Page 91 of Nowhere to Hide
“Why wouldn’t he be okay? You just said we’re friends.”
His tone was dry and cold, almost robotic. But he’d pushed her words back, which was what she was hoping for. They were something she could use. “That’s right. Friends. And friends are there for each other through good times and bad. They have your back all the time, look out for you.”
“Except that Todd isn’t. He’s ruining everything. He should just forget it and let it be. Leave the past in the past.”
It was tempting to call this for what it was and halt the dance, get out front of it and admit to their knowledge. Except doing so would be risky for first contact. To lay it out might hit as too much all at once. It wasn’t like Finley would be clueless about what brought them to his door. “I hear you. Todd is ruining everything. He’s dredging up things he has no business dredging up.” Sandra ignored the looks from Kreiger and Neal.
“That’s right. Let sleeping dogs lie.”
Her strategy had worked. While the lieutenant might have feared her words would incite Finley to violence, she was connecting with him. “Sleeping dogs lie.” She repeated his words.
“Exactly.”
“There’s no need to dredge up the past.” She stuck to using words he’d spoken, letting him feel heard.
There were a few beats of silence. “Wait a minute. I see what you’re doing.”
“What I’m doing?” She tossed it back with a casual air of confusion.
“You think if you can get me to feel like you’re on my side, I’ll let my guard down. That I’ll let Todd go.”
There was a thumping in the background, wood against wood, and a muffled voice.
Donny wrote on a piece of paper and stuck it under her nose.Is Levine gagged?
“Not at all. I can appreciate where you’re coming from. If everything is good in there, then let me talk to Todd.”
“Not happening!”
The call was cut to an abrupt end.
“Well, that’s first contact down,” Gibson said while getting up and updating the board.
2:15 PM. Contact made with HT, identified as Dean Finley.
One known hostage, Todd Levine.
“This isn’t going to be an easy one, Vos,” Neal began. “You’ve got a retired career cop in there who would be familiar with the negotiation handbook. He’s also got nothing to lose, as we talked about a moment ago.”
Sandra wished Neal had offered something useful other than a sad recap of the situation. If she dwelled on any of what he said, they might as well leave and let things play out on their own. But not her. Not today. Notanyday. She’d put her training and experience to use. Somehow, she would find a way for both men inside that house to walk away from this.
FORTY-EIGHT
2:30 PM
Sometimes in negotiation, silence was advantageous. It could unsettle the hostage taker and make them want to move things forward. This could make them more flexible. But in this situation, Sandra didn’t see silence as the way to go. Fifteen minutes later, she was telling the team she was calling again. She hit the digits.
“Just leave us alone, Vos,” Finley said, answering after the second ring.
“You know I can’t do that. And if you don’t want to talk, let me.” She paused, allowing Finley time to protest. When he didn’t, she continued. “There was a car accident thirty-three years ago in which a woman named Susan Crawford died.” It was time to be straightforward, to start building trust. No lies, no deceit, no pretending to be in the dark on why they were here. An approach any career cop could appreciate.
“What of it? What does that have to do with me?” His voice was heated and raised more with each word.
She countered his hysterics with a calm energy and nonchalance. “Maybe nothing at all. But this woman had her young son in the car. His name was Ryan. He didn’t die in the crash but sustained critical injuries.”
“A sob story.”
His flippant remark suggested there was some underlying remorse. Making light of a tragic situation was a defensive mechanism to block it out. “A sob story, for sure. So you remember it? Todd Levine was the responding officer, and you were his sergeant at the time.”
