“You don’t want to do this, Delmar,” Archer said in a flat tone. “You heard the medics. The people you shot were still alive. So why not do this the smart way? You don’t need to die today.”
“This’s the only way I get to talk to a reporter.”
“Not so. I can get on the phone right now and arrange for an interview for you once you surrender.”
“Right.” Delmar’s brow creased. “You’d arrest me and then not follow through.”
“Even if I did—” Archer paused and looked him square in the eye “—which I won’t—you don’t have to rely on me. You control the people who visit you in County lockup. Put any or every reporter you can think of on your visitor list and they’ll be glad to come see you. That way your message will be broadcast on more than one station.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I could, couldn’t I?”
“Sure. Plus, if you direct us to the last guy, you won’t go away for murder and can get out so much sooner to continue your quest to protect the environment.”
“Maybe,” he said and his arm slackened from around Emily’s neck.
“Not only that,” Archer added, making sure he sounded enthusiastic, “you can continue fighting for your cause from prison. You can’t do that if you release the trigger.”
Archer could see he was making progress and it was time to end the standoff. “Who’s going to take up the charge if you’re not here? No one’s as passionate about it as you are. Don’t you want to keep fighting?”
“I do.”
Archer slowly lifted his arm and held out his hand. “Then give me the remote, and I’ll make sure the reporter comes to visit you.”
Withrow took a halting step forward.
Yes...
Then another step.
It was all Archer could do not to rush the guy, but he stayed put, his feet planted firmly on the ground.
Withrow took the remaining steps. Held out the trigger. Archer wrapped his hand around it and freed it from Withrow.
The room seemed to sigh in relief.
“Now on the floor, hands behind your back,” Archer said in a nonthreatening tone when every part of him wanted to bark orders at the man.
Withrow’s expression changed, and he looked as if he was going to balk.
“Your cause,” Archer soothed as he might with a small child. “Remember your cause.”
Withrow gave a firm nod, then lay down.
Wearing tactical gear, the First Response Squad flooded the room. Archer held firm on the trigger and looked at Emily. A grateful smile played across her lips, and if he wasn’t already captivated by her incredible bravado under pressure, her smile was enough to suck him in and never let him go.
* * *
The deputy named Archer who saved them all crossed over to Emily. He’d risked his life coming into this building to rescue them. Took a fine man to do that and she wanted to fling her arms round his neck and express her thanks. But she still wore the vest and until she was out of it, this wasn’t over for her.
“The vest. Can I take it off now, please?” she implored, as chaos seemed to reign around her with men in black clothes, helmets and heavy vests hauling Delmar to his feet.
Archer shook his head regretfully. “Our bomb expert will be in soon to take the trigger and help you.”
“How long will that be?”
“He’s suiting up now. I know these guys look kind of intimidating in their tactical attire, but if you haven’t done anything wrong you have nothing to worry about.”
She shot him a look. “Do you think I’m involved in this? Because I assure you I’m not.”
He shrugged as if he dealt with incidents like this every day. Maybe he did, but she sure didn’t. “I know Delmar, yes, but as you heard he hates me and apparently wants to kill me.”
“Yeah, I heard, and it sounds like you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it’s not up to me to figure out your role. Once you’re free of the bomb, we’ll turn this over to detectives to sort out and my team and I will take off.”
“No!” she said before thinking about it. “Please. You saw me through this so far... Can’t you stay? Just for a little while.”
She sounded weak and whiny but she didn’t care. She was still wearing a vest. A bomb vest, for goodness’ sake! And people had been gunned down right in front of her. Unbelievable.
She didn’t think she’d ever forget what she’d seen and heard today. How could life ever go back to normal? Especially if Stan was coming after her to kill her. This handsome deputy standing tall and strong beside her, the man who risked his life for her, gave her hope that she desperately needed right now.
“Please,” she added when he didn’t speak.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Let me go talk to my team leader.” He took powerful strides across the space and stopped by a man who removed his helmet.
The leader clapped Archer on the back. “Great work, Archer.”
Archer.
She liked the name. Kind of regal and formal, which seemed to fit him. At times, there was something in his expression that was warm and welcoming, and yet there was an undercurrent of steel and a warning not to mess with him.
He looked every bit the rescuer, too. He was very tall, six foot four maybe, long and lean, but solidly built. A square jaw, sandy brown hair cut short and a uniform that fit to a T added to her perception. His eyes were icy blue and they seemed to look right through people.
He also seemed like a man who liked to control the action.
Just her type. Which meant if she crossed paths with him ever again, she’d turn and run in the other direction, as she wasn’t getting involved with any man. Ever.
She jerked her focus away and watched as two men snapped cuffs on Delmar and hauled him to his feet before marching him forward.
“Easy now,” he bellowed. “You’ll pay for every bruise I find.”
At his approach, he glared at her, his eyes a mass of anger and resentment. His narrow lips curled up in a wicked smile. His dark, sinister stare remained locked on her.
She cringed and wanted to scoot back from the barely contained rage, but that’s what he wanted, so she stayed strong.
His smile turned into a smirk. “You may have won this round, but our fight is far from over, sweetheart. And if I were you, I’d watch your back.”
Emily sat at a folding table under a canopy in the mall’s parking lot. Birdie rested at a similar table twenty feet away. A vacant, empty expression born from jumbled memories claimed her aunt’s face. Emily had asked to stay with Birdie and offer comfort, but Detective Carothers, who would investigate the case, forbid them to talk to each other until after they’d given their statements.
Poor Birdie. Stuck here. Alone. Lost and confused.
A common problem these days. Hour after hour. Day after day. Confusion. Fear. Living in another world. All courtesy of Alzheimer’s, early stage two. If they could afford a care nurse, Emily would have left her aunt home today. If it hadn’t been absolutely necessary,