Chapter Four: The Dragon Factor
Being invisible sucked. It had sounded so cool when the Chronicler had been telling him about it, sharing tales of how the ancient dragons had been able to walk through cities unnoticed when they were shrouded in their magic. It had sounded like the perfect way to stay with his Dragonlords even when they weren't in the magic world and Spyro had been quite keen on mastering the ability.
But now, as he ran from the screaming, fleeing kitchen workers, dodging pounding feet before cowering under a nearby table… It sucked. He'd never understood before how important it was to be seen. Especially if you were the size of a terrier, with small, fragile wings, and didn't want to get tripped over – or squashed – by stampeding humans.
Sighing to himself, Spyro scooted between tables, working his way through the thinning crowd towards an open white door with smoke drifting out. Sparx buzzed in alarm, but the purple dragon shook his head. 'They're fine, Sparx; it's more smoke than fire.'
The dragonfly dropped lower, inching closer to his master. "What are you going to do?"
Bat-like orange wings stiffened. 'I've come this far, Sparx. I'm not going away now.'
His friend's wings let out another buzz, this one more a sigh of resignation.
Turning towards his small companion, Spyro's eyes narrowed. 'Come on, Sparx. We're going in and we're going in full power!'
With that, the young dragon whipped back around and charged for the smokey room, ignoring Sparx's plaintive, "This isn't Star Wars, Spyro!"
A grim Team One regrouped next to the service elevator, determined to win the day in spite of their setbacks; although Parker's inner gryphon would've liked to take a few chunks out of the boyfriend's hide, his human side knew the man was punishing himself far more than the lieutenant ever could. Accordingly, he set the anger aside and focused on what they needed to do next.
"Unis are taking care of the evac and they're getting the fire under control," Wordy reported as he and Parker joined the rest of the team.
The team's Sergeant nodded, his gaze locked on the two elevator doors. "Spike, the subject and the hostage have taken the service elevator."
"I know and I'm on it," Spike replied. "The elevator they took is the only one with rooftop access."
Lou perked up at his best friend's fierce tone and a fox's grin crossed his face. "You've got control."
"Right you are, buddy," the bomb tech confirmed. "We get him to the roof, it's contained, we keep him away from civilians."
"Okay, good. Nice." Ed nodded as he spoke, though an edge of 'let's-get-moving' rang.
"Is there a security camera in there, too?" May asked.
"That's just where I was going," Spike agreed. "And we also gotta have a phone that we can hear through." Through the comm, Parker heard his tech's computer bleep and knew they had visual – knowing Spike, they'd have audio in short order, too.
"What if he gets out at the lobby and makes a run for it?"
"I've got full override," the bomb tech reassured their witness, "and they go where I say." Shifting his attention to his teammates, he announced, "Guys, I'm gonna send down another elevator. It doesn't go to the roof, but I can get you through a window."
Even as he spoke, Ed's eyes were on the team, assessing and judging on the fly. "Spike, get the uniforms to the stairs with the Remmies for me and Sam."
"Copy that."
Leaning forward, Sam held his phone sideways so his Sergeant could see the screen. Inside the hotel, none of them dared use the holographic blueprints, but that didn't stop the two snipers from plotting their spots out. "Okay, there's vents for cover," Sam informed Ed. "You, take the low one. I'll get a higher vantage from the eighteenth floor."
Lane nodded agreement. "Let's move."
As the snipers departed, Parker pointed out, "Still a chance we can talk him down."
Jules nodded, catching his train of thought, and shifted to include Lou in the briefing. "If he wanted to kill Michelle, he already would've done it," she agreed. "There's something else he wants."
"Like what?" Lou asked.
The two more experienced negotiators shared a glance, neither saying what they were thinking. Before either could speak, the elevator doors opened and the four remaining members of Team One slid inside.
Spyro let out a silent wail as the elevator doors closed before he and Sparx could reach them. The dragon's tail lashed as he stared up at the numbers above the elevator – could he follow his Dragonlords to wherever they were going?
Then the hatchling shivered, his hide still cold from riding on the back bumper of his Dragonlords' truck. Nothing today had worked out the way he'd envisioned it, not even close. If his Dragonlords found out he was here, they'd be so mad at him – he wasn't supposed to come along on hot calls… He'd just wanted to help, but how could he help when he couldn't even keep up?
