Page 6 of Every Last One
“You want the people inside to be safe. You want to be safe. So let the police, and us”—she gestured to Brice—“do our jobs.”
The confrontational woman came up to Sandra’s face. “Why should we trust you?”
Sandra remained calm despite the woman being close enough she could feel her warm breath on her face. She slowly drew out her business card and held it toward the woman. “Myname is Sandra Vos, an FBI negotiator, and I assure you I’m going to do all I can for a peaceful resolution here today. What’s your name?”
The woman took her card, holding eye contact with Sandra until she looked down at the text. “Remy Bishop. My sister, Janie DeSilva, works in there. I was supposed to meet her for coffee, but I was running behind like I always am, and now… this.” She flailed a hand toward the police officer.
The woman didn’t realize how fortunate it was that she was late. “Remy, I’ll do what I can, all right?”
“Just promise me if you find out that she’s okay, you’ll let me know. I’m going crazy out here. You have my name. You want my number?”
Agreeing was a potential minefield with so many listening in. She couldn’t take everyone’s information, but seeing the desperation in the woman’s watery eyes tugged at Sandra’s heart. “Sure.”
Remy gave Sandra her number, and she keyed it into her phone in the notepad app.
“Thank you.” Remy backed up.
With the situation now de-escalated, Sandra turned to the officer.
“That was pretty impressive, Agent Vos,” the officer said, while lifting the barricade tape for her and Brice to slip under.
The compliment washed over her because praise didn’t matter. Results did. “We all have the same basic need to feel safe. I just appealed to that.”
“Whatever the case. It was impressive.”
“Could you direct us to the person in charge down here?” She preferred to move forward than remain stuck in this uncomfortable exchange.
“You bet. Lieutenant Rick Kreiger.” He then directed them to where the mobile command center was parked, one street up and one across.
“Thank you,” she said before leaving him.
“Anytime, Vos.”
As they followed the officer’s directions, Sandra’s mind was on the assurance she made to the people at the cordon line. She would do all she could for a peaceful resolution. That was always her goal, but seeing that swell of people made it sink in just how many lives were on the line. And how many families and friends would be affected by what transpired here today.
Brice looked over at her. “I could have gotten us here in less time.”
“Small talk right now? Really?”
He shrugged. “Never hurts.”
She could argue that sometimes it did. Like now when she was balancing the load of responsibility on her shoulders. But playing along may ease some pressure. “Are you saying I drive slow?”
“I didn’t have to. You just did.”
She shook her head and smiled at him. For years, she’d kept Brice Sutton at a distance. It wasn’t even personal. She liked to keep her private life just that. But when her sixteen-year-old daughter, Olivia, was taken three months ago, her relationship with Brice took on a new dynamic. Sibling-like at best, cantankerous at worst, but he proved himself as someone she could rely on. Working with him on a crisis incident like this would be a new experience, as they’d never been paired up in that capacity before.
She pulled out her phone and texted a quick note to Olivia that she had been called to an incident. She’d be in class now, but she’d see it during break period. After hitting send and watching it go through, she muted her phone and put it in her pocket.
As she and Brice approached the street in front of the hospital, the incident took on more structure. Everyone in sight was with the MPD. She wondered if her boyfriend, Eric Birch, was here somewhere. He was a detective for the Criminal Investigation Division, but in cases like this all available manpower was called in to assist.
There were a few ERT BearCats around and officers in tactical gear loaded for war with their thick bulletproof vests and combat boots. Such a contrast to her and Brice. They wore vests too, but their primary weapons were their minds and the laptop in Brice’s messenger bag.
She spotted the mobile command vehicle just as two officers stepped in front of her and Brice. They both eyed the FBI logo embroidered on their vests.
“We’re looking for Lieutenant Kreiger,” she told them.
“You found him.” One of the officers pointed ahead of them at a man with a silver mustache standing next to the vehicle.
