by Platt, Sean
“Frankly, I’m surprised that you thought anyone was good. I thought you were the pessimist between us.”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? I’m an optimist now.”
“Yeah, right.”
She stared as Gloria, McDaniels, and Tellison stepped out of the mobile command unit and started talking to some other deputies and FBI agents while preparing to make the first contact with Paul.
Mal turned to Mike. “You think he might be an accomplice?”
“Don’t know. But I think we ought to try and find him.”
“Agreed.”
Mal watched as Tellison, with his bulletproof vest beneath his blue FBI jacket, approached the bunker’s hatch holding a throw phone.
Before Tellison reached the hatch, a man’s voice commanded, “Stop.”
The voice was coming from a speaker system that wasn’t just coming from the hatch’s door, but from two or three points around them in the woods. Dodd had set up speakers around his bunker. Mal wondered how much he’d prepared for this day, and what other surprises he might have planted around them.
Bear traps? Mines? Bombs?
And again, surely there were cameras.
Paul was probably watching her now.
Tellison introduced himself, then told Paul that he wanted to leave the throw phone at the hatch so they could talk more directly.
But Paul said, “I don’t want your phone.”
“Shit,” Mike whispered.
Throw phones weren’t used just to speak with the hostage taker. They had miniature cameras that the FBI could use to get eyes inside the building, determine the layout, see whether it was rigged with traps, and, maybe most importantly, what condition the hostage was in. But they couldn’t do their job if the hostage taker refused to take it.
Mal wondered if he knew the phone had a camera. It wasn’t common knowledge, but it could’ve been something he used in the military. Or maybe he studied police technology and techniques like many serial killers did. There was at least one profile of the Unsub who killed Ashley that said he might be involved in law enforcement. That was close to ex-military
“I don’t want to talk,” Paul said. “And I don’t have any demands. I just want you all to leave me alone.”
“Give us Jessi, and we’ll leave you be.”
His voice ice cold: “Jessi isn’t here.”
Mal froze from the inside, hearing the murderer who killed her baby, broke into her home, and terrorized her.
He was so close, yet so far away.
She wanted to hurt him. Grab him by the throat and end his worthless life. She couldn’t do that, nor would she risk her freedom to kill him.
But a girl could dream.
“We know she’s in there,” Tellison said. “We just want to bring her back to her parents.”
“I said she’s not in here! Now please get off of my property.”
Tellison looked back at McDaniels, standing just outside the mobile command unit, then back down at the hatch.
“We can’t leave here without Jessi. We know she’s with you.”
“Yeah? How do you know that?”
“We’ve got surveillance of you bringing her here,” Tellison lied.
Mal couldn’t believe he’d tell such a blatant lie. Of all the things he could’ve said, why choose something like that?
Paul’s laugh crackled over the speakers. “Yeah, is that so? Then what’s she wearing?”
“Okay, you got me,” Tellison admitted. “I’m lying. Obviously, we didn’t see anything. But we have credible intelligence that puts Jessi with you.”
Mal wondered if Tellison’s lie was just so he could get called on it, then “admit” the truth. Another tactic to forge a connection with Paul.
“She’s not here.”
“Well, we still need to check. If you’d just let us take a look inside, we can be on our way.”
“Leave. Now.”
Tellison wasn’t budging. “Your ex-wife Rachel and your daughter Lily, they’re worried about you, Paul.”
Paul didn’t respond.
“I’d like to tell them that you’re okay. Why don’t you open the hatch so we can talk?”
“How dare you use my daughter’s name to try and get me to open my door to you? Leave! Now!”
Tellison was walking a fine line between engaging Paul and pissing him off. Mal hoped he wouldn’t go too far and get Jessi killed.
“I’ll talk to my boss, Paul. In the meantime, can we get you anything? Food? Water? Does Jessi need anything?”
Paul said nothing.
Tellison walked back to the mobile command unit, defeated, but with his head held high.
And now, the waiting.
* * * *
CHAPTER 52 - JASPER PARISH
The hostage negotiation with Paul Dodd was all over the news by nightfall. Reporters were coming “live from the scene” standing in the woods, likely right outside the second perimeter, updating TV anchors with the scant information they had.
Everything was going through the FBI, who would neither confirm nor deny that Paul Dodd was the person they were attempting to negotiate with.
Jordyn sat on the couch beside Jasper, eating from a giant blue bowl of popcorn. He wanted to ask her if she found this entertaining, but knew she tended to eat when anxious. And they were both on edge, waiting to see how this would play out, and if Jasper had made the right decision in turning this over to the sheriff’s department, and now the FBI, rather than tending to business himself.
“How long you think this’ll go on?” Jordyn asked.
“Could be days.”
“Days? Come on, people have to sleep.”
“You can sleep if you want. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
“I’m good,” she said, despite her tired eyes.
He got up, went to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of wine.
