“What did you get?” Nick asked, fishtailing onto the Rte. 83 on-ramp, lights on and sirens wailing.
“Jackson Neudorfer was a high school junior who committed suicide a few years back. Looks like bullying was involved. Had a little brother named Hudson, who just so happens to work at Channel 50.”
“Fuck me,” Nick muttered, riding the ass of a pickup truck and laying on his horn.
“Language, Nicholas,” Elanora huffed from the back seat.
“Call Mrs. Penny,” he said, throwing his phone in Weber’s lap. “She’s the eyes on the scene. Looks like a hostage situation.”
“Great. Just what we need,” Weber complained. “The paperwork alone will take weeks. Wait. Is Mrs. Penny the purple-haired fool who ran the ring of vigilantes and smashed her minivan into the fountain?”
“That’s the one,” Nick said grimly.
“Fuck me. Drive faster.”
* * *
The cruiser screamedup Sixth Street and came to a halt just inches from the police barricade. Only a handful of cops were on the scene. Nick was already out of the car and running toward the building by the time a uniform started yelling that they couldn’t park there. Weber badged them through the barriers, and Elanora followed at a disapproving distance.
“What have we got?” Weber snapped at one of the uniforms.
“Looks like a hostage situation inside. No contact with the suspect yet. Still trying to identify him.”
“Hudson Neudorfer,” Weber said. “He’s an employee. Any idea how many hostages?”
“They were wrapping up the live morning show, so it’s a full house in there,” one of the officers reported.
Fists clenched at his side, Nick stared at the hideous building that separated him from Riley. He needed to get inside. He spotted Gabe on the other side of the police barricade leaning heavily against an SUV.
“Nicholas,” Elanora said, appearing at his side.
“Gah! What?”
“Riley will diffuse this situation,” she announced calmly. “But she’ll need your help to do it. You must get inside.”
“I’m working on it,” he promised.
She nodded grimly and disappeared into the crowd.
“Let him through,” Nick snapped at the closest officer and pointed at Gabe.
Gabe headed his way listing hard to the side.
“You okay there, Titanic?” Nick asked.
“I will be fine,” Gabe promised, slurring his words. “It was just a horse tranquilizer.”
“Where’s Penny?” Nick asked.
Gabe pointed to the building. “Inside.”
“Fuck. Show me.”
39
11:47 a.m., Tuesday, August 18
This was not how she was going to die, Riley decided. Not sitting on a concrete floor surrounded by idiots. Chelsea was on her right, muttering under her breath about lawyers. On her left, Riley’s ex-husband Griffin was rocking in place and whimpering about dry-cleaning fees.
