Archer cringed at the unfettered fear in her eyes now, but kept his focus glued to his scope. He was desperate to save this woman’s life, yet he still hoped he wouldn’t need to fire.
“You’re not being fair,” she said. “I was afraid your bomb at the bridge would take lives.”
Bomb at the bridge.
Aha...that’s it. How Archer knew the name Delmar. Though Archer wasn’t the negotiator and hadn’t responded with the First Response Squad to a bomb callout at the Interstate Bridge, he’d heard about the incident. Turned out there was no bomb, but a woman died in an unfortunate accident.
And Delmar, this man armed to kill, wanted revenge. On Emily. Maybe on the FRS for their response to the bridge callout.
A sick feeling sent acid burning up Archer’s throat.
“I had to report you, don’t you see?” Emily continued.
“And I have to end your life, don’t you see?” He ended in a high note, mimicking her.
She gaped at him. “Is that what this is all about today? Shooting others to get to me?”
“Big head, much?” He rolled his eyes. “No, seeing you walk in the door just gave me a chance to stop trying to make your death look like an accident and take you out in a blaze of glory.” He grinned, a mean, ugly smile. “Now close that vest so we can get on with my plans.”
“What do you mean me dying by accident?” Her fingers shook as she finished the loops, then she raised her shoulders and stood staring at him, her arms hanging limply at her side.
“Exactly what I said. A pot rack falling in your kitchen. An arrow barely missing you, lodging in the tree instead.”
Emily gasped. “You... Those...weren’t accidents...? You did it? But when the police found a camouflage hat, they said the arrow was likely from a hunter who ran off because the season hadn’t opened yet. They never thought someone had tried to kill me.”
Delmar grinned, but didn’t say another word. He drew out a trigger, the wires running straight to the bomb. Then he palmed the handheld trigger and proudly displayed it for the hostages.
Archer’s heart sank. The guy had admitted to trying to kill her, which could mean he had nothing to lose and planned to die today.
And was going to take himself and the hostages out with a bomb.
Emily took a step back, her gaze roaming the area. Her eyes locked on Archer. Before she could respond and give him away, he jerked out his badge and held it up for her to see then placed a finger over his mouth, telling her not to speak.
She took a deep breath then gave a jerky nod. Time stood still for a moment as he looked her in the eyes and transmitted confidence in his ability to end this standoff successfully. And before he looked away, he caught a flash of renewed strength in her eyes. She was a strong, courageous woman, and he was looking forward to meeting her once this was all over.
Archer returned to his scope. Fixed it on Delmar, then zoomed in to get a better look at the bomb trigger.
Archer wasn’t the bomb tech on the First Response Squad, but he’d seen his fair share of devices, and the unit in Delmar’s hand looked like a compression switch.
This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
If Delmar was shot or simply released his hand, the bomb would detonate.
Oh, man.
The game had dramatically changed. Not only was Emily—a woman Delmar hated and wanted dead—now his hostage, but he could take out the whole building with the simple release of his fingers.
TWO
Archer stood before Delmar Withrow and the hostages. After seeing the bomb, he’d crawled out to notify dispatch that they were now in a hostage situation and to prevent arriving officers from rushing the building and firing on Withrow. Then he’d called the FRS and pocketed his phone to keep his connection with team leader Jake Marsh so he and the team could listen in.
Archer had already gotten introductions out of the way with Withrow when he’d announced his presence over a bullhorn. Withrow demanded Archer leave his gun at the door before stepping inside to talk. Archer had no choice, and he’d complied.
Before he started negotiating, he quickly glanced at Emily to restore their earlier connection. He couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a second, but that was all it took to see her confidence in him.
Good. She was calm enough not to be a danger to herself or others.
He turned his attention to Withrow to start by asking for something in good faith. “I’d like to bring in medics to tend to the wounded.”
The gunman arched a bushy brow. “What’s in it for me?”
Right. He really didn’t care about the hostages. Not surprising. Archer resisted gritting his teeth. “If you don’t take this any further, your prison time will be greatly reduced.”
Withrow held up the trigger. “What makes you think I’m planning on going to prison instead of letting this go?”
“You should consider it as an option.”
“Maybe.” A sick grin slid across his lips. “Once my demands are met.”
Now they were getting somewhere.
Archer kept the hope for a peaceful resolution from his voice and spoke in Withrow’s deadpan tone. “Demands?”
“Quit trying to yank my chain.” Withrow scowled. “I know you’re here to try to talk me out of this, but you won’t. You have to know by my actions that I’m committed to my cause and will stop at nothing for my voice to be heard.”
“This isn’t the way to do it,” Emily said matter-of-factly.
Withrow glared at her. “A real advocate of environmental causes would be here applauding me. Helping me. Not antagonizing me.”
She gaped at him. “Do you really think anyone in Oregon Free would support murdering people?”
“Some would.”
“How do you know that?” she prompted.
“Because we discussed it.”
“So others know about this...your plan to kill people?” she asked.