He went back to the couch, sat, and took a sip of his Pinot Grigio. It was crisp, and it made Jasper think of a porch swing on a hot day. Just one more way to give his brain an escape.
“Wine?” Jordyn asked, eyebrows arched.
“I need something to take the edge off. And popcorn,” he said with an eye roll, “doesn’t do the trick for me.”
He smiled, then took another sip.
His cell phone rang.
Jasper looked at the screen and saw Lenny’s number.
“Hey,” Jasper said, getting up and answering the phone.
“So, this shit on TV. That’s you?”
“Yep,” Jasper said, walking into his bedroom and softly closed the door.
“And they said that the sheriff’s department had received an anonymous tip. That you, Mr. Anonymous?”
Jasper laughed. “It wouldn’t be anonymous if I told you.”
“I thought you were going to take care of this.” Lenny sounded almost disappointed.
“I thought you wanted me to give up this life.”
“No, I wanted you to keep Jordyn out of it. Big difference.”
“Well, now we’re both out. You should be happy for me.”
Lenny was quiet.
After a long moment, he said, “Of course I’m happy for you. You’ve done great, son. Now enjoy some much-needed time off.”
Lenny hung up.
Jasper felt like he’d let the old man down.
He flashed back to the eighth grade, playing point guard for Lenny’s summer basketball team, and the coach’s one big rule: never waste his time.
You showed up to practice. You kept your nose clean. You did what you said that you’d do.
Practice was three times a week, on top of their two scheduled games. Five days of basketball, which was great when Jasper was younger and more into it. But as high school approached and Jasper began to notice girls, he grew more interested in his social life than sports.
He became specifically more interested in a girl named Staci who had started showing an interest in him. She was pretty, smart, and t
he first girl to give Jasper the time of day. One day she asked him to take the bus to the mall with her. This was the first time they’d be hanging out without her friends and seemed like the perfect opportunity to move their relationship along.
Jasper blew off practice that day.
Staci spent half their trip to the mall talking about some other boy she liked, Jasper's friend Jake. So not only did he ditch the game for nothing, he felt stupid and guilty.
He dreaded the next game, figuring that Lenny would lay into him in front of the entire team. Ask why he didn’t show up, or call, just left his teammates high and dry?
The next game, on a Friday night, was supposed to be epic, against their biggest rival. Jasper's stomach churned like it was making ice cream. He entered the gym, hoping that a missed practice wouldn’t affect his game and Lenny wouldn’t yell at him in front of everyone, or make an example of him as he had other kids in the past.
But Lenny didn’t say a word to Jasper.
He made the team do their drills just like usual.
Jasper wondered if Lenny had somehow missed his absence. Had he overestimated his importance to the team? He was the starting point guard, but they had a second one who was decent enough. Maybe it didn’t even matter if Jasper showed up for practice.
Jasper went through the drills, finding himself almost upset that Lenny hadn’t pulled him aside to ask about his missed practice.
But Lenny said nothing.
Then the game started, and Jasper, for the first time in two years was sitting on the bench. And there he stayed for the entire game. Jasper was afraid to ask when he’d be going in. This was his punishment, and Lenny was making a point. Jasper asking why would be an insult to the coach and his team.
So, he sat there and watched.
Watched the backup point guards make ten turnovers.
Watched his team lose by fifteen points.
Watched his screw-up cost the team an important win against their biggest rival.
Watched his teammates avoid him as if he wasn’t even there.
They didn’t sit near him on the bench.
Didn’t ask why he wasn’t playing.
He was ostracized, no longer part of the team, but still forced to sit and watch, like a ghost unable to interact with his family.
Even worse, Jasper's mom usually got off work right before the fourth quarter. She was always there for the end of the game and to take him home.
But not that night.
After the game, Jasper couldn’t make eye contact with Coach.
He headed to the locker room, fighting tears, desperate to get his bag and go to the parking lot where his mom would be waiting.
But she didn’t show up after the game, either.
Kids left with their parents and the parking lot steadily emptied. Jasper felt more alone than at any time since his father’s passing.
He sat on the curb no longer able to keep his tears from coming.
The door opened behind him, and Jasper heard Coach’s voice talking to one of the gym’s employees.
He wiped the tears from his face, wishing he could disappear so Coach wouldn’t see him.
But Jasper needn’t have worried.
Coach and the other guy walked right by him, toward their cars, carrying on their conversation as if Jasper wasn’t even there.
The men got in their cars and started to leave.
Jasper’s heart was breaking, a million pieces everywhere.
Coach’s car turned from the exit, heading back toward the gym instead.
The car’s lights washed over Jasper, making him feel exposed and vulnerable.
Here it comes.
Coach pulled up, rolled down his passenger side window, and said, “Your momma’s not coming.”
“What?”
“I told her not to.”
“Why?”
“Get in the car.”
Jasper did, slowly, dreading what was to come.
They drove a few minutes before Coach finally spoke. “You know why I benched you tonight?”
