by Ben Follows
She leaned back against the wall of her cell. She put her head in her hands and rubbed her eyes.
If Jason had been captured, she had made a terrible mistake. She had played her hand with the assumption that Jason would do a better job. She had no immunity paperwork signed and no agreement that would hold up in court.
"Fuck," she muttered.
She walked to the bars of her cell and leaned her arms through the bars of the cell.
She looked down the hallway, and slowly, a new plan started to come together.
She needed to get out of here if she was going to keep the promise she had made to Jason when his daughter, Gillian, had been born.
It was a promise that had been made when she had agreed to be Gillian's Godmother.
Chapter 28
Jason pushed the peddle to the floor. Sweat was rolling down his forehead, and his knuckles were turning a pale white from clutching the steering wheel. He was staring down the highway, which seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance.
The only thing he had to mark the distance he was driving was the occasional pothole. When he hit the pothole, he would hear the telltale thump from the back of the car and a new string of curses from Lauren.
Finally, a rest stop appeared on the right side of the road. He looked in his rearview mirror and couldn't see any police officers. He had put some distance between them.
He pulled off the road and drove around the back of the rest stop, hoping that he might be able to hide there and wait out the search.
He took a deep breath and reached into his pocket as he pulled off the highway. He pulled out a picture of his daughter. Gillian was small, although she was above average among ten-year-old girls, and she looked just like her mother, who Jason would never see again.
Looking at the picture renewed his dedication to his cause.
They had his daughter.
He would do anything to save her.
Chapter 29
"Roadblocks are set up," said Frankie, relaying information to Curtis as they sped down the highway.
"There's nowhere for him to go," said Curtis.
Frankie nodded. "We should be able to corner him, but you know as well as I do that it never quite works like that."
"Especially not when there's a hostage."
"And we need Lauren Mavis."
"If we can get both, that would be ideal."
"What are the odds of that?" said Frankie.
"We need to try," said Curtis. "There must be something more. If I'm given the chance, I want to talk to Jason. I want to hear why he's doing this. There has to be something more than just Jason losing it randomly and going after his former colleagues."
Frankie looked at him and nodded.
Curtis looked at the falling sun in front of them to mark the passage of time.
He leaned his head against the window and breathed a few times to slow his heart rate. Then he closed his eyes, trying to get a few minutes of sleep.
As soon as he closed his eyes, memories took over his mind.
The memory was foggy, as though it was someone else's.
He was sitting beside a hospital bed, holding onto Amber's hand.
She screamed in pain as the doctor told her to push.
She screamed again, her voice piercing, but Curtis refused to react or recoil.
Amber was the woman he loved, and they were going to have a child together. He was going to be a father. He had given up his dream of becoming an FBI agent to be with her, and at that moment, all his doubts had been pushed aside. His heart was pounding in his chest.
She looked at him, and there was fear in her eyes, absolute horror.
He smiled back at her, telling her everything was going to be okay.
"Push!"
Amber screamed.
"There's the head! Push!"
Amber screamed again.
"Here he comes!" shouted the doctor.
"Here he is!" said the doctor, pulling back and standing.
At the moment Amber stopped screaming, it was replaced by the high-pitched wail of a newborn baby. The doctor lifted the baby high enough for them to see him as the nurse stepped in and dealt with the umbilical cord.
Curtis saw his son above Amber's legs. He frowned.
The baby seemed like a stranger. He didn't recognize himself in the baby's face.
The nurse took the baby and walked around the bed, holding the screaming baby and cradling him. She held him out, and Amber gently took her son.
Amber looked up at Curtis, and there was a strange look of relief in her expression.
"He's beautiful, isn't he?" she said.
"Yeah," said Curtis, although he felt something was wrong. Something about the child was wrong. He couldn't place it.
He forced himself to smile and hug Amber.
He wouldn't figure out what was wrong for almost four months when Amber finally came clean and told him he wasn't the baby's father.
It was only then Curtis understood his anxiety and fear when he had seen the baby.
He had seen nothing of his family in that baby's face. He hadn't seen the distinct black hair and rounded chin that everyone in the Mackley family had.
Years later, when Sophie had been born, he had been so relieved when he had seen that tell-tale rounded chin and the black hair. Sophie even had Curtis's slightly too thick eyebrows. The relief had been overwhelming.
"Curtis."
Curtis looked over at Frankie. They had been driving for hours, and the scenery had become repetitive.
"Curtis, you awake?" said Frankie.
"Yeah," said Curtis, rubbing his eyes.
"We're here," said Frankie. She pointed forward.
Curtis raised his head and looked over the dashboard. A few hundred meters ahead of them was a rest stop with a Burger King and a Starbucks. Surrounding it were dozens of police cars, all with their sirens on.
"Jason didn't get far," said Curtis, sitting up straight. "What happened?"
"We got a call from the local chief. Jason tried to hide and trick the police. One of the Burger King workers snuck out the back door to take a smoke break and recognized him from the television broadcast. Police surrounded the rest stop, and he panicked. He has six hostages inside."