His wings wilted as the truth dawned. Before, when he'd saved his Dragonlords, it had been because Team Four was helping him. Sure, he'd been an essential part of the rescue, but he hadn't done it all by himself. And Team Four had been there to protect him and keep him from getting in over his head.
Letting his head slump and his tail drag on the ground, Spyro turned away from the elevators and plodded back through the big smokey room. Dragonlord Spike was close – he might get mad and yell, but once Spyro was with him, he wouldn't have to keep chasing his Dragonlords' trucks around.
Talk about a lousy adventure…
Once inside the elevator, the negotiators let Spike handle the controls while they focused on their teammates. Jules took the lead, gazing directly at her student as she spoke. "Okay, let's break it down, Lou. This is a guy who's lost everything. I think what's he's fighting for is a situation where he's back in control again."
"So what, he wants everything to be like it was before his family left?" Wordy asked, puzzled.
"I'm sure he would like that," Parker agreed. "But he knows things have gone too far for that. No, we're reaching the point where he's looking for anything he can control, even if it's the last thing he controls."
"This might not be a dead end," Spike offered. "He's got May."
"It's me he wants," May announced, earning a nod of agreement from both negotiators. "He doesn't believe I don't like him. He wants me, not her."
Almost to himself, Lou murmured, "She's standing between him and giving up."
Parker cast Lou an approving glance. He might've needed help getting there, but they all did sometimes. Out loud, he voiced the ultimate conclusion. "She is the light at the end of his tunnel. The talk's gotta be about her."
May, May, May. Her name was a steady rap against his chest, the one good thing he had from his miserable failed marriage to Michelle. His daughter had his intelligence, his confidence, his will to shape the world around him; she was perfect. As soon as he'd held her in his arms on the day she was born, he'd known there was one perfect, earthbound angel he could call his own. Without May, his world had gone bleak and dark – even above Michelle, she was his.
The elevator's 'L' lit up and James felt a surge of satisfaction. Once he and Michelle were out of the hotel, they'd leave those stupid cops behind and she could take him right to May. Then the 'L' winked out, replaced by a '1'.
"What the heck?" Mitchell hissed. One step forward brought him to the panel and he jabbed the Lobby button. It was already lit up, but the elevator had just…ignored it! "What the heck? Come on. No, no, no."
"Someone must've called the elevator," Michelle offered, her voice thin.
Whipping around, he snapped, "I realize that, bright eyes. It still should've stopped at the lobby on the way up."
As he pounded on the elevator panel and paced on his side of the tiny box, Michelle tried again. "James, just calm down. We're gonna get there one way or another. Be calm, okay?"
For a moment, he leaned his head into the carpeted wall, anguish running through his soul. More familiar anger followed and Mitchell's jaw contorted in a sneer; he turned, bringing his gun up to point at her. She cringed back and after an instant, he lowered the weapon. "The most precious thing in the world to me, and you took her from me. Why would you do that?" After everything he had done for Michelle, why would she take away the only person that mattered?
As the four cops exited the elevator, Wordy pointed out, "He thinks we're messing with him, guys. Yeah, we know it's domestic violence, but I bet he doesn't see it that way."
Jules nodded agreement. "If we want his attention, he's more likely to listen to the daughter."
Over the comm, their Sergeant asked, "Use May as a TPI?"
Lou frowned to himself as he overheard his best friend murmur, "Third party intermediary, a civilian involved in negotiations." Maybe it was just him, but he didn't think it was a good idea to let May anywhere near her father.
"If he sees her, gives him a reason to keep on living," Wordy remarked.
"She's just a teenager," Lou objected.
"Why would you do that to me?" Mitchell demanded, glaring at his ex-wife.
"James," she pleaded, but he was in no mood to humor her.
"Why?!" he roared, seizing the back of her long dark brunette hair and dragging her towards him. She cried out, but he ignored it as he pulled her head to his and raised his gun towards her face. This was all her fault. "You're not getting away with it anymore!"
"James, please!"
The whimper from their teenage charge clinched his decision. Lieutenant Greg Parker keyed his comm and ordered, "Spike, turn the speaker off."
May might've been exerted her own brand of authority over his constables, but he was still their ultimate authority; Parker heard the speaker cut off mid-word and nodded to himself.
"What are you doing?" May demanded, frantic. "Why are you turning it off?"
"I'm sorry," Spike whispered, sounding ashamed; his lieutenant added another note to his mental list of things to discuss with Team One after the call.
