“Tasha, are you okay?” asked a concerned Lizzie, reaching up towards Tasha's temple that was bruised and coming up in a lump.
“Fine.” She hugged Lizzie while Mickie watched them as she began to drink what was possibly a second bottle of scotch.
****
“How do you expect me to calm the fuck down while my fiancée and daughter are being held hostage along with my son's boyfriend by the woman that has already tried and failed to murder my fiancée?” Jim shouted across his office which had now become a makeshift police incident room.
Sargent Masterson nodded his understanding at Jim while Detective Murphy tried to offer some comfort.
“Mr Maybury, we have negotiators on the way and SWAT are positioning themselves now and most people who take hostages mean them no real harm.”
Jim glared at him. “Did you hear a word I said? This particular hostage taker has already tried to murder one of her hostages so I think your point is moot and if you had been doing your job correctly you would have apprehended Mickie when she turned up here. That was the whole point of this elaborate ploy, to draw Mickie out of hiding, to entice her with the opportunity to get to Tasha, but safely, under your supervision and at no risk to anyone, least of all Tasha.”
He slumped into the nearest chair and roughly ran a hand through his hair wondering how this could be happening. He began to rock back and forth, bouncing on his feet slightly as he considered every outcome of this hideous situation. Jim was desperate for a positive outcome, one where both Lizzie and Tasha came back to him, safe and unharmed, but there was a gut churning fear that the outcome would be anything but that. Shaking his head, as if by doing so the dark thoughts would be dislodged, Jim returned his attention to Detective Murphy and their current plight.
“And yet here we are with Mickie gaining access to my home and family under your noses and it was Amanda, a guest here that recognised Mickie was on the grounds and raised the alarm, so please stop trying to offer me cold comfort and placate me or I will not be responsible for my actions. Oh, and if one hair on any of their heads is harmed, I will hold you, your colleagues and their incompetency personally responsible. Now what is the plan for getting them out of there?” asked Jim as Bobby sat next to him, ready to speak when another policeman appeared in the doorway.
“There's some movement over there,” he said breathlessly, prompting movement from the Sargent and detective.
“Counsellor, can I leave your brother in your care?” asked Masterson as he headed towards the hall.
“Sure. Abby, go and take care of Philip with Mom please,” Bobby told his wife, concerned that movement may be a bad thing in this case.
By the time Jim got to the front door, behind the police cordon with Bobby at his side, the front door of Philip's house was open. A white cloth of some kind waved from it. The sound of guns being cocked around them seemed almost deafening and the sight of red dots grouped together on the front door had Jim holding his breath. It was like one of those 3D images that your eyes need to adjust to and then bang the image is crystal clear. That is exactly how Jim recognised and announced, “Juan,” who was walking slowly towards Jim’s home under Masterson's instructions.
Juan was received by the detectives and everyone else who was there, but it was Jim he turned to first.
“I'm sorry, Jim. Tasha wanted Mickie to send Lizzie out but she sent me.” He cried as Philip charged through the crowd to get to him.
“Are you okay? I thought she'd hurt you. I’m so sorry I was a jerk before, I love you,” Philip told him in broken cries as he hugged his boyfriend.
Philip began to pull Juan through to the back of the house when Murphy intervened.
“Juan? We can get you checked out by the paramedics but we really need to speak to you.”
“Yeah, fine. We need to get Tasha out of there, and Lizzie. I think she'll let Lizzie go but not Tasha, not alive,” he said and began to sob as he was led into the formal lounge that had been commandeered as some kind of debriefing room where the medics were waiting.
Having had Juan checked over and happy he was unharmed beyond the shock of everything that had happened, the detectives began to question him about what he had witnessed in the house; how Mickie seemed, what she'd said, what weapon she had and where they were all situated. He answered every question that was put to him while maintaining eye contact with Jim who said nothing but listened intently to the information.
“Did Mickie actually say she was planning on killing Tasha?” asked Masterson calmly, but eyed Jim with caution.
Juan’s shoulders began to shake as he tearfully confirmed the detective's question. “Yes. She said she wasn't going to prison, that it was her last night on earth and Tasha's too.”
“Why didn't she just try and get close enough to Miss Winters to take her out?” asked Murphy thinking aloud.
“She seems to want to make Tasha suffer,” began Juan. “She keeps making her answer questions, embarrassing ones, about sex, her past and Jim and stuff to humiliate her I think and then she tells Tasha stuff about herself if she answers.”
“What happens if Tasha doesn't answer, do you know?” asked Murphy.
“She's hit Tash a couple of times with the gun, but she’s also turned on Lizzie when Tash wouldn't answer, asking her horrible questions, real personal stuff which then forces Tasha to answer because she wants to protect Lizzie,” explained Juan tearfully.
“Has she said what she intends to do with Lizzie?” Masterson nervously watched a furious and heartbroken looking Jim as he waiting for Juan’s response, then flicked another cautionary glance towards Bobby.
“No, but she seemed to agree with Tasha's summing up that it was between the two of them rather than me and Lizzie. We were just due some payback for crossing her in the past.”
“Okay,” smiled Masterson empathetically, turning as someone appeared at the door.
“Negotiator's here,” the newcomer announced.
