Exit Strategy. Jen J. Danna
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most important person in the room. Fear keeping her immobilized, her eyes fixed on the fathomless hole at the end of the gun pointed at them. Her father had taught her respect for firearms and how to handle them safely. But he’d also taught her they were killers in the wrong hands.
Like right now.
“What do you want, Capello?”
“To talk to you.”
Another pause. “That’s all?”
“I think that’s a good place to start. What can I call you?”
His laugh was harsh and derisive. “I’m not telling you my name.”
She echoed his laugh with one of her own, one she hoped sounded brainless and bubbly. At McFarland’s raised eyebrows, she rolled her eyes. “I didn’t ask for your name, I asked what I could call you. ‘Hey, you’ doesn’t seem polite. Surely, there must be something I can call you?”
Rowland stared at her in confusion, but Garcia was nodding because he could see exactly what she was doing. Establish a connection by offering assistance and a friendly ear, get the suspect talking, start to build a bond. Nothing else could proceed without those bedrock steps.
“Henry? James? Bart?” She randomly threw out names. “Darren? Steve? Patrick?”
“That’ll do,” the man interrupted. “Or you’ll be at this for hours.”
“Wonderful.” Gemma let her smile infuse her tone as she wrote the name down on her pad of paper in block letters and underscored it with a single bold line. “Patrick. Now, you know I have to ask after the hostages. We heard a scream when you hung up. I need to speak to Clara, Janina, and Elizabeth.”
“Why would I do that? Garcia asked for that last time and then didn’t follow through.”
“You’re not dealing with Garcia. You’re dealing with me.” She glanced at Garcia and shrugged her apology. “And he might not have been, but I’ll be straight with you. If I say a thing will happen, it will. Talk to me. Tell me what you need. I’m listening.”
“That’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“Of course.”
“Tell me, does your daddy approve of your career?” The man’s tone implied he was talking to a small child.
There it was, the old-school misogyny. She’d nailed his personality. “He does. Look, Patrick, this isn’t about me. It’s about you. You’re holding all the cards. You’re the one who orchestrated this situation perfectly. You’re calling the shots. I can provide what you need up to a certain point. But to do that, I need the hostages in one piece. All of them.” She paused for emphasis, hoping her words would also give Willan some comfort. “If not, there’s nothing I can do to help you. So, again, I need to speak to Clara, Janina, and Elizabeth.”
“And then what?”
“And then we’ll get the mayor back here”—out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rowland jerk in surprise—“and then you can have the conversation you want. That’s what started all of this, isn’t it? Something bad happened? Something that pushed you to take this kind of step so you could have a conversation with the mayor?”
“I want a face-to-face conversation.”
“I promised you honesty, Patrick. I’m not going to hoodwink you. You threatened to kill the first deputy mayor, so there’s no way the NYPD will allow Mayor Rowland to set foot into City Hall. I can’t promise you a face-to-face meet, but I can arrange a phone conversation. And then we’ll go from there. Is that fair? I can tell you right now, you won’t get a better offer.”
Gemma could practically hear the man grinding his teeth in frustration as he weighed his options. “Fine.” The word was clipped.
“Wonderful!” Gemma poured every bit of enthusiasm she had into the single word. “Let me talk to the girls. Then I’ll call back in a few minutes, once we get the mayor back in the room.”
He didn’t say another word, but after a few seconds, she heard the low rumble of the man’s voice and a scuffle of movement, followed by a tremulous female voice. “H-hello?”
“This is Detective Gemma Capello of the NYPD Hostage Negotiation Team.” All traces of lightness were gone. The hostages needed to hear the strength of the team fighting for them, and Gemma was their voice. “Who’s this?”
“Janina Lee.”
“Janina, have you been hurt?” Gemma used the familiarity of the woman’s first name to build a bond of trust in as few words as possible. “Are you all right?”
“That wasn’t me. That was Clara. I’m okay.”
“Thank you. Hold on, Janina, we’re going to get you out of there. Please pass on the phone.”
The next voice was preceded by ragged, watery breaths.
Clara.
“This is Clara. Clara Sutton.” The woman’s voice was only the thread of a whisper, but it was coherent.
“Clara, this is Detective Gemma Capello of the NYPD Hostage Negotiation Team. Are you hurt?”
A whimper was the only response.
“Can you describe your injuries?”
“Hit me. With his gun. Across my cheek.”
Gemma beat back the fury that rose like a wave. Pistol-whipped. But still talking and coherent, so likely not concussed or with a broken jaw or cheekbone, which is probably better than Greenfield. “Clara, we’re going to get you out of there. Stay strong.”
Gemma took the murmured response as an affirmative and then asked that the phone be passed on to Elizabeth.
After assuring herself the last female hostage was okay, Gemma hung up and stared thoughtfully at the phone. That had gone better than she expected.
Suspicion reared its ugly head. Why had it gone better than expected?
What had she missed?
CHAPTER 9
“Why didn’t you let me talk to him?”
The mayor’s question pulled Gemma’s thoughts from her contemplation. “I’m giving him the impression he’s in charge, when, really, we are—we control when the calls go through and who talks. And I wanted to give him a few minutes to think over that call, and to feel confident in how it went. What he perceives as a weakened position might make him desperate. A position of control may make him more likely to deal with us and consider any offers fairly.” She sat back in her chair, pushing her headset down to hang around her neck, and turned to her team. “But there’s something . . .”
Garcia looked at her sharply. “What?”
She shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure. Something about that conversation is bothering me. Something I’m picking up, but can’t put my finger on yet. Did anyone else get anything from it?”
“Besides his slightly placating attitude that they stuck him with a woman?” McFarland asked. “Not that he ‘little lady’d,’ you or anything obvious, but it was in his tone. You told him you were a detective, but he may think you’re freshly minted.”
“In which case, he’s not carefully considering the situation,” Taylor interjected. “This is likely the most important hostage situation in the city all year. He started with a lieutenant, so we aren’t going to follow up with a cadet.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Gemma countered. “He’s old school. Those are the guys who will ‘little lady’ you. And he didn’t. But I feel like something important is just out of reach.” Gemma turned to Rowland. “Which means you’re up, sir.”
“Any new instructions?”