"Wait! Wait a minute … Just … !" Nick tossed the phone hard into the seat of the chair before looking up and meeting the eyes of the man in front of him. "He hung up. He's gone."
The Commander nodded thoughtfully. "It's alright," he said as he placed his hand on Nick's shoulder. "You did a nice job. You got him talking. At least we know where his head is. At least we know what he's thinking."
"How is that a good thing?" Nick stammered. "He sounds like he's just waiting for a chance to make me suffer and right now he's got the perfect opportunity. Phyllis is nothing more than a pawn in this game to him and there's no reason for him not to hurt her. What kind of assurance do I have that he won't decide to …" His throat closed up as him mind considered the possibility. He really could lose her tonight.
"Actually I think I can help you with that. It's what you said earlier. You mentioned that Ms. Summers called you and told you that she smelled gasoline when she arrived home. Is that correct?"
Nick turned towards the Sergeant. What did it matter what he had said earlier? What did it matter what anyone said? No one seemed to be interested in doing anything. They were all just standing there, talking about things, considering courses of actions without any action actually taking place. "Yeah," he spat. "Yeah, that's what I said, but I don't understand why any of that matters as much as getting someone in there and trying to get her .."
Sergeant Brunson held up his hand. "Brooks was already in the house. He didn't come here anticipating to have a hostage. He didn't know Phyllis would be back. He specifically entered the house with the knowledge that she wasn't in it because we know he entered through the garage. He would have seen the car was gone and, judging by where his car was parked, it's entirely possible that he's been watching the house." He watched as Nick seemed to calm by just a fraction. "So you see, this isn't what Cameron Brooks had planned either which means he didn't come here with the intention of hurting anyone except possibly himself."
"But what if that just makes it worse?" Nick sat back down in the chair again. For ever potential piece of good news he allowed to enter his brain, he felt immediately beat down with the balanced negative consequence. "What if the fact that she showed up and ruined whatever he had planned just makes him angry? What if he just wants to get rid of her? What if he sees her as an unnecessary complication?"
"That's not what he said though, is it?" It was the Commander that spoke now. "You heard him. He said that Phyllis was his ticket to getting back at you. As long as he feels like she's got a purpose, she's safe."
"She's not safe until she's out of there."
A sudden burst of activity erupted behind them.
"What's going on here?" Sergeant Brunson looked up at the two men fighting past the line of officers. "No one is supposed to be in this area."
"Nick!" Jack's voice bellowed out through the night air. "What the hell is going on here?"
"It's okay," Nick said as he looked back towards the Sergeant. "I know them. It's her ex husband, Jack Abbott and her …" He paused for a moment, not completely sure how to describe who Billy was to her. "Jack's brother, Billy."
The Commander lifted his hand and waved the two men through.
"We saw the news broadcast," Jack said quickly as he stepped towards Nick. "I was hoping there was some kind of mistake and that they'd gotten their details wrong, but …." He hadn't needed any further clarification. It had been the look of complete helplessness on Nick's face that had told him the whole story. It was true. Phyllis was inside that house.
"So, it's true then?" Billy glanced towards the house, his mind filled with questions and regrets and so many other things that he couldn't even fully comprehend. "What are they doing? What's the plan?"
He turned towards Nick, his eyes full of expectation. For the first time, quite possibly in forever, he felt they would be on the same page and, just as he'd expected, he saw a sort of understanding there.
"I don't know," Nick said quickly as he turned back towards the officials. "I was just asking them the same question. You have any answers for us yet?"
"Actually," the Commander nodded, "We do have an idea." He took a deep breath and let his eyes fall seriously on Nick's, "but we're gonna need to buy some time. That's where you come in."
"Here." Cameron held out a glass filled with sparkling water.
The air left her lips in a quick puff. "What are you trying to do? You're treating me like some kind of houseguest now? Offering me a beverage?" The look on his face made her instantly regret her words. It was a special kind of stupid to get an attitude with a man holding a gun. "I didn't mean to …"
He shook his head. "It's alright. You want something stronger instead? The scotch is good … not that I'd expect anything less in a Newman house."
She tried to manage a smile, but the lump inside her throat seemed to grow too large. Each movement of her mouth seemed like a threat to her air supply and she could feel her hands as they fought to keep from trembling. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him as he slowly walked over the sofa and sat down beside her. He turned towards her slowly, his eyes studying her face intently. She waited, silently, for him to speak.
"You know, this isn't the way I wanted to go. It isn't the way I thought it would go. It wasn't always like this. I thought I could have a life like this." He lifted his hands and raised them as he looked around the room. "All of this was mine once. I thought about growing old here with my wife. We'd spend nights by the fire, having top shelf scotch, reading stories to our son, having holiday get togethers and work socials." The memories were still so vivid in his head. He'd constructed this life with so much detail that it still seemed like a reality that was just inches out of his reach.
"Your son?" It was a risk, but if anything could awaken the humanity in a person, it was a child. She knew this from first hand experience. "You have a son?"
Cameron nodded. "Maxton. He's six. My wife …" He stopped. "Well, she's still my wife right now, but she's doing everything she can to change that."
There was pain all over his face as he said the words. Pain could easily morph into rage and rage was dangerous. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know how much it can hurt to lose someone you love."
"What do you know about loss?" People like her might truly experience pain, but their giant bank accounts and luxurious life styles no doubt made the tragedy easier to bear. It was far more pleasant to wallow in 1000 thread count sheets.
"More than you know," she admitted. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life too and people have forgiven me for them. I'm just lucky that I've found people that were willing to give me a second chance. Maybe that's what you need too. Maybe you just need a second chance. I could try and talk to you wife for you if you think that'll …"
He was on his feet before she knew it. "You think that's gonna get you out of here?" His voice was suddenly elevated and she could see the abrupt change in his demeanor. "You think you can just say some nice words and manipulate me like that? You're not gonna get Gwen to change her mind. You're not a magician. You might have money, but you don't have that kind of power. No one does. Nothing will fix this. You hear me? Nothing. Except ending it. Ending it is the only way that the pain stops."