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“Captain!” I shouted at Fuller.
The SWAT commander put his radio on his shoulder, peered at me angrily. “Detective Cross, stand down.”
“I won’t stand down, Captain,” I said.
“Nor will I,” Bree said. “One of your men upstairs, Officer Maxwell, just shot an innocent hostage on your orders.”
Fuller lost color. “No.”
“Le’s girlfriend, who is in there, says yes.”
The captain pulled himself together and clicked his radio. “Maxwell?”
“Right here, Cap.”
“How did you identify the shooter?”
“White T-shirt and weapon.”
“No head?”
“Negative.”
“How long did you have the shooter in your scope?”
“From right before he started shooting at O’Donnell,” Maxwell replied. “When he stopped, he ducked out of sight for maybe three seconds and then returned, like he’d reloaded.”
“That was not a reload,” Bree said into her radio. “Officer Maxwell, you shot a hostage.”
There was a long, terrible silence before Maxwell said, “Cap?”
“Maxwell?”
“Permission to stand down, sir.”
Fuller glared at Bree, said, “Permission denied. I need you up there.”
Bree said, “Captain, for the time being, you are going to stand down and let me try to save Officer Parks and avoid more bloodshed. Or do I call Chief Michaels to have you relieved of command?”
Fuller blinked slowly at Bree, said, “I guess it’s your show, Chief.”
“No, it’s Dr. Cross’s show,” she said, looking at me. “I’ve got Le’s phone number. Try to talk to him.”
I took a moment to mentally adjust, to become less a police detective and more a criminal psychologist. Then I entered the phone number and hit Send.
The phone rang three times before Le answered in a jittery, cocaine-fueled voice. “Who the hell’s this?”
“The only chance you have of not dying today, Mr. Le,” I said. “My name is Alex Cross.”
Chapter
43
Le’s breathing was rapid and shallow in my ear.
“Do you understand, Mr. Le?” I asked. “There are SWAT officers preparing to storm in and kill you. I’m offering you a way out.”
After a long, long pause, he said, “How’s that?”