"Is Lauren Mavis still there?"
"As far as we can tell."
"Alright," said Curtis, stretching and making sure his gun was loaded. "Let's do this."
Chapter 30
The rest stop was surrounded by police cars. The flashing sirens lit up the night sky. Curtis and Frankie walked up to the nearest officer.
"What's going on?" said Curtis to the officer.
"Jason Wilson's inside," said the officer. "He has six hostages."
"What about Lauren Mavis?"
"As far as we can tell, she's one of the hostages."
"Has he made any requests?"
"Yeah," said the officer. He reached into his pocket and passed back a written memo. "He wants to speak with the FBI agents in charge of the case."
Curtis took the note and read it. "Tell him I’m coming in."
"Curtis?" said Frankie. "Are you serious?"
"We need to know what's going on. Unless you have a better way?" He raised an eyebrow.
Frankie sighed. "Don't do anything stupid. I'll manage things out here."
Curtis nodded and turned to the officer with the megaphone, standing a few feet away. "Tell him I'm coming in."
The officer relayed the message over the intercom. Curtis took a deep breath and looked at the rest stop. The lights had been turned off, and he couldn't see anything inside.
"Want a bulletproof vest?" said the officer. "We have some extras if you need it."
"No," said Curtis. "I need him to trust me completely."
Curtis walked through the police line and walked up to the door.
As he approached, the from door opened just a bit. He raised his hands, walked up to the door and stepped inside, then turned to the figur
e beside him.
It was a young woman, who gestured to him to walk with her.
The entire rest stop was dark. The only light came from the sirens and the flashlights of the cops.
"You can run," said Curtis to the girl. "You can get there in time."
"No, she can't," said a voice in the darkness.
Curtis looked up. In the darkness, sitting at the table, was the silhouette of a man. It was Jason.
"Slide your gun and your phone along the ground, Agent Mackley," said Jason. "Stop talking to Emily."
"How do you know who I am?" said Curtis, lowering his hands and unlatching his gun from its holster. He glanced at the woman behind him, whose name was Emily apparently.
"I'm a former black ops agent," said Jason. "I can figure out the names of an agent working on the most high-profile case in the country. And before you ask, I can see you just fine."
"Look," said Curtis, "Jason, I believe?"
"You know who I am," said Jason. "You know what I've done. You try anything, and everyone in the back room dies.
Curtis took his gun out of its holster, holding it up into the air. He reached into his pocket and took out his pocket.
"There are explosives in the back room," said Jason. "The other hostages are tied to the stoves back there. I have the remote for the explosives with me. You try anything, they all die."
Slowly, Curtis bent over and slid his gun and phone across the ground. It came to a stop at Jason's feet. Jason leaned over and picked them up.
"Come with me," he said. He stood and walked toward the back of the rest stop. He led them through a door marked employees only, then gestured toward a storage room with Curtis's gun. The lights were on back here, giving Curtis his first good look at Jason.
"Get in the room," said Jason.
Emily walked up to the door and tried to open it, but it didn't budge.
"You locked it," she said back to Jason.
Jason reached into his pocket and tossed a set of keys. They landed on the ground a few feet away from Curtis.
"Pick those up," said Jason. "Unlock the door."
Curtis bent over and grabbed the ring of keys. It was a janitor’s keyring with at least twenty keys.
Curtis looked back at Jason. "There's no way I could figure out which key works on this ring."
"Too bad," said Jason, keeping his distance.
Curtis turned to the door. Emily stood a few feet back. She seemed strangely calm.
"Do you know what key it is?" said Curtis to Emily.
"It's one of the smaller ones," she said. "Maybe gold? I remember it being gold as Jason locked the door."
"Okay," said Curtis. He began leafing through the seemingly endless keys on the keyring, trying each gold key. A few fit the lock, but the lock didn't turn.
"So," he said as he kept trying keys, "What's your story? How'd you get into this situation?"
Emily twirled a lock of blond hair between her fingers. "You know, the usual," she said with a laugh, "So you're really an FBI agent, huh?"
Curtis looked as she bit her lip. Please, he thought, please don't be one of those.
"You know," said Emily, "I've seen every episode of Criminal Minds and NCIS. I bet I could get away with murder." She giggled to herself and bit her lip, never breaking eye contact with Curtis.
Oh God, thought Curtis, she was one of those.
She had watched too many crime shows and thought it made her an expert. That explained why Emily was so calm and cavalier. She was excited. She was getting to live out her dream of being a hostage.
Curtis knew that people like that, without exception, were liabilities. They overestimated their knowledge and skill, tried to interject themselves into the case, and often tried to be a hero. In the best-case scenario, they were annoying. In the worst case scenario they could get someone killed.
"Yeah," said Curtis, trying more keys and taking his attention off her. "I work for the FBI."
"So," said Emily, leaning against the wall like an infatuated schoolgirl, "have you killed someone?"
Curtis looked up at her. "Never ask someone that question."
"Geez," said Emily, pouting., "it was just a question. No need to get all testy about it. Guess that means the answer is yes."
