Andy slowly opened the door, making sure to step inside almost immediately. She didn't want Al to get an itchy trigger finger if no one appeared.
Carl looked just as worried as she felt, his eyes pleading with hers.
To save him? To get the hell out of here?
She didn't know. She didn't have time to figure it out either.
Her eyes flicked towards Al. He was just as Katie described, the 9mm actually a .45. Larger gun. Bigger shot. Better kill ratio. That's why the FBI used it. With the right ammo, it could shoot through walls.
And it was trained at the back of Carl's head.
But, this harried fellow was by no means FBI.
Just as she promised, she slowly removed her cell from her ear, flicking it shut, calmly shutting the door behind her.
She didn't approach him. Might seem too aggressive at this point.
Al stared at her, almost as if he was waiting for her to make some grandiose statement Maybe tell him he could get his children back immediately.
Andy knew it was best not to make empty promises. Backlash could be terrible once he found out it was a lie. But, she had to relate to this guy before he did something rash.
Or something else rash!
He looked so terrified, at least she knew this wasn't a professional hit.
But, then again, it rarely was.
Al motioned with the gun. "Well, whaddaya want?"
Andy swallowed and got to work. But, she had to avoid Carl's intense gaze, or she'd panic.
"That's a very impressive gun, Al. My brother has one just like it. Oils it all the time and takes it everywhere he goes." Her voice was collected as she could manage.
Al blinked. It was not the reaction from her he expected. He even looked at the gun in his hand strangely. "Got this a couple years ago for Christmas. With a rifle."
"So, you hunt?"
"In Boston?"
Andy chuckled. "Sorry. Sometimes, I forgot that around here, you can't just walk outside and shoot wildlife at will."
Al looked a little skeptical. "You're not from around here, then? The liberals stopped that like 100 years ago."
Andy didn't dare touch that one. Politics was not something she wanted to get into at this point. But, it did give her an opening for one of the best conversation starters she had. "I'm from Alaska."
"Really?" He seemed to think about that for a minute. "Snow and polar bears and all that?"
She smiled. "Well, some of the time. I lived far enough south that we actually had a few 80 degree days in the summer."
"No kiddin'?"
"Yeah, my father would take my brothers and me hunting for elk or moose. Hard SOBs to catch, even with a rifle. I have a Winchester myself."
"I've always thought those were neat. All the engravings on them and stuff."
"My father had one he kept with him on his crab boat, but he lost it in a storm one year."
Al was getting into the conversation. "Crab? Seriously? Like on that reality show?"
Andy smiled, remembering to remain friendly and open. It didn't take much to slide right back into the ol' routine. "Just like that show. I even grew up with some of those guys. But, my dad didn't want any cameras on his boat. Said it wasn't Hollywood, it was real life."
The Boston Police Department were fools for letting her go.
Andy chatted with the man for a few moments as she stood just inside the closed doorway. Even Carl found himself relaxing a bit, although he believed he could feel the barrel of that gun burning into the back of his head.
But, he didn't dare move. He just let Andy weave her magic.
Shirley was accustomed to getting her way.
However, returning from a trial, she was surprised to find a squadron of police cars with lights ablazing parked all around her building.
No one would let her in. Said something about a hostage situation.
Great. Just great.
Shirley glanced around at the crowds who had streamed out. She recognized no one.
Was Denny up to no good again? Carl promised to say something to him . . .
Carl. He'd know what was going on.
Shirley balanced her briefcase and coffee in one hand and dug for her phone with the other. Impatiently, she tapped her foot on the sidewalk as she speed-dialed his cell.
By now, the police would be evacuating the building, at least most of the floors surrounding them to avoid unnecessary injuries. And lawsuits. They even probably had cleared their floor.
Andy hoped Alan had given them her message.
She also knew she would have to ease into the subject of children carefully if she were to broach the topic.
Gratefully, she pulled a funny little story about one of her nephews from the depths of her brain, and it actually earned a smile from Al. The gun, which had been trained purposely on Carl, had settled back to Al's side as he smiled at the antics of her two-year old nephew.
