Bobby said something in the background.
“The bullets sound better than trusting you cops, that’s what Bobby thinks.”
“What do you think?”
“Trying to create a difference of opinion over here? It’s not going to work. We’re a team, me and Bobby.”
“Then decide as a team. Under what conditions would you consider letting those people go and turning yourselves in?”
Lucas did not hesitate. “The team answers: None. We are driving away from here under our own power, no matter what. So let’s get back to the central point, because I think we’ve digressed. I want the car outside, keys in, engine running, in ten minutes.”
“Can’t do it. Not like this.”
“The middle of the line this time. I’m thinking Brad. I don’t really like Brad. He looks like the kind of pencil-necked little geek who cashes postdated checks a day early just to watch them bounce.”
“I don’t cash checks!” they heard the young man’s distant protest. “I’m just a tour guide!”
Appropriating Jason’s binoculars, Theresa could see the left half of Brad and his crisp white shirt. He held his hands up to his shoulders, palms out, and even without high resolution she could see the look of horror on his face as the barrel of Lucas’s gun came to rest a few inches from his nose.
Paul sat no more than five feet away. He would not let Lucas shoot another hostage. Theresa knew that. He would die, and they would not be married. This did not surprise her. She could be a good mother, a good daughter, a good employee, and be happy in those roles. But romance would never be hers; like Apollo and Hyacinthus, they had been doomed from the start.
“I think Brad,” Lucas said again. “Or maybe Missy.”
Next to her, Frank whispered, “If they head for the door, Theresa, get away from this window. Immediately.”
“I know.” “Besides, I’ll need room to aim.” Cavanaugh kept talking. “And then what, Lucas? You’re already on the hook for whatever you did to Cherise. You want to make this situation even worse? Or do you want to quit while you’re ahead?”
“Shooting Cherise put me ahead? You must not have liked her any more than I did.”
Theresa opened her mouth to tell Frank about Oliver’s call but broke off with a frown when Cavanaugh said, “You told me she struggled with you. Did she grab the gun, make it go off?”
“He’s giving him an out,” Frank said, “not blaming the victim. He’s trying to guide Lucas into thinking he can weasel out of the murder charge with self-defense. He needs Lucas to think he can get out of jail again someday, which of course he can’t.”
“I understand that. My back aches, that’s all.” “Want to sit down?” “No. I want to curl up in a ball and die.” He put his arm around her, but only for a moment. It was too bloody hot in the sunny window for that. “Your mom won’t see this on TV, will she?” “She’s at the restaurant. What about your mom?” The sisters had perfected the science of instant communication. “She doesn’t watch anything but the Weather Channel.” “You’ve just wasted five minutes, Chris,” Lucas said. “You’re afraid to come out because you’re afraid of the police snipers. But don’t you think they’ll be even more trigger-happy if you shoot that young man?” “Or Missy.”
“Or Missy.”
They could hear the girl wail, “But my baby-”
“That’s good reasoning, Chris. You have four minutes remaining.”
“What’s the hurry, Lucas? You’ve been in there for over four hours now. What’s another twenty minutes or so to work this out?”
“I think we’re done here, Chris. It’s been a pleasure talking with you. Have the car outside in four minutes.”
Click.
“I don’t get this.” Frank lit a cigarette in his agitation. “He said he wanted more money. Now he’s leaving without it. What’s up with that?”
Cavanaugh rubbed his face, an agitated tic Theresa hadn’t seen before. “I don’t know. And don’t smoke in here.”
“Give him the car,” Theresa said.
“We can’t.”
“It will keep him from shooting that kid.”
“He’ll take the kid with him to shoot later. And maybe Mrs. Ludlow and her little boy. They’ll get in that car with him and Bobby and they’ll drive away and we won’t be able to stop them without harming the innocents, so they’ll get away, and then those people’s lives won’t be worth a pack of gum.”
“We’ll follow them. They can’t drive forever. And at least most of the hostages will be safe.”
His chair turned on a swivel, and he spun around to look at her. His face held neither encouragement nor condemnation. “And what if Paul is one of the hostages he wants to take with him, Theresa? How would that affect your decision?”
He was right, and she hated him for it. But her growing desperation made her willing to be inconsistent. “We have to do something.”
“We delay. That’s how this works. We keep him busy with details and small decisions. We send in food, cold cuts, and bread so that the hostages will have to put a sandwich together for them, which creates more bonding than a ready-made sub would. And we keep talking.”
“Until what?”
“Until his sense of self-preservation overrules his ambition.” Cavanaugh’s hand went to the phone.
Lucas picked up on the tenth ring. “I don’t see our car, Chris.”
“It’s on its way. But I can’t turn it over to you until I can be sure no one else is going to get hurt.”
“Oh, someone’s going to get hurt,” Lucas said. “And it’s going to be Brad. Sixty seconds.”
Theresa gave up on the telescope’s narrow view and watched the monitor. Lucas pointed his gun at the young bank employee, who covered his eyes with one trembling hand. His mouth moved, but his voice did not reach the speakerphone.
“We can’t work this way, Lucas.”
“You can’t. I can.”
“Are you on speakerphone, Lucas?”
“Why, yes, Chris. I kind of need my hands free at the moment.”
“Can you pick up? I need to talk to just you.”
Theresa saw Lucas hesitate, glance at the phone, consider his options. Perhaps curiosity won out.
Into the receiver he said, “Trying to cut Bobby out?”
“No, no. I don’t care if Bobby’s in on this conversation, but I don’t want the hostages to be able to hear us.”
Theresa watched as Lucas turned, glanced at Bobby, then picked up the receiver. He stood at the side of the information desk, slightly behind the hostages but not totally exposed to the employee lobby.
“Please just listen to me for a minute, and don’t say anything. There’s a woman there who’s going to be very upset if she hears what we’re going to discuss, and I don’t want anyone in there getting bent out of shape. You with me?”
“I haven’t shut the timer down, Chris, so you may want to get to the point.”
Water trickled down the back of Cavanaugh’s neck.
“He’s sweating,” Theresa whispered to Frank.
“He’s calling an armed killer’s attention to a young woman and a baby. It’s a hell of a risk. I’d be sweating, too.”
“I suppose that’s why he just said ‘a woman,’ no specifics. She’s one of two, if Lucas doesn’t know what she looks like.”
“He hasn’t given any indication of it so far.”
On the phone Cavanaugh spoke quietly but clearly. “Do you want to tell us why you killed Mark Ludlow, Lucas?”
Lucas said nothing. But on the screen Theresa saw him turn away from the reception desk, phone receiver still to his ear, and gaze in the direction of his partner. He said nothing, and the video did not give sufficient clarity to show if they exchanged some sort of signal. Then Lucas said, “Never heard of him.”