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Joe hoped like hell this wasn’t going to be another job gone sideways. Over the last few months, he’d had a string of situations where he’d been called in too late to do any good.
He’d never been called to Michigan before and he hoped he could get the situation resolved. He’d been heading to Midnight Lake for a break, but like Atlanta a few months earlier, he’d had his plans changed during a layover in an airport.
An hour ago, he’d been in O’Hare waiting for his connecting flight to Vermont. This time, his boss had arranged for a private plane to fly him to Ann Arbor. It had been his first time in a four-seater plane, and that part of the day had been a blast.
It made him think about his buddy Graham Buchanan and the airstrip he’d added to their Midnight Security business. Of course, Graham used it as a place to teach offensive and defensive driving, but Joe was pretty sure they could get a small plane landing on the strip too.
Maybe he would look into getting his pilot’s license. The guy who’d flown him in had been full of information and ideas for him. It might be a way to have some time to himself. As an FBI agent, he was always on call, but being up in the clouds for a few hours might ease some of the stress.
For now, he thanked his new friend and jumped into the waiting cop car to focus on the situation he was about to face. The cop driving sent him a sad look. “I’m Bob Gillies. Just got word he shot one of the hostages.”
Hell. “Status of the hostage?”
“Unknown.”
“Have they had any more contact with him? Do we know his agenda?”
Gillies nodded. “It all happened in the last five minutes since I left the scene. He used a female hostage’s phone to call 911 and ask to be put through to the—and I quote—fucking asshole cops stopping him from leaving the bank.”
Joe sighed. “Another Einstein.”
Gillies nodded. “He got patched through to our lieutenant, but we don’t get a lot of hostage situations here. It’s a college town and our biggest deal is usually drugs on campus and dumbass pranks pulled off by the engineering students.”
“Which is maybe why Einstein thought he could get away with it.”
It didn’t take long before Joe was outfitted with a tactical vest and talking with the lieutenant. In big cities, he sometimes had to deal with hurt feelings over the FBI moving in, but in smaller centers, the cops were usually glad of the assistance. That was exactly the case today.
He was briefed with the latest intel and then he placed a call to the same cell phone the hostage taker had used. He had to get that injured hostage out of there as soon as possible. The phone was answered on the third ring, but no one said anything.
“Thanks for picking up. My name is Joe and I’m hoping I can help. Can you tell me the status of the injured person?”
There was a hesitation then a shaky male voice answered. “There’s a lot of blood.”
He sounded young. Scared. “We need to get our paramedics in there to help.”
The hesitation told Joe the young man was in way over his head. He’d probably hoped to grab some cash and get the hell out. Now he was holding hostages, had shot a person, and was probably terrified of the future.
“I’m coming in with the paramedics. We’re ready to enter now. No one is armed. No tricks. We need to help that person.”
The quick agreement was good. Joe passed his gun to the lieutenant and waved the paramedics forward. With someone bleeding on the inside and Joe being late to the scene, they weren’t using undercover cops, but actual paramedics. They needed to save the person’s life first. Everything else came second.
Joe opened the door of the bank and held it for the paramedics and their gurney, but motioned them to stay in the glass lobby. He opened the inner door and walked in with his hands up and empty. Once he turned the corner, he saw the small group on the far side of the room.
One look at the amount of blood coming from the woman and Joe’s hopes dimmed. Even with prompt assistance, it didn’t look like she’d survive. Another woman was holding her hands in place over the woman’s stomach, trying to staunch the flowing blood.
The image brought Joe’s mind back to Atlanta a few months ago. With Dr. Lia Moreno working on Gogo’s stomach wound. He hoped this woman would be as lucky as the kid who was now almost completely recovered.
Joe dragged his eyes away from the wounded woman up to the gunman. He wore a balaclava over his face, but it was obvious from his body that this was another kid. Joe nodded at him. “I’m bringing in the paramedics. No tricks.”
Joe waved at the team to come in and they moved steadily toward the woman. Neither of them blanched at the sight of the blood, and in moments, they had the woman on the gurney and outside. The woman who’d been holding her friend together went with them and Joe wasn’t sure the gunman even noticed.
The man’s gaze bounced from the door the paramedics had used to exit to Joe to the hostages. Nerves, or was he high? Drugs made everything less predictable.
Hoping to keep the kid’s gaze and thoughts off the remaining seven hostages, Joe spoke. “Thanks for that. As I said, I’m Joe.”
He waited for the kid to provide a name, but he didn’t bite, but he did talk. “I didn’t mean to shoot her. I was waving it around like you see on TV and it just went off.”
Even worse. The kid was likely going to be charged with homicide if the woman didn’t pull through. Joe kept his voice low and calm. “I hear you. She’s with the doctors now, so that’s good. What do you want to happen next? How can I help you figure out this situation?”