"My Gina used to do the same thing."
"They're so fun at that age. But, they can be a handful, too, as I'm sure you know." Andy could see she was getting somewhere with him. This might not be too hard after all.
Until Carl's cell phone rang.
Everyone jumped, including Al, his gun going back to attention.
Automatically, Carl reached towards his coat pocket to answer it, anything to stop that infernal ringing.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Al said, voice shaky, trigger finger itchy.
Carl stopped, his eyes briefly meeting Andy's.
Andy thought fast. This guy was wound up tighter than a drum. "Al, it'll stop ringing in a second. Just put the gun down."
"I'm not putting the gun down!"
Andy put her hands up in a placating manner. "That's fine, that's fine." No, it's not.
They all breathed a collective sigh of relief when it stopped ringing.
However, it immediately started back up again.
Al trained the gun on her for a moment before motioning it back to Carl. "You. Andy. Get it out of his pocket."
Andy found it was best to do as told, especially if it wasn't anything life threatening. She reached across the table and into his inside coat pocket.
"Sorry," she heard him whisper.
But, she didn't have the luxury of answering him.
Or the phone, apparently.
"Don't answer that! Lay it down!"
Andy started to lay it on the table.
"Over there!" He motioned towards the far wall.
Obediently, Andy set it along the wall.
"Now, back up."
Andy complied.
And almost jumped out of her skin when he fired, the phone scattering into a million tiny pieces at the powerful shot, the bullet burying itself deep into the wall.
Andy was too busy staring at the fried cell phone to notice that Al wasn't through shooting just yet. Another shot erupted through the silence, and Andy whirled around.
He shot him. Oh God, he shot him!
And, she had broken one of the cardinal rules. She took her eyes off Al. A big no-no.
But, Carl was still sitting exactly where he was before, white as a sheet, the landline not two feet from him sparking its last electronic breath.
Al looked satisfied with himself. "There. Peace and quiet."
"Shots fired! Two shots fired!" the officer closest to the room cried out into his radio.
They had finally gotten everyone off this floor amongst many protests.
When they found out Andy Sutherland was holed up in there with the crazy idiot with the gun and the lawyer, most of them were relieved.
Especially Calvin. He hated hostage situations. Not his best work. Although he'd never admit it.
But, now she was considered a civilian. Although she knew what she was doing.
Even the ones who were glad she was gone couldn't disagree with that.
After a pow-wow with the captain, they decided to sit tight and wait.
But, those two gunshots changed everything.
Andy knew she had to work fast. Not only did this man have a happy trigger finger, but those shots would get the PD riled up enough to send someone in.
That could get someone killed.
Plus, she didn't know if her heart could take too much more of this. It was already beating so hard and so fast, she just knew Al and Carl could hear it.
Stay calm. Stay cool. Don't let him see you sweat.
"Feel better, Al?" she asked, mentally cursing as her voice cracked slightly.
Carl stared at Andy in disbelief. The idiot with the gun had just deafened him and could have killed him, and she's commenting on his actions as if he tossed a piece of gum on the ground.
He watched her for a moment. Her eyes refused to meet his. But, he could see the pulse racing on her throat.
She was terrified. As terrified as he was, apparently.
That didn't make him feel any better.
She was the expert here, and even she was apparently scared!
Although she's doing a damned good job at hiding it.
Al did look satisfied. "Actually, I do feel better."
Great. He liked firing the gun.
Andy didn't dare move from where she was without permission. She had to get to this guy or else.
She didn't want to think about the last option.
"Al, do you mind if I sit right here. Next to Carl?"
Al blinked, trying to figure out who Carl was. "You mean, the bloodsucking, lying scum of a lawyer?"
Andy sighed. Time to get this show on the road. "Yes. His name is Carl. You didn't know that when you singled him out in the lobby?"
"I . . . I just figured he was a lawyer. He looked like one. You know. All snobby and full of himself." Al looked at the back of Carl's head with distaste.
"I should really work on that," Carl muttered.
Andy gave him a 'shut up or die' look, and he shut up.