“Maybe.” He grinned.
So he had people supporting him. One. Two. Possibly more? Could these accomplices have helped him with those other so-called accidents he’d mentioned, too?
Archer hated relinquishing control of the conversation to Emily, but getting the guy on record admitting his crimes would help in keeping him behind bars, so Archer would stand back unless this turned ugly.
“Stan’s working with you, right?” she prodded. “He and Cindy were engaged, and I know he’s mad at me. Did he help you with the arrow and pot rack, too?”
“Really, Emily? You think I’m going to tell you.”
“You felt free to say you’d tried to kill me,” she pointed out. “Why not tell me if you had help?”
“I have nothing to lose.” He held out the trigger, raising Archer’s apprehension. “Not after this. But I won’t implicate those who can carry on my mission.”
Archer could feel the hatred radiating from the creep. Emily was the enemy and he had friends standing behind him. Even if Archer succeeded in resolving this safely and putting Withrow behind bars, would the others continue their attacks on her?
“You mentioned a cause,” Archer said. “Tell me about it.”
Withrow swung his gaze back to Archer. “It’s about time someone asked. Big Oil is trying to transport three hundred and sixty thousand barrels of oil a day through the Columbia River Gorge. Railroad cars loaded with the stuff. I aim to stop it today.”
Archer was familiar with the contentious battle with the corporation that’d built a large oil depot just across the state line and hoped to transport oil in a mobile pipeline.
“I would think you’d go straight to the oil company and place your demands there,” Archer continued in a calm, steady voice. “How can shooting up a mall help?”
“Just like a cop.” Con
tempt tightened Withrow’s eyes. “Can’t see the obvious. Security at the oil company is like trying to break into Fort Knox, and I’d get nowhere.”
“Still doesn’t explain the mall.”
“Couldn’t resist the chance to pay back my so-called neighbors who are supporting the pipeline. And, of course, this...” he paused and held up the trigger “...wouldn’t have been possible in the city. Cops would be breathing down my neck before I got the vest out of the bag. But out in the country you cops are few and far between.”
He was right. Many Oregon counties had lost funding and had to cut back on law enforcement. This county was no exception.
“Now,” Withrow continued, “you’re going to get a TV reporter on site to film this so people will sit up and take notice and finally stand up to the stinking oil company.”
“So you want to speak to a reporter?” Archer clarified.
“Yeah. Get one out here to do an interview, and I’ll turn over the trigger.”
Archer didn’t trust that Withrow’s motives were as pure as he was making it sound, but Archer could use the demand to negotiate for the evacuation of the wounded. “You allow the medics to tend to the innocents you wounded and transport them to the ER, and I’ll work on arranging your interview.”
Withrow arched an eyebrow. “I only plugged three guys and all of them deserved it.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“You mean that they deserved it? Yeah. They’ve supported Big Oil and it was about time someone made them pay.”
“I meant with all the bullets you fired, that you only hit three people?”
“It’s the truth.” He waved the trigger device at Emily. “This was my end game all along.”
“In that case, you’ll let the medics in,” Archer stated.
“The guys deserved what they got, but...” He shrugged. “If letting the medics haul them out gets me what I want, then so be it. I’ll provide the location of the first two and if the reporter isn’t here by then, number three will have to wait.”
Of course, he would arrange this to meet his needs alone. “I have to get out my phone to call my supervisor.”
“Go ahead.”
Archer dug out his phone. Not that the call mattered at all other than to assuage Withrow, as Jake would never let a reporter come into a standoff.
As Archer talked, Withrow stepped to his backpack and traded his rifle for a handgun. He circled around Emily and jerked her against his chest. He pressed the gun against her temple.
Archer expected her to blanch or even get sick, but she stood strong through his call and while the medics removed two of the injured.
“Okay, Nee-go-tiator,” Withrow sneered. “Seein’s how you didn’t comply with my demand, I’ll give you another thirty minutes. I see a reporter or I detonate the bomb.”
“You don’t want to do this, Delmar,” Archer said in a flat tone. “You heard the medics. The people you shot were still alive. So why not do this the smart way? You don’t need to die today.”
“This’s the only way I get to talk to a reporter.”
“Not so. I can get on the phone right now and arrange for an interview for you once you surrender.”
“Right.” Delmar’s brow creased. “You’d arrest me and then not follow through.”
“Even if I did—” Archer paused and looked him square in the eye “—which I won’t—you don’t have to rely on me. You control the people who visit you in County lockup. Put any or every reporter you can think of on your visitor list and they’ll be glad to come see you. That way your message will be broadcast on more than one station.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I could, couldn’t I?”
“Sure. Plus, if you direct us to the last guy, you won’t go away for murder and can get out so much sooner to continue your quest to protect the environment.”
“Maybe,” he said and his arm slackened from around Emily’s neck.
“Not only that,” Archer added, making sure he sounded enthusiastic, “you can continue fighting for your cause from prison. You can’t do that if you release the trigger.”
