High Noon by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

who had this train of thought over a jumper who was about twelve feet off the ground, unarmed. Mostly being a nuisance, from my acquaintance’s point of view, one that was keeping him from doing more important things with his valuable time. And he allowed that opinion to show. The subject jumped, headfirst, crushing his skull on the sidewalk. He was very dead, Officer Meeks.
    â€œAnybody know why this nuisance ended up with a toe tag?”
    â€œNegotiator screwed it up,” someone called out.
    â€œThat’s right. The negotiator screwed it up by forgetting the prime directive: Preserve human life.
    â€œIf you have any more questions or comments about the incident, please feel free to write them up for me. But for right now? We’re moving on.”
    â€œI’d like to—”
    â€œOfficer.” The temper Phoebe rarely set free strained on the leash. “You may be mistaken about who is running this session. I am. You may also be confused about the order of rank here. I am your superior.”
    â€œIt seems to me, ma’am, that you don’t want to address your questionable decisions during a crisis negotiation.”
    â€œIt seems to me, boy, that you are unable to take no for an answer, by a woman who happens to outrank you, and that you’re both rigid in your thinking and argumentative in attitude. These are very, very poor qualities in a negotiator. I’ll so note to your captain, and hope that we’ll be relieved of each other before much longer. Now, I want you to close your mouth and open your ears. That’s an order, Officer Meeks. If you choose to ignore it, I’ll write you up for insubordination here and now. Clear?”
    His face had gone an angry red, and his eyes spoke furious volumes. But he nodded curtly.
    â€œThat’s fine. Now, tactics, teamwork and the negotiator’s role.”
    Â 
    The minute the session was over, Phoebe headed straight for the women’s room. She didn’t beat her head against the wall, though she considered it. Instead, she turned to the mirror, gripped the sink below it.
    â€œArnold Meeks has a dick the size and width of a baby carrot, and his smirky, insulting, juvenile behavior is a pathetic attempt to compensate for his pinkie-sized weenie.”
    She nodded, relaxed her shoulders. Then dropped her head when she heard a toilet flush. How stupid could she be to mouth off to the mirror without checking the stalls first?
    Phoebe knew the woman who stepped out, but that didn’t negate the mortification. Detective Liz Alberta was a solid cop, a strong-willed brunette who worked in sex crimes.
    â€œLieutenant.”
    â€œDetective.”
    Liz ran water in the sink, turned her own face right and left as if checking her reflection. “Arnie Meeks is a fuckhead,” she said casually.
    â€œOh.” Phoebe sighed. “Well.”
    â€œHe tells tits-and-ass jokes in the break room. I like a good joke same as the rest, and boys will be boys and all that. But I took some exception, and made my exception known after he told me the majority of rapes are bogus, pulling out the old chestnut about how a woman can run faster with her skirt up than a man can with his pants down.”
    â€œThe fuckhead said that?”
    â€œOh yes, he did. And I filed a complaint on him. He isn’t a fan of mine.” Liz fluffed at her short, dark hair. “And I dislike him right down to the tip of that teeny weenie of his.” She offered a sunny smile as she dried her hands. “Lieutenant.”
    â€œDetective,” Phoebe returned as Liz tossed the paper towel into the bin and strolled out.
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    She didn’t like it, but she went to Dave. As was her habit, she jogged up the two flights of stairs from the lecture area to her own section. He was striding out of his office, swinging on his jacket as she popped out the stairway door.
    â€œOh, you’re heading out.”
    â€œI’ve got a