A.N. So this chapter takes place sort of at the same time as the previous chapter, just from a different point of view so we get more pieces of the puzzle. You'll see some dialogue repeated so you know when things are taking place, but you'll also see new dialogue. Because it's pretty short, and still leaves you at a cliffhanger as to whether Sam's okay, I may try to post another one later today (if I can type fast enough)!

Again, I do not own Flashpoint, I have merely borrowed the characters for entertainment purposes only.

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Minutes earlier…

Ed sounded over the radio, "Boss, we've reached our position. We'll attach the explosives to the very top of the window, out of his sight because I can see that the blinds are down about a foot. Sam and I will then drop down on either side of the window, remove our main lines, and prepare to enter. We'll wait for your signal."

"Copy that, Ed. Spike, get him on the phone again."

"Will do." The tech expert's fingers flew and moments later the phone was ringing.

"Sergeant Parker. I assume you know."

A flag went up in Greg's mind; Izzys was distancing himself by calling him 'Sergeant' instead of 'Greg.' "Yes, Mr. Maclaney, I know about Isabelle."

There was a noise from the other side of the line that almost sounded like a sigh of relief. "Then you know why I'm doing this."

"No, I'm afraid I don't Mr. Maclaney. Can you explain to me why you are holding nine innocent people hostage? Have they done anything to you?"

"No, they have not," came his cool reply, which concerned Greg; he just couldn't get a read on this guy. One moment the subject was calm and collected, the next he was enraged and incoherent, and then there were these moments were he seemed too detached for Greg's liking. He heard Spike furiously typing in the background—as well as verbally sparring with Ed and Sam—and hoped that he could come up with something soon.

"So why are you holding them hostage? What about letting them go and we can talk about this just you and me?"

"No! That's not an option! You have to pay for what you did to Izzy! This has to happen like this! There is no other way!" he shouted frantically.

"I understand that you're feeling lost and confused and angry that Izzy was taken from you, but your anger is being misplaced. Those people in that room with you are not the ones responsible for Izzy's death!" Greg held his breath, hoping he hadn't gone too far, but he needed the man to start seeing the hostages as people. When there was no response, he continued cautiously, "What happened that day was a tragedy, but you need to move on. This? This won't solve anything. All it will do is make your life harder."

"I'm not alone, and I don't think 'solve' is the right word, Sergeant. I'm not looking to 'solve' anything, but personally serving up retribution to the people that deserve it? That's another story," he replied calmly. "I understand that these people are not guilty—they have done nothing to me—but you have."

Greg would have expected him to shout that last part, but instead, he said it as if he was saying "hello" or "how are you." The SRU sergeant covered his microphone again. "Spike, is this guy on medication or something? He's swinging back and forth between rage and calm and it's worrying me."

"Uh…" The tech paused in his work and quickly scanned through the man's files. "That would be a negative."

Even more confused, Greg was about to continue with Mr. Maclaney when Spike added, "his wife, on the other hand, looks like she's been having some issues this past year. She's being treated for severe depression, quit her job… I've tried contacting her and there's been no response from the house phone."

Recalling the subject's earlier words, "a whole year and she still has trouble getting out of bed!" Greg mentally sighed. He felt for this man; in the space of one day he'd lost his daughter and his wife—his whole life had changed—but that didn't excuse what he was doing now. "I get that you're upset, Mr. Maclaney. You lost something that was very precious to you, and I can only imagine how that feels—"

"You can't even imagine how that feels. Try picturing your hand being cut off, and then your heart ripped out. Then picture having to go through every day as if nothing had happened—"

"Boss," Spike called, "I think I've got something…"

Greg nodded for him to continue, keeping one ear listening to Mr. Maclaney and one ear listening to Spike.

"Isabelle Maclaney was the only victim who died on scene right? But I did some digging, trying to get myself more familiar with the case, and it turns out there was a second victim. I didn't find out about it until just now because she didn't die until days later, in the hospital. Her name was Elizabeth Harrison. She was 6 years old and one of Isabelle Maclaney's classmates… Boss, when he started out he called himself Izzys. Plural. We assumed that's just the nickname he used for his daughter, but now he's just saying Izzy when he refers to her, so what if he's talking about both girls? What if he's doing this for both of them? I've started to look into Elizabeth Harrison's family, and it turns out her dad is dead and her mom was in the military. I'm waiting on her file now. I've already tried to reach her but she's not answering her house phone and she didn't show up for work today."

"That's good work, Spike," Greg whispered. "Keep at it. Now Mr. Maclaney," he interrupted the raging man, "I know I don't know what you're going through, or have gone through, and I honestly hope I never have to, but is it really worth all of this? Terrorizing nine innocent people and throwing your life away? Would Izzy want that? You're probably feeling very lonely up there because no one understan—"

"I am not alone! I'll prove it to you!"

The line went dead.

Spike was just clicking to open the file on Mrs. Harrison that had just arrived when Jules broke in frantically, "Boss! He's escalated! He's moving towards the hostages and he's pulling one out of the bunch and pinning her against the wall! I do not have a shot, I repeat, no joy!"

Greg swore. "All right, Ed, Sam it's a go! We've lost contact and he's threatening the hostages! He's escalated to a red and I don't think he's coming back from this!"

"Copy that," Sam replied. "Ed, you ready?"

"Copy, Sam. On my count of three we'll each detonate…"

The file opened before Spike's eyes. Something didn't feel right to him, his gut started churning and the words the subject kept repeating were circling in his head: 'not alone.'

"One."

He scanned furiously, looking for her military occupation.

"Two."

He froze as his eyes rested on two words: expert sniper.

"Three."

"WAIT!" he screamed desperately.