Archer could see he was making progress and it was time to end the standoff. “Who’s going to take up the charge if you’re not here? No one’s as passionate about it as you are. Don’t you want to keep fighting?”
“I do.”
Archer slowly lifted his arm and held out his hand. “Then give me the remote, and I’ll make sure the reporter comes to visit you.”
Withrow took a halting step forward.
Yes...
Then another step.
It was all Archer could do not to rush the guy, but he stayed put, his feet planted firmly on the ground.
Withrow took the remaining steps. Held out the trigger. Archer wrapped his hand around it and freed it from Withrow.
The room seemed to sigh in relief.
“Now on the floor, hands behind your back,” Archer said in a nonthreatening tone when every part of him wanted to bark orders at the man.
Withrow’s expression changed, and he looked as if he was going to balk.
“Your cause,” Archer soothed as he might with a small child. “Remember your cause.”
Withrow gave a firm nod, then lay down.
Wearing tactical gear, the First Response Squad flooded the room. Archer held firm on the trigger and looked at Emily. A grateful smile played across her lips, and if he wasn’t already captivated by her incredible bravado under pressure, her smile was enough to suck him in and never let him go.
* * *
The deputy named Archer who saved them all crossed over to Emily. He’d risked his life coming into this building to rescue them. Took a fine man to do that and she wanted to fling her arms round his neck and express her thanks. But she still wore the vest and until she was out of it, this wasn’t over for her.
“The vest. Can I take it off now, please?” she implored, as chaos seemed to reign around her with men in black clothes, helmets and heavy vests hauling Delmar to his feet.
Archer shook his head regretfully. “Our bomb expert will be in soon to take the trigger and help you.”
“How long will that be?”
“He’s suiting up now. I know these guys look kind of intimidating in their tactical attire, but if you haven’t done anything wrong you have nothing to worry about.”
She shot him a look. “Do you think I’m involved in this? Because I assure you I’m not.”
He shrugged as if he dealt with incidents like this every day. Maybe he did, but she sure didn’t. “I know Delmar, yes, but as you heard he hates me and apparently wants to kill me.”
“Yeah, I heard, and it sounds like you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it’s not up to me to figure out your role. Once you’re free of the bomb, we’ll turn this over to detectives to sort out and my team and I will take off.”
“No!” she said before thinking about it. “Please. You saw me through this so far... Can’t you stay? Just for a little while.”
She sounded weak and whiny but she didn’t care. She was still wearing a vest. A bomb vest, for goodness’ sake! And people had been gunned down right in front of her. Unbelievable.
She didn’t think she’d ever forget what she’d seen and heard today. How could life ever go back to normal? Especially if Stan was coming after her to kill her. This handsome deputy standing tall and strong beside her, the man who risked his life for her, gave her hope that she desperately needed right now.
“Please,” she added when he didn’t speak.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Let me go talk to my team leader.” He took powerful strides across the space and stopped by a man who removed his helmet.
The leader clapped Archer on the back. “Great work, Archer.�
�
Archer.
She liked the name. Kind of regal and formal, which seemed to fit him. At times, there was something in his expression that was warm and welcoming, and yet there was an undercurrent of steel and a warning not to mess with him.
He looked every bit the rescuer, too. He was very tall, six foot four maybe, long and lean, but solidly built. A square jaw, sandy brown hair cut short and a uniform that fit to a T added to her perception. His eyes were icy blue and they seemed to look right through people.
He also seemed like a man who liked to control the action.
Just her type. Which meant if she crossed paths with him ever again, she’d turn and run in the other direction, as she wasn’t getting involved with any man. Ever.
She jerked her focus away and watched as two men snapped cuffs on Delmar and hauled him to his feet before marching him forward.
“Easy now,” he bellowed. “You’ll pay for every bruise I find.”
At his approach, he glared at her, his eyes a mass of anger and resentment. His narrow lips curled up in a wicked smile. His dark, sinister stare remained locked on her.
She cringed and wanted to scoot back from the barely contained rage, but that’s what he wanted, so she stayed strong.
His smile turned into a smirk. “You may have won this round, but our fight is far from over, sweetheart. And if I were you, I’d watch your back.”
THREE
Emily sat at a folding table under a canopy in the mall’s parking lot. Birdie rested at a similar table twenty feet away. A vacant, empty expression born from jumbled memories claimed her aunt’s face. Emily had asked to stay with Birdie and offer comfort, but Detective Carothers, who would investigate the case, forbid them to talk to each other until after they’d given their statements.
Poor Birdie. Stuck here. Alone. Lost and confused.
A common problem these days. Hour after hour. Day after day. Confusion. Fear. Living in another world. All courtesy of Alzheimer’s, early stage two. If they could afford a care nurse, Emily would have left her aunt home today. If it hadn’t been absolutely necessary, Emily wouldn’t have come either, but upcoming guests were expecting to find all-natural soap at the environmentally friendly B and B, and ordering soap was just one of the things that had fallen through the cracks as she desperately tried to save the business.
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