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“I didn’t want to do it,” he said forlornly.
Jessie nodded, seeing an opening to end this peacefully.
“I understand,” she said, no longer shouting. “Maybe a jury will too. But to find out, you have to put down that knife right now.”
Kirby glanced down at the knife as if surprised that it was still in his hand. Then he returned his gaze to Jessie. His expression was impossible to discern, and he still hadn’t let go of the weapon. She couldn’t tell if he intended to surrender or charge at her. She decided to make the choice for him.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Rhett,” she warned, hoping that using his first name might help him snap out of it. “If you come at me, I have to shoot you. There are a dozen LAPD officers who will be busting through that door any minute. If they see you holding that knife, they're not going to have time to ask questions."
She had no idea how many cops were on their way or when they would arrive, but she figured it couldn’t hurt to put the idea in his head. And she was still hoping that at least one cop she knew well would be here soon. Rhett Kirby seemed frozen in place.
“Right now, you've killed one person," she told him. "You might be able to claim that it was a crime of passion, a momentary loss of reason. You were in emotional distress. All you need is one juror to buy it. But if you attack Charlotte or a member of the LAPD with a knife, you lose any benefit of the doubt."
Rhett’s hand was shaking now. She could almost see the gears turning in his head but didn’t know if he was seeing the light or giving in to the dark.
“Rhett,” she pleaded, “I know you love Nina, and she loves you. You still have a chance to see each other. But not if you do this. Do you want to leave her all alone in the world? That’s what happens if you make the wrong decision here.”
Kirby closed his eyes tight. Jessie caressed the trigger of her gun, ready for anything. Then, without a word, Kirby released his grip on the knife. It fell to the floor with a clatter, resting in front of his feet.
“Good,” Jessie said in what she hoped was a soothing voice, “now kick the knife over to me.”
At that moment the door shot open, and Ryan ran in, his gun pointed at Kirby.
“It’s okay,” Jessie said quickly. “Rhett has just surrendered the knife. He’s about to kick it over.”
Ryan didn’t take his eyes off Kirby as he took a step closer to Jessie.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I only just heard your voicemail.”
“I figured,” she said.
“It looks like you’ve got things under control here,” he said.
“Mostly,” she agreed. “How about you take him into custody, and I check on Charlotte Stevenson in that last stall there?”
Ryan nodded.
“You heard her, Kirby,” he ordered. “Kick the knife over here.”
The man did as he was told.
“Now get on your stomach and put your hands behind your back.”
Kirby did that too. Ryan moved over swiftly and cuffed him. Once he was secured, Jessie hurried past him to the stall.
She found Charlotte Stevenson standing next to the toilet, shaking, clutching her purse to her chest like a baby. Mascara tears ran down her cheeks. She looked terrified.
It’s going to be okay,” Jessie assured her. “We’re the police. He’s in custody now. You’re safe, which we should make your husband aware of. I kind of left him hanging earlier.”
Stevenson’s slightly loosened her death hug on the purse.
“I just needed to use the bathroom,” the woman said plaintively, “and all hell breaks loose.”
“I know,” Jessie said, trying to comfort her. “But you’re safe now.”
Stevenson didn’t seem entirely convinced.
“My neighbor just came at me with a knife in the ladies’ room. Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