Switching attention to the rest of his team and – in particular – his fellow negotiators, Parker observed, "Guys, this could be emotionally traumatic. Do we wanna put her through that?"
Despite not being able to hear the discussion any more, May cried, "I'll do it. He'll listen to me."
In a low tone, Spike explained, "Usually, we try not-"
"I'm eighteen, okay?" May insisted. "I can make this choice. Please, let me help my Mom, or this will never be over."
Lou grimaced, but conceded, "Sarge, she is old enough to know what she's doing."
Spike, of course, fell right into line. "Lou's right, May's not a kid. She's pretty together."
"Let me talk to him," May demanded.
Before Parker could say anything, either to approve or countermand a teenage girl's order, he heard Spike tap his laptop's keyboard and announce, "Go ahead."
There was a rustle as the girl leaned forward, then May pleaded, "Greg, I won't even talk to him if you don't want me to, but if he sees me up there, watching… He cares a lot more about my respect than he does yours."
He didn't like it, didn't like it at all – and Spike was in for one heck of a talking to over letting a teenager dictate to him! – but Parker was starting to get the uneasy feeling that he was outnumbered. Half of Team One was on May's side and his two negotiators were wavering as well. All May needed was Sam and he'd be well and truly on his own – and darn it, they knew better than this! May was too emotionally involved and her father was too focused on her – bringing the teenager into the picture would send the entire call hurtling in directions none of them could predict.
"Subject's on the roof," Spike reported, tone grim.
Calm and not letting a shred of his inner turmoil out, Greg said gently, "May, we can't control what your father might do."
Naturally, Eddie immediately contradicted him. "You got me and Sam on Sierra. There's no way we'll let James harm her."
"It's worth a try," Jules agreed. "He's heading into an endgame. If he feels that he can revive his relationship with his daughter…"
"Even if it's from jail, it's something to hope for," Sam pointed out. "It'll feel more within reach if he can see her."
Hang it all! That was six to one and although Greg knew in his heart that his friends would back him if he refused, they'd all raised good points. Now if only he could convince his instincts that this was the right play… With an inner sigh, Parker gave in. "All right, May." As his teammates pulled back the curtains over the hotel window and opened it, the lieutenant laid out the ground rules. "You have to follow our instructions and stick to the script."
"Promise," she agreed at once.
No turning back now. "Spike, bring her to the roof," the lieutenant ordered.
In the background, he heard Spike standing up. "Copy that. Let's go, bella."
As the night deepened around them, Team One kept moving, though Ed had to pause to screw his sniper scope onto his rifle. Usually, he didn't need it; his hawk-vision made a mockery of every sniper scope he'd ever used in his life; but once the sun went down, he was limited to what human eyes could see, so he always kept his scope nearby, just in case.
Between his delay and Sam's greater pace thanks to the latter's canine speed, the blond sniper reached his perch first, arriving just as Mitchell's yell of frustration echoed from the roof. Over the comm, their lieutenant asked, "Sam, you got eyes?"
"In position," Braddock confirmed, voice level. "I see him."
Inside, the links lit up, the sniper sharing what he could hear with his teammates; the foreign audio overlapped with Ed's own, but the subtle magic behind the 'team sense' enabled the Sergeant to distinguish between the two without missing a beat. As he jogged, Lane quirked a grin to himself, absently wondering how they'd ever gotten along without it.
"You know it's over, right?" their subject hissed at his hostage. "Everything changes today."
The mental map inside Ed's head illuminated, pinpointing four more marks ahead of him as their elevator group climbed through a window from inside the hotel to make it out onto the roof. While not as accurate as their technology-based maps, the sniper knew he could've trusted the 'map' to navigate blindfolded.
"What changes?" Michelle asked, open fear in her voice.
Mitchell's voice dripped pure venom. "This game you play, this power game, where your attorney sucks my account dry, where you sabotage my reputation, where you play hide-and-seek all over the damn city." He paused, then snarled, "And your favorite part, where you write down the rules about when I can see my own daughter."
The bald Sergeant swung through the window his teammates had opened up, jogging past them to the lower set of vents and his position. Once he reached them, he tapped against the 'team sense' and swung his rifle around, focusing on their subject. In position and ready to go on Greg's order.
"I'm not to blame," Michelle insisted, her voice growing stronger.
"Did you say something?" Mitchell demanded, dominating and overbearing to the bitter end.
"We're almost there, guys," Spike reported.
