If Delmar was shot or simply released his hand, the bomb would detonate.
Oh, man.
The game had dramatically changed. Not only was Emily—a woman Delmar hated and wanted dead—now his hostage, but he could take out the whole building with the simple release of his fingers.
Archer stood before Delmar Withrow and the hostages. After seeing the bomb, he’d crawled out to notify dispatch that they were now in a hostage situation and to prevent arriving officers from rushing the building and firing on Withrow. Then he’d called the FRS and pocketed his phone to keep his connection with team leader Jake Marsh so he and the team could listen in.
Archer had already gotten introductions out of the way with Withrow when he’d announced his presence over a bullhorn. Withrow demanded Archer leave his gun at the door before stepping inside to talk. Archer had no choice, and he’d complied.
Before he started negotiating, he quickly glanced at Emily to restore their earlier connection. He couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a second, but that was all it took to see her confidence in him.
Good. She was calm enough not to be a danger to herself or others.
He turned his attention to Withrow to start by asking for something in good faith. “I’d like to bring in medics to tend to the wounded.”
The gunman arched a bushy brow. “What’s in it for me?”
Right. He really didn’t care about the hostages. Not surprising. Archer resisted gritting his teeth. “If you don’t take this any further, your prison time will be greatly reduced.”
Withrow held up the trigger. “What makes you think I’m planning on going to prison instead of letting this go?”
“You should consider it as an option.”
“Maybe.” A sick grin slid across his lips. “Once my demands are met.”
Now they were getting somewhere.
Archer kept the hope for a peaceful resolution from his voice and spoke in Withrow’s deadpan tone. “Demands?”
“Quit trying to yank my chain.” Withrow scowled. “I know you’re here to try to talk me out of this, but you won’t. You have to know by my actions that I’m committed to my cause and will stop at nothing for my voice to be heard.”
“This isn’t the way to do it,” Emily said matter-of-factly.
Withrow glared at her. “A real advocate of environmental causes would be here applauding me. Helping me. Not antagonizing me.”
She gaped at him. “Do you really think anyone in Oregon Free would support murdering people?”
“Some would.”
“How do you know that?” she prompted.
“Because we discussed it.”
“So others know about this...your plan to kill people?” she asked.
“Maybe.” He grinned.
So he had people supporting him. One. Two. Possibly more? Could these accomplices have helped him with those other so-called accidents he’d mentioned, too?
Archer hated relinquishing control of the conversation to Emily, but getting the guy on record admitting his crimes would help in keeping him behind bars, so Archer would stand back unless this turned ugly.
“Stan’s working with you, right?” she prodded. “He and Cindy were engaged, and I know he’s mad at me. Did he help you with the arrow and pot rack, too?”
“Really, Emily? You think I’m going to tell you.”
“You felt free to say you’d tried to kill me,” she pointed out. “Why not tell me if you had help?”
“I have nothing to lose.” He held out the trigger, raising Archer’s apprehension. “Not after this. But I won’t implicate those who can carry on my mission.”
Archer could feel the hatred radiating from the creep. Emily was the enemy and he had friends standing behind him. Even if Archer succeeded in resolving this safely and putting Withrow behind bars, would the others continue their attacks on her?
“You mentioned a cause,” Archer said. “Tell me about it.”
Withrow swung his gaze back to Archer. “It’s about time someone asked. Big Oil is trying to transport three hundred and sixty thousand barrels of oil a day through the Columbia River Gorge. Railroad cars loaded with the stuff. I aim to stop it today.”
Archer was familiar with the contentious battle with the corporation that’d built a large oil depot just across the state line and hoped to transport oil in a mobile pipeline.
“I would think you’d go straight to the oil company and place your demands there,” Archer continued in a calm, steady voice. “How can shooting up a mall help?”
“Just like a cop.” Contempt tightened Withrow’s eyes. “Can’t see the obvious. Security at the oil company is like trying to break into Fort Knox, and I’d get nowhere.”
“Still doesn’t explain the mall.”
“Couldn’t resist the chance to pay back my so-called neighbors who are supporting the pipeline. And, of course, this...” he paused and held up the trigger “...wouldn’t have been possible in the city. Cops would be breathing down my neck before I got the vest out of the bag. But out in the country you cops are few and far between.”
He was right. Many Oregon counties had lost funding and had to cut back on law enforcement. This county was no exception.
“Now,” Withrow continued, “you’re going to get a TV reporter on site to film this so people will sit up and take notice and finally stand up to the stinking oil company.”
“So you want to speak to a reporter?” Archer clarified.
“Yeah. Get one out here to do an interview, and I’ll turn over the trigger.”
Archer didn’t trust that Withrow’s motives were as pure as he was making it sound, but Archer could use the demand to negotiate for the evacuation of the wounded. “You allow the medics to tend to the innocents you wounded and transport them to the ER, and I’ll work on arranging your interview.”
Withrow arched an eyebrow. “I only plugged three guys and all of them deserved it.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“You mean that they deserved it? Yeah. They’ve supported Big Oil and it was about time someone made them pay.”
“I meant with all the bullets you fired, that you only hit three people?”
“It’s the truth.” He waved the trigger device at Emily. “This was my end game all along.”
“In that case, you’ll let the medics in,” Archer stated.
“The guys deserved what they got, but...” He shrugged. “If letting the medics haul them out gets me what I want, then so be it. I’ll provide the location of the first two and if the reporter isn’t here by then, number three will have to wait.”
Of course, he would arrange this to meet his needs alone. “I have to get out my phone to call my supervisor.”
“Go ahead.”
Archer dug out his phone. Not that the call mattered at all other than to assuage Withrow, as Jake would never let a reporter come into a standoff.
As Archer talked, Withrow stepped to his backpack and traded his rifle for a handgun. He circled around Emily and jerked her against his chest. He pressed