lena's hands like they told a story.
"I'm fine," Lena told her, snatching a paper towel off the roll.
"It's okay to be nervous," Molly said. "As a matter of fact, I'd feel better if you did."
"Right," Lena answered. She took the EMT uniform off the counter and went into a stall to change.
"I'm nervous," Molly said. She was obviously waiting for Lena to speak, but when she did not, Molly drew out an "O-okay."
Lena took off her jacket and hung it on the hook on the back of the stall door. She was unbuttoning her shirt when a knock came at the bathroom door.
Nick Shelton asked, "Y'all decent?"
Molly said yes as Lena said no.
"Sorry," Molly apologized, but Lena could already hear Nick in the room. She sat on the toilet, not wanting to be undressed with him in the room, even though there was a locked stall door between them.
"I wanted to say," Nick began, his voice sounding hesitant. "I just…"
"We'll be fine," Molly said, as if she knew exactly what was bothering him. Lena peered through the crack in the door and she saw that Molly had her hand on Nick's face.
Molly whispered again, "I'll be fine."
"You don't have to do this," Nick said.
"If I was in there and Sara -"
"Sara doesn't have two kids at home, and that's exactly what she'd be telling you now if she was here."
Molly looked Lena's way, and Lena stood to continue changing so they would not think she had been watching. Her pants dropped to the floor and she heard a muffled clank as the knife she always kept in her back pocket hit the tile. Lena looked out the crack to make sure Molly and Nick had not seen. They were still whispering, as if the fact that she was three feet away meant nothing. Nick clearly did not want Molly to go into the station. Lena couldn't blame him. There was no guarantee the shooters weren't looking for more hostages.
Lena opened her pocketknife and ran her finger along the sharp blade. The knife was little more than three inches long, but she could do some damage with it. The only question was where she could hide it in case the shooters frisked her.
Nick raised his voice to include Lena. "They capitulated too easily," he said. "Usually, hostage takers are unstable. They're emotional. You have to deal with them for a while, get their trust, before they make concessions. They're sending Marla out too soon."
Lena slipped on the pants for the paramedic's uniform. They were about one size too big, which was a better fit than she had hoped. She suggested, "Maybe they're hungry."
"There's something not right here," Nick insisted. "They obviously know what we're doing. They wouldn't have blocked the vents just for the hell of it. They knew we would have cameras and that standard operating procedure is to try the vents first. This could be a trap to get more hostages."
Lena slid off her sneaker and dropped in the pocketknife. She stepped back into the shoe, wiggling the knife around until it was snug against the arch of her foot.
"Lena?" Nick prompted.
"I know the dangers, Nick," Lena snapped, thinking he was treating her like a ten-year-old instead of a seasoned cop. She put on the white paramedic's shirt, which was tight across her chest. The badge over the pocket read MARTIN, and she wondered if Martin was a skinny guy or a flat-chested woman.
When she opened the door, Molly moved away from Nick as if they had been caught. Lena checked herself in the mirror, thinking that with the buttons stretched across her chest she looked like some slut out of a porn movie. Considering some of the Grant paramedics she had seen around town, she fit right in.
She told Nick, "I know you don't trust Wagner."
"Do you know why?" Nick asked, but he did not let her answer. "I know the rumor, but let me set it straight. I'm the one who hesitated. She didn't hesitate. She never hesitates. She's ice. And I'll tell you another thing." He gave Molly a meaningful look. "She doesn't like women."
Lena blew air out through her lips.
"It's true," Nick said. "She doesn't mind using them as bait. That's exactly what she's doing here, no matter what you think. That's what happened in Ludowici. She sent in a female cop and the shooters kept the woman. She was dead ten minutes later."
"Because you hesitated?" Lena asked. She could see the guilt flash in his eyes and she regretted her words – not because she didn't mean them, but because the situation was stressful enough without having Molly Stoddard pissed off with her, too.
Nick said, "This won't go down like you think. You've been on the job long enough to know something isn't right here. You feel it in your gut. You know that, Lena."
"I'll be outside," Lena told him, thinking it would be best to leave them alone. She walked out of the bathroom and ran into one of Wagner's men. He was built like a brick wall, and he grabbed her in surprise. His hands stayed on her body a little too long, and she pushed him back, trying not to show her anger. She walked toward Wagner, who was standing at the end of the hallway with a cell phone to her ear. She ended the call as Lena reached her.
Wagner said, "What's in your shoe?"
"It's just tight," Lena said. "Kind of like this shirt."
"Better too tight than too big," Wagner countered. "What happened to your lip?"
Lena put her hand to her mouth, a second later realizing she had given herself away. "Accident," she said, but the lie sounded weak even to her.
Wagner seemed to be taking all of this in, but she did not challenge Lena. "I don't quite trust you, Detective Adams, but I'm letting you go in there because you're familiar with the layout and because they'll see you as less threatening."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"You don't need any more confidence from me, Detective," Wagner shot back. "Listen closely: you're to deliver the food and get Marla Simms out of there as quickly as possible."
"All right."
"I don't need heroics, and I certainly don't need you exchanging yourself for any hostages."
Lena looked down, trying to hide her expression. That had been exactly what she was planning.
"It might seem like a good idea, but you're more useful to me out here than you are in there. You're trained to appraise dangerous situations. I need your expert opinion."
She seemed like a frank person, so Lena decided to say what was on her mind. "That sounds like you're blowing smoke up my ass."
Wagner's lip curled up in a smile, and she got a look in her eyes that Lena had seen several times before in other people; the woman realized she had underestimated Lena. "Maybe a little of it's smoke, but you worked with Brad Stephens. Maybe he can communicate something to you. I know partners pick up on each other's codes."
"He wasn't my partner."
"I don't have time for your ego," Wagner reprimanded. "What I want from you when you come out of that place is a detailed drawing of where everyone is. I need to know how many desks and filing cabinets are against the doors and I need to know exactly how they're armed. What are they using, Sig, S amp;W, Glock? Detective Wallace thinks the shotgun is a Wingmaster. Did they bring extra ammo? What caliber? Are they still wearing Kevlar? How are they getting along? Is one getting a little too big for his britches? Maybe the other one can be turned or distracted. I need to know every weakness in their armor, and I can't get that from you if you stay inside."