Peripheral vision caught the moment when Jules passed her submachine gun off to their lieutenant; Ed smirked as Parker braced the weapon, wielding it just as expertly as if he'd never been anything but straight tactical. The negotiator with combat skills, back in action and covering their female teammate as she headed for the rooftop elevator.
In front of them, Mitchell's voice turned pained. Anguish rang and for a moment, he sounded like any other worried father. "My little girl is eighteen, for crying out loud. I just wanna hear her voice. I call her, and none of my messages get through. So I'm sorry, but I gotta wonder why."
Their hostage froze. Through numb lips, she asked, "You have her cell phone number?"
"You made me do it," Mitchell accused her. "I had to track you down and ask you, where the hell is May?"
As if on cue, Ed heard the sound of an elevator door dinging, shortly followed by the crunch of gravel underfoot as Spike and May arrived. A subtle glance to his left allowed him to see Jules taking charge of the teenager, grabbing her by her arm and shoulder as the two women moved towards the conflict.
The sniper focused back on his target, nodding to himself as Jules ran through their strategy with the girl. "All right, listen to me. I want you to talk about hope, I want you to talk about the future." A pause, then Jules ordered, "Look at me. I need you to stay positive, all right? That's all you need to do. We're gonna be right there with you, okay?"
"Okay," May whispered, sounding very uncertain.
"Okay," Jules agreed. Then, louder, "Let's do it."
Familiar tension sang under his skin, the thrill of a hot call and the determination to bring as many people home alive as they could. A part of him wished it was Greg doing the negotiating, but his hawk instincts were certain that May could handle it. All she had to do was turn her gift for authority and influence onto her father and they'd have the call wrapped up without any further problems.
Right near the roof's edge, Michelle was explaining, "If she's not returning your calls, she's choosing not to. You have to accept that."
"You're a liar!" Mitchell screamed, lashing out at his ex-wife once more.
"Daddy?" May called, shaky but determined.
Both of her parents turned and Ed saw their subject light up in pure delight. "May," he breathed, sounding as if he'd just beheld his very own personal goddess.
She tried to smile at him. "I'm right here, okay? I'm right here."
Then Mitchell's eyes trailed to her companions and the light faded. Deep inside, Ed froze – if he'd been dealing with a cult member, the last thing he would've wanted that cult member to see was… His 'goddess' in the company of 'infidels'. Horror swamped him, but much, much too late.
Whirling to his ex-wife, the object of all his hate, the demon in his life, Mitchell hissed, "Look what you've done." His voice rose to a shout, fury erupting. "Look what you've done! The cops, again! You & *$?#!"
Jules tried to regain control. Quietly, to May, she whispered, "I need you to get him to focus on the two of you."
May nodded bravely. "All right, okay." Raising her voice, she cried, "Please, Dad, just let her go, okay? It'll be just you and me, and we can talk as much as you want."
Their subject didn't seem to hear as he let loose at his hostage, stalking closer to her as he ranted. "I have survived, I have pulled through, and every time I think I'm close, you do it again!"
"Dad, I wanna hear what you're feeling, okay? Why don't you tell me?"
Without glancing over at his daughter, Mitchell seized his ex-wife by the throat and dragged her towards his face, snarling outrage over her whimpers and pleas. "When will it be enough?"
"Aah!"
"When? Tell me!"
"Ed?" Sam prodded.
The Sergeant never twitched. "Weapon's not in play."
"What, you want me to give up?" Mitchell roared.
"What are you doing?" May cried, dismay echoing around them. "You have to stop it."
Jules remained level, laying out the facts – the rules they had to abide by. "May, when we shoot, we shoot to kill. It's a last resort."
"Can't you just shoot him in the leg or do something?" the teenager demanded.
"Too risky," Wordy put in from his spot on May's right side. "Could fire by reflex."
"Don't give up," Lou coached. "Words make a difference, May."
In front of them, their subject continued to rant at his hostage. "Do you want me to die, Michelle? Would that make you happy? Would that work for you?" His grip on her throat tightened, then he hurled her backwards, the force sending her tumbling to the gravel rooftop.
"Sierra Two, stand by," Lane ordered. "On my go."
"Copy."
But even as Mitchell lifted his gun towards his ex-wife, their teenage witness took matters into her own hands. Reaching into her bag, she yanked out a silver and black handgun and brought it up, screaming, "Don't you dare!"
"May!" Jules yelled, tightening her grip…only for the teenager to slip right through her grasp as she advanced on her father.
