I grasped the implication and immediately felt nauseous. I bent over, the vest pressing uncomfortably into my chest.
“Look at me, Rose,” Pullman said assertively. He took my face in his hands, holding it up. His thumbs brushed against my cheeks comfortingly. “I need some assurance that you can handle this.” His eyes were wide, concerned.
“I’ll try,” I whispered, and he let go of my face. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. At that moment I realized I actually trusted him.
“Well, I guess that will have to do,” he said.
“Can …” I stopped and tried to catch my breath. “Can I speak to Will first?”
I didn’t know I was going to ask for it until the request came out of my mouth. But then I realized it was what I wanted. I wanted to speak to my sibling, a person who knew Tommy like I did, who’d get how absurd this was. Someone who could understand whatthisfelt like. I wanted to hear my big brother’s voice.
Pullman and Newbury locked eyes.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Newbury said. “We need to get you in there as soon as possible. Sometimes in situations like these the suspect changes their mind and tries to renegotiate. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Yes, okay.” I was trying to muster my resolve. It was my brother in there. I would talk to him, I would look at his face while he spoke to me, and we could figure this whole thing out.
The detectives led me out of the van and back to Tommy’s yard. Two officers, each holding a huge gun, walked with us. I briefly caught a glimpse of my parents sitting in another nearby van. They were both crying. Suzannah was sitting morosely in the back of an officer’s car.
“You ready, Ms. Dearling?” the closest SWAT officer asked as we approached the house. The two of them stopped when we got to the frontdoor. The one on the right nodded for me to knock. My hand shook as I tapped it against the door.
There were a few seconds of nothing before the sound of a lock clicked and the door cracked open, exposing Daisy’s little face. She looked exhausted and scared. Someone behind her gave her a gentle push forward. She hesitated in the doorway.
“Auntie Rosie?” she called, her eyes wide as she looked between me and the officers at my sides.
“Hi, Daisy chain,” I said, keeping my voice light. I bent down slightly. “Are you okay?” She nodded. I could see Tommy behind her now. He had a gun in his right hand, his left holding Felix to his hip. He made eye contact for a second, and I almost lost my resolve. He didn’t look any different, not that I really expected him too. He still looked like my older brother.
“Go, Daisy,” he said. “Go to Auntie Rosie.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured her. “These are my friends, and they are going to take you to your mom.” Daisy stepped hesitantly out of the doorframe, and I gripped her shoulder, pulling her faster toward me. One of the officers scooped her up and moved her out of the way.
“Tommy,” I said very carefully. “Hand me Felix.”
Felix had a pacifier in his mouth, his head resting on my brother’s shoulder. Tommy stiffened, taking an involuntary step back. I reached forward, my hands outstretched.
It took a second of maneuvering. Tommy kept the gun in his right hand as he transferred the weight of his toddler into my arms. I turned my back to Tommy, handing my nephew to the officer behind me.
“There,” I said, very aware of the fact that I was standing between them and Tommy. “I’m going to go inside now. Please leave.”
I took a step inside and closed the door behind me.
“Rosie.” Tommy looked relieved. His shoulders sagged, and he took a deep breath. “Thank god.”
Tommy’s relaxed expression filled me with rage.
“What the fuck’s going on, Tommy?”
He ignored me, staring at my chest. “Wait, why are you wearing a vest?”
“Are you kidding me?” The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He looked surprised. “You think I would hurt you?” He seemed genuinely offended. He took a step back, still clutching the gun. Then he came quickly toward me. I braced myself—for what, I didn’t know—as his frame towered over me. But he wrapped me tightly in a hug. I could feel the gun resting across my back as Tommy threw his arms over my shoulders. I didn’t move. I just stood stiffly as he cried, too angry to comfort him. Too scared to react. How different this hug felt from any other we’d ever had.
“I’m so sorry,” Tommy sobbed, his breath on my ear. “I don’t … I don’t know what to do.”
My hands were shaking so badly that I was afraid to reach up and touch him. Tommy seemed to sense my hesitancy. He pulled away. He looked like a wild animal. Skittish. My presence was no longer comforting. He went rigid, taking several steps back from me.
Was I afraid? A rational part of my brain understood that I was in danger. But still, the grief overwhelming me seemed more prominent.
