Page 94 of Every Last One
Mindy was staring at Megan Beal, while still holding her gun up. Her arms were shaking, though.
Blood was pouring out of the CEO’s side, and her eyes were glassy. She pushed her hand to her wound, and blood seeped between her fingers.
Sandra motioned for everyone to move to the opposite end of the room near the door, and they complied. Mindy didn’t seem to notice. Sandra then waved for them to go into the hall. One by one they started filtering out.
“I can’t believe you shot me,” Beal said, her voice small.
“You… you brought this on yourself.” Mindy was quaking, and it appeared that holding the gun up was becoming a more difficult challenge by the second.
Someone bumped into the doorframe on the way out, and the sound had Mindy turning.
“Stop right there!” she roared. “Shut that door, and get back in here.”
Four hostages returned into the room. Pamela shut the door.
“Please, Mindy,” Sandra petitioned. “Stop this. Please surrender. The hospital has their money. Your husband’s future is secured.”
Mindy turned around. “You lie. You will take that money back.”
“Take it back? It’s cash.” Sandra had worked on becoming a convincing liar for the job. In truth, once Mindy was secured, the money would be returned to the FBI.
Mindy came toward Sandra. What neither of them counted on was Pamela wedging in there and kicking out her leg. She hooked her foot around Mindy’s ankle, causing Mindy to trip and lurch forward.
Sandra rushed out of the way, ducking under the conference table. All she could envision was the gun going off, missing her vest, and hitting her in the head. Maybe it was time to accept that Mindy had no plans of surrendering. But one more try. She rose to her feet with her arms in the air. Mindy had gotten herself up. They were face to face, only a table between them.
“Please, Mindy. Let’s end this,” Sandra petitioned.
Mindy’s eyes narrowed. In that moment, Sandra saw what she had refused to accept. Mindy was a sick woman without hope. The money wasn’t going to solve her deeper issue. She couldn’t face another fight against cancer.
“I can understand why you might feel there’s no hope,” Sandra said, slicing into the stretched silence. “Cancer’s a killer. But you survived it once. You can do it again.”
Mindy’s face softened, just a fraction, and her mouth twitched. “Nah. I just don’t have it in me.” She raised her gun to her head.
“No,” Sandra said. “Don’t do that. Not to Dylan. It will destroy him.”
Tears were falling down Mindy’s face. “I just don’t have the strength to…” She sobbed.
“I will stand by you, Mindy. Please just hand me your gun and surrender peacefully.” Sandra spotted Pamela moving and shook her head.
“Come on, Mindy, I’m here for you,” Sandra said. “You said that you trust me. Here’s your chance to prove it.”
“Okay.”
Sandra slowly walked around to Mindy. They were standing mere feet apart when Mindy extended her gun to Sandra.
“Actually, please set it on the tab?—”
The next few seconds moved in slow motion.
There was a deafening crack as the glass in the conference window shattered.
But Mindy didn’t have a split second to react. Her blood and brain matter splattered across Sandra’s face, clung to her eyelashes, and some went into her mouth.
The gun in Mindy’s hand dropped to the floor.
Mindy crumpled down beside it, a lifeless puppet.
Pamela was crying, and Megan Beal was staring wide-eyed toward the window. Pamela had opened the blinds, allowing ERT a line of sight.