He figured the 'or die' part was highly plausible.
Andy moved slowly towards the chair. "He's a good man, Al. Sure, he can be full of himself at times, but can't we all?"
Despite the fact her close proximity was calming, Carl gave her a dirty look that she disregarded as she settled in the chair next to him, turned slightly so Al was in her line of vision.
She wouldn't take her eyes off him again.
"What do you do for a living, Al?" Andy asked, putting out more feelers.
Al seemed startled by the abrupt change of subject. "I'm . . . a contractor."
She figured that. Although young, he had the look of a man that spent a lot of time outside in the elements. "Single family homes or office buildings?"
His arm with the gun wavered once again as he thought. "Uh . . . just whatever needs to be done."
"So, I've guess you've worked for all kinds of folks. Laid-back ones and annoying ones and everyone in between, right?"
Al shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
Andy kept her tone light, but her mind was racing. "I bet you've had this one client who was determined to have something built their way rather it was structurally sound or in their budget or whatever, right?"
Al's gun went back to his side as he thought some more. "Oh yeah. On more than one occasion."
"You disagreed, but you had to do your job."
"That's what they were paying me to do, so I did it."
Andy hoped she was taking the right course. She leaned towards Al. "That's what attorneys do, too, Al."
At the mention of 'attorney,' his gun snapped back up, pointed at Carl. He narrowed his eyes at Andy. "What do you mean?"
Andy had taken this route, now she had to go with it. "An attorney is paid to do a job. They may or may not agree with what their client has done, but they have to do it to the best of their abilities. I guess your wife's attorney-"
"Ex-wife," Al corrected.
"I bet her attorney had a job to do just like you do, and he did what he could do with the money he was given. Your attorney did, as well. It's how law works, Al. And, there're appeals processes you can take, too."
Andy was surprised to see tears in Al's eyes. "Those kids are my life."
"I'm sure they are. Do you have a picture?" Andy was hoping to get him to lay down the gun.
No luck. With his free hand, he rummaged in his back pocket for his wallet, tossing it on the table. "Pictures are in the front."
Carefully, Andy opened the worn wallet. Two toothless children – a boy and a girl – grinned up at her. Andy smiled. "They're beautiful." She set the wallet aside, making sure to leave the photo in his line of vision. A little reminder of what to live for couldn't hurt. Her eyes met his. "I'm sure they'd want to have you around in their lives, too."
"Well, their mother thought otherwise," Al spat in disgust.
Andy didn't really want to go there. A conversation about his ex-wife would only lead to anger. And that could lead to him accidentally pulling the trigger. And killing Carl.
Andy raised her chin in defiance to her thoughts. "Al, look at me."
Al did as he was told, his own eyes still watery.
"Al, this is not the answer."
"Who are you to judge me?" he practically yelled.
"Don't piss him off," Carl hissed through his teeth towards Andy.
"Shut up! Both of you, just shut up!" Al demanded.
Andy didn't have the luxury. She would break down. Later. Much later. It always happened after a case like this, and she preferred to keep it private. Instead, she kept her voice undemanding as she could. "Al, what would your children think if they saw you like this? Wouldn't it scare them?" She put her hand on Carl's arm. "Because you know something? This man has children, too. Grown children, but children nonetheless. What would it be like if the tables were turned and you were the one with the gun to your head?" She paused a moment to let her words sink in.
Carl shut his eyes.
How did she know he had children?
Granted, he only had a cordial relationship with them at best, but Andy was right. They were still his children. His own flesh and blood that he rarely spoke to, let alone spent time with.
Regrets.
More than one flashed before his eyes. Unbidden, tears sprang to his eyes.
And Andy's soft touch on his arm didn't help matters any.
Andy was so zoned in to Al, she didn't notice Carl's own struggles. "Al, I know you don't want to hear it, but this is not the way. Please. End it right here before anyone else gets hurt. Go through the appeals process. Judges rarely take children away from a parent totally unless there was some sort of abuse, and I just don't see you as one to abuse your children."