“Yes, Coach.”
“Tell me.”
“Because I didn’t show up to practice.”
“Why else?”
“I dunno.”
“Really?”
“Because I let the team down?”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. But that’s not all of it.”
“What then?”
“What’s my number one rule?”
“Don’t waste your time?”
“And why is that?”
Jasper repeated something the coach had said to them many times when they weren’t playing full-out at practice. “Because you don’t have to be here. You’ve got a day job that’s hard, and you could just as easily be sitting home watching TV.”
Coach smiled. “That’s part, but not all of it.”
“What is the rest?”
“If I invest in you that means you’d better damn well be investing in yourself. It’s one thing to waste my time, but to waste your own? That’s the biggest sin.”
Jasper wasn’t supposed to say anything. Just sit there and let it sink in.
“We get one go ‘round in this life, son. The things you spend your time on will define you. They’ll shape the rest of your life. Now I’m not gonna ask why you missed practice. But I do have to know if it was worth more than being part of the team?”
“No, Coach.”
“Because if you found something better, by all means, son, go do that thing. Life’s too short to do stuff you ain’t happy doing.”
“I’m happy playing on the team, Coach.”
Coach looked him up and down. “Good. I’m happy having you here.”
And that was the last time Jasper ever missed practice or let down Coach.
Until now.
He returned to the living room to see Jordyn passed out on the couch. He pulled the blanket over her body, kissed his daughter on the forehead, then went to bed.
* * * *
CHAPTER 53 - MALLORY BLACK
It was just after midnight and Tellison’s three attempts to make progress with Paul Dodd were all met with nothing.
Mal and Mike sat at a small table inside the mobile command unit with Gloria, Tellison, McDaniels, and Timucua County Sheriff Samuel Johnson, eating cold pizza, several hours old.
It was going to be a long night.
Possibly a long few days.
If the standoff went too long, Gloria would likely reach out to the local RV dealer to supply a few vehicles for key personnel to sleep between shifts.
Sitting in the center of the table, atop the pizza boxes, were tons of papers and reports from field agents who’d spent the entire day and evening interviewing pretty much everyone Paul had ever worked with, gone to school with, served in the Army with, or lived nearby. This was still early going, with plenty of interviews to conduct over the next few days, all in hopes of finding something that might give them an edge in ending this with Jessi returned to her parents. But so far, they’d found nothing to give Tellison an opening.
Every attempt to speak to Paul had been met with a command to leave.
Mal was claustrophobic thinking of Jessi down in that bunker with the same monster who’d stolen, raped, and murdered her daughter.
Mal imagined the little girl huddled in a corner, crying, terrified, with no idea what might happen next. Help was right above her. She could hear the voice of at least one FBI agent wanting to return Jessi to her parents, but this monster stood in his way.
How long until he killed the girl and then, as so many cowards did, turned the gun on himself?
Mal’s heart felt almost bruised, knowing that Jessi’s walls were closing in around her. She could feel the RV’s walls collapsing, too.
She needed to get out of there.
“I need some fresh air.” Mal grabbed her water bottle, stuffed it halfway into her front jacket pocket, and headed out the door.
She walked fast b
efore Mike would inevitably follow, thinking she’d wanted to talk alone.
But she didn’t want Mike around.
Mal needed solitude.
She walked away from the RV, away from the clusters of spotlights, deputies, and agents, venturing toward the dark woods, not even caring that they might be booby-trapped with God-only-knew-what.
She just needed to be out.
And once alone, standing in the darkness, inhaling the crisp, cold October night air, she tried to calm her rising anxieties by slowing her breath, closing her eyes, and focusing on the present.
She closed her eyes, tuning out the sounds of chatter, the hum of the generators and the RV, finding a relative quiet to settle.
But as she tried to calm herself, Mal kept picturing Jessi Price, some twenty feet below, trapped with the monster.
Then Jessi was replaced with Ashley.
Even though she knew that her daughter was dead and that she only imagined Ashley in danger, it still sent Mal into a blind panic, desperate to do something.
She reached deep into her coat pocket, found the pills she’d avoided all day, popped the cap, and shook a few into her palm.
A branch snapped behind her.
She turned to see Mike staring, first at her, then at her dropped bottle of pills. A white-hot heat rushed to her face as she fell to her knees and fished pills from the grass and dirt, quickly returning them to the bottle and hoping to avoid her old partner’s scrutiny.
She returned the bottle to her pocket, without taking a pill, hoping Mike would say nothing.
“You okay?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, just need some fresh air.”
He was quiet, maybe deliberating whether to ask about the pills.
He nodded instead. “Okay, well, if you need me I’ll be in the MCC.”
He walked away, branches breaking underfoot.
Mal’s heart pounded. Her breath short. Shame burrowed in her gut.
But she didn’t care about the shame as much as relieving her anxiety. Otherwise, it might spiral out of control and into a full-blown panic attack.