"Boss?" Ed demanded, hoping, praying, he was wrong.
"May's got a weapon," Parker called. "She's got a weapon."
Dammit.
If he could've, Greg would've busted himself straight down to rookie constable in that instant. He'd known there was something off and he'd let this emotionally involved girl wrap every member of his team around her fingers until she was so involved in the call, there was no choice but to let her in on the final act. And now…now his Sergeant and his constables faced the dire consequences of his decision – two shooters, one with his weapon down and the other with her weapon up and aimed.
She was advancing, her hair streaming back and shining in the outside lights with her fury. Their only saving grace was the fact that she wasn't using both hands to hold her weapon, just her right. "Don't you dare!" she seethed.
"May, drop your weapon!" Jules yelled.
Without thinking, May whipped back towards Jules, gun still up – threat level red and actively threatening law enforcement. "Hold fire!" Parker ordered.
Satisfied her cop 'allies' were subdued, May turned back to her bewildered father, emphasizing each sentence with a fresh wave of her gun. "Leave her alone! This ends now!"
Heart heavy, the lieutenant spoke the words that would irreversibly change the hot call's trajectory. "Okay, she's crossed the line."
His Sergeant responded immediately. "I've got May," Ed reported, only the slightest of trembles in his voice.
"I have James," Sam reported.
"May, drop your weapon now!" Jules screamed.
On the ground, their hostage joined the effort. "May, baby, no!"
"May, don't do it!" Greg shouted.
But May paid no more attention to the pleas than her father had. "Leave her alone!" the teenager ordered, weapon still raised and ready.
"May, drop your weapon!" Jules screamed, right on the edge of a jaguar's roar. "Drop your weapon now!"
Breaking free from his own horror, Spike yelled, "May, back away! Back away now!"
Drawing on his inner gryphon, Greg pulled in enough air for his voice to carry over the chaos. "May, put that weapon down or we will have to shoot you!"
It didn't matter; she was in the tunnel, so focused on her solution that she was unable to accept any input, heed any warning. May strode towards her father with four constables right behind her, frantically yelling orders as they sought to stop the inevitable. Parker saw the instant May's finger tightened on the trigger, heard the report as the gun went off, the round striking the railing near James Mitchell. The subject himself stared at May, utterly crushed and bewildered, incapable of understanding why she'd turned on him. Like father, like daughter.
"Boss?" Ed demanded.
"Drop it, May!" Jules ordered, though desperation rang.
Still with one hand, the girl fired a second time, missing again.
"Boss, she's active," the Sergeant called.
Parker watched in anguish as May brought her left hand up to brace her weapon. She would not miss again.
"Greg, she's gonna kill him," Ed yelled.
"Drop it!" Jules screeched, her voice breaking as she uttered that one final plea.
He drew breath, the word poison on his tongue – and May fell backwards, a third report echoing in the night. She fell hard, her weapon flying from her hand as she tumbled. Parker shifted his submachine gun, watching grimly as the teenager landed on the gravel, screams of denial already echoing.
"No! No, no, no," Michelle wailed.
Mitchell stumbled forward, collapsing on his knees next to his daughter as Jules, Spike, Lou, and Wordy arrived. Parker followed, weapon still up even as emotions churned within him. Jules knelt by May while her male colleagues split. Wordy moved to Michelle while Spike and Lou descended on their subject, grimly furious.
"Oh, no. No," Michelle whispered.
Nearby, her ex-husband whimpered, "I just wanted to…"
'Greg?'
Parker paused in his advance, shifting to glance towards his Sergeant, one brow arching at the confusion in Ed's mental voice.
'I didn't fire.'
Didn't… Parker whipped back. "Jules!" he roared.
His constable's head turned, caught off guard; in the background, both Michelle and Mitchell fought as Wordy and Spike tried to lift them away from May, screaming their denials to the uncaring night sky.
Only to freeze as their daughter gasped and started to move again. Jules pinned her in place while Lou abandoned their subject to swoop down on May's abandoned gun.
Shocked, Wordy released Michelle, shadowing her as the brunette descended on her daughter, crying in stunned relief. The elder woman seized May in a hug, rocking her back and forth as she stroked her daughter's hair. Though May was confused by the sudden turn of events, she hugged her mother back just as fiercely.
Their subject fought to get loose, reminded of his frantic quest to reclaim his daughter, but between Spike and the newly arrived Ed, he was deprived of his weapon, shoved down on the gravel, and cuffed before he even realized what was happening.