Curtis breathed through his nose and glanced over his shoulder at Jason. He was standing completely still, watching them.
Finally, one of the keys worked, and the door opened. Light poured out of the room, and Curtis heard people whispering inside. He looked back over his shoulder at Jason, who gestured for them to enter the room.
Curtis stepped into the room with the rest of the hostages. The captives were sitting around the room. They weren't tied or restrained in any way. There were six of them, all of whom looked fine except for one man with a black eye and a split lip. Also, there were no explosives of any kind. Jason had bluffed. Emily stepped in after him.
"Throw back the keys and close the door," said Jason, taking a few steps closer to them.
"Come on," said Curtis, "do you really think this is necessary? We can talk about this."
"I will talk to you in a few minutes, Curtis. Get in the room." He gestured with the gun.
They stepped into the room and tossed the keys back to Jason. He caught them and closed the door. A moment later the distinct sound of the lock sliding closed echoed through the room of hostages.
"So," said Emily, giddy with excitement, "what are you going to do next?"
Chapter 31
Frankie was standing outside the line of police cars. Spotlights were being set up around the parking lot to give them a better view of the interior, and there were snipers set up.
Her phone rang, and she answered.
"Lassiter," she said.
"Frankie," said Johnson. "Give me the update."
She brought him up to speed, then Johnson told her what happened at the FBI offices.
"Debra Coleman lawyered up. Did Curtis offer her immunity?" said Johnson.
"Yeah," said Frankie.
"Shit," said Johnson. "Her lawyer is going to roast us on that."
"There goes one of our best witnesses," said Frankie. "Do everything you can to make sure Debra Coleman knows we can help her. If you can actually offer her immunity, it might be a good idea."
"I'll see what I can do. How is Curtis?"
"He's fine," she said, hesitating. "Why are you worried about him?"
"He's been on edge ever since Blind River," said Johnson. "Can you really blame him? His father died, he confronted the devil from his past, multiple people died, and he feels responsible for their deaths--"
"What did you say?" said Frankie, a chill running down her spine.
"What do you mean?"
"You said that he felt guilty about the deaths. Are you talking about Bobby Randall and the cops? Chief Tucker? The people who died in the jail?"
"Yeah," said Johnson awkwardly. "That's who I'm talking about."
Frankie looked at the rest stop. The cops encircled it, guns drawn and crouched behind their cars, ready to react at a moment’s notice.
"Why haven't I heard anything about this?" said Frankie. "Is this through that therapist you were making Curtis go and see? The one who cleared him to work in the field?"
"Yeah," said Johnson. "She's been keeping me informed. It's the FBI. I need to know what's going on."
"But he has been cleared?"
"What's that?"
"Curtis has been cleared for field work?"
"Of course," said Johnson. "What do you think I am? Some rookie just getting his feet wet?" He was silent for a moment. "There's something else."
"What?" said Frankie.
"Natasha Nolowinski has an article in the morning edition of the Times. It's about you two, and she interviewed Sam Marino."
"Are you kidding me?" Frankie began pacing back and forth, her mind racing. "What did Marino tell her?"
"I have no idea," said Johnson.
"Try to stop it," said F
rankie. "If not let me know the content as soon as possible. Don't we have any connections within the Times?"
"We can't stop them from printing it," said Johnson. "It's unconstitutional."
"Of course," said Frankie.
"I'll leave you to it," said Johnson. "Give Curtis my regards."
Before Frankie could say anything else, the line went dead.
She was pondering what Johnson had told her when the phone rang again. She looked down and frowned.
Melanie was calling her. Although Frankie had Melanie's number, she couldn't recall a single time they had spoken on the phone, let alone when Melanie had called her.
She looked up at the rest stop. She had no doubt Melanie had tried calling Curtis first. Frankie stared at the phone, wondering what could be so urgent that Melanie needed to call now.
The call went to voicemail, and Frankie decided she would tell Curtis that Melanie was trying to reach him once this was over. She went to slide her phone back into his pocket, but it rang again.
It was Melanie again. She let it go to voicemail, again.
The phone rang again almost immediately.
Frankie stared down at the phone for a moment, feeling a sense of dread come over her as she hit the answer button.
"Hello?"
Chapter 32
Curtis paced the length of the storage room.
He had already spoken to each of the hostages to make sure they were okay. None had been physically hurt except for the man with the black eye. Most of the hostages were scared, except for one elderly woman who had a number tattooed on her arm. This wasn't new for her.
Emily had trailed behind him, trying to help. She had been excitedly talking about being involved in a terrorist plot and how exciting it was. Curtis had told her to be quiet, but thus far he had been unable to quell her excitement at being a hostage.
Lauren Mavis was sitting in the corner of the room, avoiding eye contact. She hadn't replied when Curtis had spoken to her.
The door opened, and Jason leaned in.
"Curtis," he said. "Come here."
Curtis stood and followed him out of the room, giving a reassuring look to the rest of the hostages. Lauren didn't look up, and Emily shot him two thumbs up and a winning smile that would have worked better in any other situation.