The radio told her the rest.“Be advised, we’ve confirmed a female subject on the roof of the George N.Leighton Courthouse.Subject matches the description of Warren, Emily as per All-Points Bulletin—”
“Shit,” Kate interrupted as the last piece fell into place.“That’s the last event.That’s thepièce de resistance.”
“What?”Marcus asked.
“Judgment,” Kate said.“He who sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.”
“But she’s alone on the roof.Who’s she going to…” His eyes widened as he realized the answer.
“Let’s go,” Kate said.“Make sure paramedics and negotiators are there ASAP.We don’t have long.”
She rushed out of the apartment, Marcus shouting commands over his cell phone, officers listening for instructions on their radios, Cox’s words echoing in Kate’s head.
God asks the greatest sacrifices of His greatest servants.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The courthouse was a zoo when Kate and Marcus arrived.There was a ladder truck, four ambulances, two SWAT vehicles, three news vans, and no fewer than nine patrol cars.A helicopter overhead shone a spotlight down on a single figure standing hear the edge of Chicago’s criminal courthouse.
Kate bummed a pair of binoculars off of a uniform and looked more closely at Emily.She was an average looking woman in her early forties, just over five-foot-two with a rather dumpy build.Her skin was pale and doughy, though that could have been partially because of the spotlight in the dark.Her hands were small, the fingers short, and her shoulders slumped forward in a way that indicated poor posture.She wore thick glasses on her head, behind which brown eyes leaked thick tears.Her hair was shorter and wispy, dyed blonde but not in a while, with a sizable amount of gray at the roots.She wore a pale-yellow blouse with flowers in stripes running down the front.Her pants were baggy and gray, and her shoes were dirty and faded white sneakers.
A thick rope was tied around her neck, the other end tied around the emergency rail of the roof behind her, the balance coiled between.
“I want officers up there yesterday,” Marcus barked, taking charge immediately despite the presence of at least two police lieutenants.“She’s going to jump.”
“Yeah, no shit,” one of the lieutenants said.“She won’t talk to the negotiators.She keeps asking for a megaphone, but she won’t let us bring her one.She wants us to lower one down from a helicopter.”
“Any reason we can’t do that?”
“Because she’ll say what she needs to say and then jump,” Kate said.“I’m going to go talk to her.”
“Not alone you’re not,” Marcus said.“Lieutenant, I want a dozen officers with her.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Special Agent Marcus Reid, FBI.This is our case, and unless you want your name and badge number front and center on the report that tells my boss why shit went sideways, you’ll stop comparing sizes and do as you’re told.”
The lieutenant reddened, then his eyes shifted to the left.Kate could almost see the gears turning.Right now, everything was down to him and his fellow silver bar.Turn it over to the Bureau, and anything that went wrong would be out of his hands.
He picked up his radio and said, “Sergeant Coulter, take a dozen uniforms and follow Special Agent…” He looked at Kate.“What’s your name?”
“Kate Valentine.”
“Special Agent Valentine.She’s the slim redhead with freckles in a blue shirt and black pants.You’ll see her heading toward the building.”
Coulter acknowledged, and the lieutenant said, “Go ahead, Valentine.They’ll meet you there.”
“Give me a megaphone,” Marcus said.
Kate heard him as she ran for the building.He used the same gentle cajoling tone he used with Rosalyn Pierce.She hoped he would be as effective at holding Emily as he was at holding Rosalyn.She hopedshewould be as effective at preventing this suicide as she was at preventing Rosalyn’s.
The officers, as promised, met her in front of the building.Coulter, a heavy-shouldered woman about her age, nodded briefly, then led Kate inside the seven-story concrete edifice.
The interior was much like every courthouse Kate had seen.Marble floors and vaulted ceilings with Latin quotes inscribed into the walls, all to remind people just how incredibly important this place was.She supposed that was true, but the pretense and pompousness sickened her.She’d never been good with courthouses.She was worse with judges, and abysmal with lawyers.Some agents could handle those interactions with aplomb.Winters could have them eating out of her hand within minutes of meeting them.
She wasn’t here to talk to a judge tonight, though.She was here to convince another poor soul warped by Cox that there was another way to atone for her crimes than to forever deny the world a chance to know who was really behind all of this.
“We’ll take the stairs,” she said, heading for the appropriately labeled door.
