"Are you out of your mind?" Hardcastle bellowed. "You cannot be thinking about sending a team in there already."

Marsten didn't back down. "Of course we're thinking about it, Judge; that's what we do. It's been almost five hours already. The clock is working against us."

The judge sighed heavily. "I know that, but you've got to give me a little more time. I told you what I've found in his file; there is no way that kid should've gone to jail, and you need to give me some time to try and make this right."

"Nothing is going to undo what he's doing right now," Marsten pointed out.

"I know that, too, Deputy, but if you go busting in there, people are going to get hurt. McCormick says he's got things under control for right now, so there's no need for you to go rushing into something you can't control."

Marsten tried to be reassuring. "I know McCormick is a friend of yours-"

But Hardcastle didn't intend to listen. "He's not a friend of mine," he contradicted angrily, "he works for me and he's in my custody, so I'm supposed to make sure he's okay. You go blastin' in there, and it's a little harder to protect him." The judge didn't even take time to worry about whether anyone—including himself—believed the explanation. It was nobody's business but his own, anyway. "Besides," he continued gruffly, "I told ya; the D.A. is checking in to some stuff for me; they're on their way here now, and we're going to see what we can do. You just have to be patient long enough for us to make this work."

Marsten nodded reluctantly. "But not much longer, Judge. You heard the Eatmon lady say that kid's stretched pretty tight in there, and McCormick's not trained to handle this. You know as well as I do this whole thing could go bad real quick. We are gonna have to end this soon."

Having decided he was now more bored than scared, McCormick had grabbed a pack of playing cards off one of the impulse displays and resorted to playing poker with Greg while Brandon watched from a safe distance. The hostages were passing the time with quiet chatter when their captor finally spoke again.

"Are you sure this Milt guy can do anything for me?"

"I'm sure," McCormick answered, glancing up from his cards.

"What do you think he meant by 'irregularities in my case'?"

"I dunno. But he's pretty good at finding things that aren't like they should be." He looked at the other man speculatively. "There isn't anything else I should know about your record, is there?"

"Nope; pretty straight-forward." After a moment, Brandon continued thoughtfully, "But you said when I let the girls go that Milt would like that idea. Would it be even better if I let him go, too?" He gestured the gun lazily toward Greg.

McCormick forced himself not to appear too eager, and hoped that Greg would do the same. "I think that would be an excellent idea, Brandon. The more willing you are to cooperate with them, the more they'll cooperate with you." He waited a moment, then asked, "Should I call them?"

Brandon took a breath and nodded, and McCormick grabbed the phone.

"Marsten."

"Deputy, we've got one more guy coming out of here; alert your guys, okay? And, let Milt know this was Brandon's idea."

"So you're not coming out?"

"Nah, not yet; it'll be Greg, the store manager." He paused. "How are things coming out there?"

"Hardcastle's working some angle, but I gotta tell ya, McCormick, we've already got our plans laid out. We can't wait much longer."

McCormick swallowed hard. "Yeah. I got it. Just get ready for Greg. In just a minute, okay?"

He hung up the phone and began gathering the cards. "Too bad," he said with a small grin. "I probably coulda won back my whole tab."

The manager returned the grin. "I think I can cover your tab, Mark. Least I can do for the guy that kept my store off the evening news." They rose from the floor.

"Nah, you'll still make the news," McCormick replied easily, "we're just changing the caption." He turned his attention to Brandon. "Same as before?"

Collier hesitated. It had been simple to release the girls; he had kept the gun pointed at Greg's head while Mark opened the door for the others, instinctively understanding that McCormick wouldn't leave the other man to die. He was just realizing that this time he wouldn't have a hostage within easy reach.

As if reading his mind, McCormick said, "You've still got the gun, Brandon. I'm not gonna try anything."

With a nod, Collier answered, "I'm bettin' I could take you both out before the cops get me. Just something to think about."

McCormick didn't waste time arguing the merits of the unnecessary threat, but simply herded Greg toward the exit. He reached the door, flipped the lock, and pushed it open slowly. Seeing the officers in place, he gestured Greg outside.

"Good luck," the manager whispered on his way past. "And, thank you."

McCormick offered a hopeful grin, then pulled the door closed again, slipping the lock back in place. He turned slowly to cross back to the gunman. "Just you and me now, Brandon," he said affably and dropped back down to his designated spot.