Parker's heart was heavy as he approached May and her mother, accompanied by two uniforms instead of any Team One members. The teenager hovered as the paramedics tended to Michelle's bruises and cuts; the women were holding hands, drawing strength from each other in the face of the day's events. The lieutenant hated himself for what he was about to do, but the facts were clear. The law was clear – May was lucky to still be alive, especially after she'd pulled a gun on seven cops and her father. That would have to be enough. She turned at his footsteps, a smug expression glimmering, only for it to falter at the grimness of his eyes.
Reaching out, he pulled May away from her mother and turned her away from him, expertly maneuvering her wrist down as the first cuff slipped into place. "May Dalton, you are under arrest for assault and attempted murder."
"What are you doing?" she shrieked, outraged. "I'm being arrested? After what he did, for doing what you wouldn't?"
Anger tugged, but his tone remained level. "Yes," he confirmed, slipping the second cuff into place. "You pulled a gun in front of my officers; we nearly had to go lethal on you, Miss Dalton." He paused, then added, "And you're wrong. My sniper was about to open fire when you interfered; as a matter of fact, your father owes his life to your attempt to kill him."
Scorn and denial hammered at him, but he didn't care. The transcript would back him up, one-hundred percent. She hated him now, but far better the cuffs he'd just slapped on her wrists than the bullet Eddie would've fired. Odds were, the jury would side with her and clear her of all charges, but the law was the law and his job was to uphold that law.
Keeping his expression closed, Parker turned the girl to hand her over to the uniforms, then snatched her elbow as May stumbled. One of the constables moved, catching May on her other side. At the lieutenant's signal, the other constable took over for him while Greg knelt, one hand reaching out to check the teenager's legs for injuries. Her pained hiss confirmed it. "I need EMS," the negotiator announced, pulling the nearby paramedic over.
Still cuffed, the teenager was lifted onto the same stretcher her mother was sitting on. Michelle's expression was a mix of horrified and fearful; Parker was careful to keep his eyes averted. The paramedic carefully rolled up May's jeans' leg, revealing purpling bruises that stood out on her calf, as if she'd been hit from behind. The bruise was irregular and angled upwards, but Greg had a sudden flash of the rooftop and knew.
Standing up, he faced their witness turned subject. "May, on the rooftop, what happened when you fell?"
Dark gray eyes spat sparks at him, but when Michelle reached out, stroking her daughter's arm, mute query on her face, May looked down. "Something hit me," she admitted. "Not sure what; I just remember falling and the gun going off again."
The third gunshot – it had been hers, not Eddie's. He'd known it had to be, especially since she wouldn't have survived if Eddie had fired, but he hadn't been sure of the exact sequence. Parker nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Miss Dalton." Shifting to the paramedic, he requested, "Can we get photos of her injuries?"
"Sure thing, ah…um…" Perplexed, the man peered at the bronze maple leaf on the arm closest to him.
"Lieutenant," Parker filled in, tone wry. Hazel flicked to the two uniformed constables. "Stay with her. Once she's been treated, take her downtown and get her booked. Any information they need, have them contact me directly."
"Yes, sir," the more senior constable acknowledged.
"Why?" Bitterness rang in the teenager's voice. "Why are you protecting him?"
The lieutenant met her gaze without flinching. "Your father has already been taken downtown; he won't be getting out for a very long time after today." He stopped, judging her just as much as she'd judged him and his team. "But May, we are not judges, we are officers and we serve the law. We don't get to choose which rules we follow." Slowly, he shook his head. "If we'd followed strict protocol, May, you would've been shot as soon as you turned your gun on my constable. I gave the order to hold fire and I permitted you to fire your weapon twice. I gave you every chance I could to stand down and drop your gun. You refused." He gestured to her bruised legs. "Whatever hit you, it saved your life, May." Hazel narrowed. "But the one thing we could not do, May, is stand by and let you murder your father."
"It would've been over," May insisted.
"Yes," Parker agreed. "It would have. Because you would be dead and beyond his reach; all that hatred he had for your mother would've transferred to my Sergeant." He stepped back, shaking his head. "But you know, we're both wrong. It never would've been over. Your mother would've had to live with what happened today, my Sergeant would've had to live with what happened today, and none of it would've gotten that far if I'd stood my ground and refused to let you on that roof."
With that, Lieutenant Greg Parker nodded to both mother and daughter, then executed a perfect about-face and walked away.
