he has nothing to lose." She averted her eyes. "I do."
I knew Hancock still dreamed of being mayor one day. I figured she was referring to the bad press she would net if I botched things. "If I screw up, call a press conference. Tell the reporters you disagreed with the strategy from the word ‘go.’ They know the State Police are the ones calling the shots. You'll come off looking OK."
Her eyes fastened back on mine. "I don't care how I come off looking," she said. "I care about..." She caught herself. "You know what? I'm not going to waste my breath."
I didn't need more than a fragment of a sentence to hear a whole volume about the distance toward one another Hancock and I had traveled since we'd started working together. "You gambled on me when no one else would," I told her. "I'll never forget that. You sure you can't bet on me one more time?"
She studied me three, four long seconds. "I hope you beat the odds, Frank. You always seem to," she said. "But this time I can't stomach them." She turned and walked away.
* * *
12:28. Rice and I braced against the raw winter air as we watched the entrance to the hospital, the last seconds of my freedom melting away like drops off an icicle, falling to the blood-stained grass at our feet. Winston's blood. "Remember," he said, "if you think things are going wrong, bolt to your right. Dive, if you have to. Patterson has enough fire power trained on this spot to vaporize anyone following you. And we'll do our best for the hostages."
I nodded. Hearing Patterson's name connected with my survival didn't reassure me. Not that anything could have. I knew if I didn't die in the next few minutes, I would face another kind of hell on the locked unit.
"Just over a minute to go. How do you feel?"
I wasn't certain what to answer. I wasn't terrified. Nor was I feeling courageous. I would have said ‘numb,’ but that wasn't quite right, either. I felt as if my whole life, every single action and emotion up to that instant, had led me to stand where I stood, waiting for Lucas. "I'm... all set," I said finally, then shrugged.
Rice pressed his lips together, nodded. "My commanding officer used to ask me how I felt before I dropped into one of those tunnels. I could never come up with the right words, either. ‘All set’ comes as close as anything." He glanced at his watch, then extended his hand. I took it. "Sorry you have to take this trip alone," he said.
Alone . A familiar word in my life. I winked. "Me, too."
We shook hands. I watched him walk away.
"See you on the other side," he called over his shoulder.
Maybe stress had distorted my perspective, but I swear that in that instant, against he backdrop of military vehicles, lofty pines and a crystalline winter sky, Rice looked tall to me. Giant. I had a memory of my father walking out of my bedroom after taking his belt to me, leaving me in tears on the floor. He had towered over me, but I had never thought of him as anything but unsteady — a circus clown on rickety stilts. Shivers spread through me as I smiled at the power of the heart to see the truth. Then, without another thought, I turned back toward the hospital and saw Lucas standing dead center inside the sliding glass doors. The sun's glare made it hard to see his face, but I could tell he was still wearing scrubs. He took a few steps backward into the lobby, then marched through the doors, arm in arm with the same entourage that had accompanied him before — Peter Zweig, Craig Bishop and the two nurses. The Harpy. Zweig and Bishop, in white orderly's outfits, held knives to the women's necks, just like they had before Winston had been killed.
My certainty about the moment fractured. Part of me wanted to run. I wondered whether Hancock had been on the right track; maybe what I was really looking for was
I knew Hancock still dreamed of being mayor one day. I figured she was referring to the bad press she would net if I botched things. "If I screw up, call a press conference. Tell the reporters you disagreed with the strategy from the word ‘go.’ They know the State Police are the ones calling the shots. You'll come off looking OK."
Her eyes fastened back on mine. "I don't care how I come off looking," she said. "I care about..." She caught herself. "You know what? I'm not going to waste my breath."
I didn't need more than a fragment of a sentence to hear a whole volume about the distance toward one another Hancock and I had traveled since we'd started working together. "You gambled on me when no one else would," I told her. "I'll never forget that. You sure you can't bet on me one more time?"
She studied me three, four long seconds. "I hope you beat the odds, Frank. You always seem to," she said. "But this time I can't stomach them." She turned and walked away.
* * *
12:28. Rice and I braced against the raw winter air as we watched the entrance to the hospital, the last seconds of my freedom melting away like drops off an icicle, falling to the blood-stained grass at our feet. Winston's blood. "Remember," he said, "if you think things are going wrong, bolt to your right. Dive, if you have to. Patterson has enough fire power trained on this spot to vaporize anyone following you. And we'll do our best for the hostages."
I nodded. Hearing Patterson's name connected with my survival didn't reassure me. Not that anything could have. I knew if I didn't die in the next few minutes, I would face another kind of hell on the locked unit.
"Just over a minute to go. How do you feel?"
I wasn't certain what to answer. I wasn't terrified. Nor was I feeling courageous. I would have said ‘numb,’ but that wasn't quite right, either. I felt as if my whole life, every single action and emotion up to that instant, had led me to stand where I stood, waiting for Lucas. "I'm... all set," I said finally, then shrugged.
Rice pressed his lips together, nodded. "My commanding officer used to ask me how I felt before I dropped into one of those tunnels. I could never come up with the right words, either. ‘All set’ comes as close as anything." He glanced at his watch, then extended his hand. I took it. "Sorry you have to take this trip alone," he said.
Alone . A familiar word in my life. I winked. "Me, too."
We shook hands. I watched him walk away.
"See you on the other side," he called over his shoulder.
Maybe stress had distorted my perspective, but I swear that in that instant, against he backdrop of military vehicles, lofty pines and a crystalline winter sky, Rice looked tall to me. Giant. I had a memory of my father walking out of my bedroom after taking his belt to me, leaving me in tears on the floor. He had towered over me, but I had never thought of him as anything but unsteady — a circus clown on rickety stilts. Shivers spread through me as I smiled at the power of the heart to see the truth. Then, without another thought, I turned back toward the hospital and saw Lucas standing dead center inside the sliding glass doors. The sun's glare made it hard to see his face, but I could tell he was still wearing scrubs. He took a few steps backward into the lobby, then marched through the doors, arm in arm with the same entourage that had accompanied him before — Peter Zweig, Craig Bishop and the two nurses. The Harpy. Zweig and Bishop, in white orderly's outfits, held knives to the women's necks, just like they had before Winston had been killed.
My certainty about the moment fractured. Part of me wanted to run. I wondered whether Hancock had been on the right track; maybe what I was really looking for was
Similar Books
