Hunter yanked her down behind him. “Get back inthe car. Now.”
“No.” She plastered her hand to his lower back. “I’m the only one with a modicum of training here. It wasn’t with hostages, but I worked with patients…” Her voice trailed off.
Hunter closed his eyes. What had happened with her patient wasn’t her fault. Nobody truly knew what lived in anotherperson’s mind.
The young cop tossed over a bullhorn. “We don’t have anybody here with hostage experience.”
Damn it. Hunter caught it easily. His entire military career had been geared toward understanding the target in order to find and shoot him. Not to negotiate or forge a bond. Raider was better with people, but he also aimed to arrest or take down. Negotiation, especially with hostages, was a whole different skill set, and having a psychology degree would certainly help. But if Faye tried to assist, and things went south, she’d go to that dark place again. How could he let her do that?
Faye reached around him and took the bullhorn, clicking the button. “Louise? My name is Faye, and I’d really like to talk to you.”
Nothing. No sound came from within.
Faye looked over at the kid. “Tell me about Clara. What do you know?”
“Everything,” the cop said, the swirling lights dancing across his clean-shaven face. He had short black hair, dark skin, and sober brown eyes. “Everyone knows everybody around here. Clara is about seventy years old. Lost her husband in Vietnam and raised two kids by herself. Married an asshole the second time around and nearly took his head off with a frying pan. He’s long gone.”
“Where are her kids?”Faye whispered.
“One’s a doctor in town, and the other is a stage actor in New York. He comes home every holiday, though.”
Faye nodded and partially stood, clicking the button again. “Louise? That Clara you’re holding has had a rough life, too. Married the wrong guy and had a fryingpan incident.”
There was silence, and then the blind slats opened.
Faye tried to move out from behind Hunter, but he shook his head. If she moved too far, he’d toss her butt back in the vehicle, whether she liked it or not.
The door slowly opened. “Get the cops out of here, or I’ll shoot her.” Louise pushed Clara in front of her, using her as a shield. She had a handgun pressed to the elderlywoman’s throat.
Clara’s gray hair was in a ponytail, and her brown eyes were calm. Her shoulders were hunched with age beneath her flowered dress, but she held herself well, and was at least five inches taller than Louise, unfortunately. She made a good shield. Her pale skin was papery thin, and she looked like everyone’s idea of a sweet grandmother. So far, Hunter didn’t have a shot.
Faye moved slightly to the side and Hunter tensed. “How could you shoot somebody who’s had bad experiences like you have? Her husband hurt her, and she hurt him back and then left him. Your husband is a bad guy, too, right?”
Louise barely leaned around Clara, her eyes wild. She wore jeans, boots, and a black sweatshirt. “You don’t know me. Don’t even try to getinto my head.”
“I don’t want in your head,” Faye said. “I just want everyone to get outof this alive.”
The smile Louise flashed gave Hunter the chills. “None of us gets out of this world alive. You should know that.” She cocked her head, her gaze landing on Hunter. “Youlook…familiar.”
“Jackson Holt is my brother,” Hunter said, standing in front of Faye again. “Just found out about him. Had no clue.”
“Right,” Louise said, drawing back, her nostrils flaring. “You left him with that asshole who hurt him. If you’d found out, you would’ve just hurt that boy more. I knowmen like you.”
“No, you don’t,” Hunter countered, lowering his gun. “I’ve never hurt a woman. Not once. AndI never would.”
Louise laughed, the sound high and crazed. “That’s what you all say. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you. It’ll never happen again.’ Or even worse, ‘That never happened.’ So much bullshit.” She pulled Clara back acouple of feet.
Faye leaned around Hunter. “Why convenience stores, Louise? I mean, I understand why you love Jackson.” To her credit, she didn’t let her disgust show. “But why do you keep killing people in small stores? Your parents didn’t ownone, did they?”
“No. My parents didn’t do shit,” Louise said slowly.
Okay. Something had definitely happened. Hunter let Fayekeep the lead.
“It’s not this woman’s fault,” Faye said. “She’s a nice lady who lost her first husband and then left one who hurt her. She’s like you.”
Louise pressed the gun harder against Clara’s thin throat, and the elderly woman winced. “Leave this parking lot, or I shoot her in the head,” Louise bellowed. The door closed, and thelocks engaged.
“Shit,” Hunter muttered.