Tears were flowing freely down Al's rugged face, and he swiped angrily at them. "It was their mother. She lied on the stand."
"Perjury." Andy stood, taking a chance, hoping she was reading the situation correctly. "A good lawyer will rip her to shreds in the appeal. Give it a chance, Al. It's not a perfect system, but it's the only one we have. You want to see your children again, don't you?"
Al hesitated, then nodded, the gun shaking in his hand.
Gratefully, his finger was not on the trigger, or he could accidentally make it go off.
Andy held out her hand. "Then, hand me the gun."
Al used his shoulder to wipe his eyes. "Wh-what'll happen to me? Will I go to jail?"
Andy hated this question. She couldn't lie to him. "You'll be handcuffed and taken to the station for processing. But, it's up to the law firm if they want to prosecute you." Andy didn't dare say it was up to Carl. Then, Al might use the gun to get Carl to agree not to press charges.
Never a good idea.
"But, it's still better than doing what you came in here to do."
"I came in here to get my kids back." His voice was a little stronger.
"You will. The right way. Do you think your wife would give you the kids willingly if you shot this man?"
"That bitch wouldn't give them to me if I gave her the moon," he said vehemently.
"Do the right thing. Be a good example for those babies. Because in the end, the good guy will win." Her hand was still outstretched.
Al looked forlorn, nothing like the strapping contractor he was before life beat him down. "Will you help me?" he blurted out. "With the cops and the lawyers and stuff?"
"I will do everything I can, Al. I promise," Andy's voice was solemn. And she meant every word as she took a step closer, her hand outstretched, hoping like hell she was doing the right thing.
It was an old war she fought with herself every time she was faced with a situation like this. Sometimes she was right. And sometimes, she was not.
Carl didn't dare move or even breathe. His heart was pounding in his head so loud, he couldn't hear what was going on.
But, no one was talking. Silence.
His eyes strayed to the destroyed phone next to him.
If this didn't work, that could be the back of his head.
He thought he was going to be sick.
When the gun, warm and sweaty from Al's palm, was placed in her hand, she felt herself relax for the first time since she'd walked into the room. She glanced at her watch – almost 45 minutes ago.
It didn't seem that long. It always amazed Andy how time got away from her while she was in these situations.
She removed the clip from the gun and put the gun in her skirt behind her back. Out of Al's reach.
Not having a place for the clip, she handed it to Carl. "Put this in your pocket."
Startled, Carl glanced at her hand clip and all, then up to her face and over to Al. Wordlessly, he took it from her and did as he was told, a little embarrassed at his hand shaking like a leaf when Andy looked so collected.
Al looked a little lost, almost as if he were stumbling through a dream. Andy unclipped her cell phone and dialed a number from memory.
When Captain Malone's phone rang, he cursed. Probably his wife wanting to know when he would be home. Or whining about something one of the kids had done. He flung the rain off his phone before he answered it.
But no. It was Sutherland. Good ol' trustworthy Andy Sutherland.
Malone was grinning ear to ear when he answered.
"You talked the bastard down, didn't you?"
Andy couldn't help but smile. "You know I did."
"Hot damn, you're the best! If those idiots calling the shots knew that, they'd have never let you go."
Andy chose not to comment, not with Al hanging on her every word. "I wanted you to know, we're coming out. Al understands he will be taken to the police station and may be booked, depending on what the firm wants to do."
"Some crazy woman named Schmidt keeps bugging the hell out of me. Expect charges to be filed."
Andy risked a glance at Carl. Of course, Shirley would be upset.
Andy turned away. "Tell Rick and the guys to go easy on him, OK? Or I'll sue them for police brutality." She had to hold the phone away from her ear at Malone's howl of laughter.
"Hostage OK?" he asked when he caught his breath.
"Shaken up but fine."
"We heard shots."
"Just a little miscommunication."
Malone snickered again. He always liked her sense of humor. "I'll radio Rick and tell him to call off the dogs. We almost sent in SWAT after you guys."
"You know me better than that, Malone."
"Haven't lost your touch, have you, Sutherland?"
Andy just shut her phone softly in response.
