Ransom River by Meg Gardiner Read Free Book Online Page A

news team’s footage provided the PD with a useful vantage point. The authorities needed to shut that news crew down. Letting it broadcast live was dangerous.
    Because Seth knew he was looking at Judge Wieland’s courtroom. And like all busy Superior Court judges with full dockets, Wieland was adept at juggling. He would lend his ears to the case being tried in front of him while he signed motions with one hand and checked his e-mail with the other. He had a big screen on his desk, and it was wired for speed.
    Anybody in that courtroom could watch the same TV broadcast Seth was looking at. If they did, they could stay one step ahead of the cops.

    Rory swallowed hard.
Hold it together.
Behind her in the courtroom, crying continued. At Judge Wieland’s desk, the phone rang and rang. But she couldn’t hear Wieland, didn’t know if he was still breathing, whether anybody was able to offer a human touch as he lay struggling. Reagan andNixon paced nearby, arguing in jittery undertones. Rory slowly, slowly turned her head so she could see them.
    “We got to do it, and now,” Reagan said.
    “No.”
    Nixon took a phone from his pocket. At first Rory thought he was checking the time, but he scrolled through a couple of buttons, as if he was looking for messages. With apparent frustration he put it away.
    “…just go, the two of us,” Reagan whispered. “We could…”
    Outside the window a helicopter lowered briefly into view. Engine noise droned through the room.
    Nixon tightened his grip on Reagan’s arm. “…losing proposition. We leave by ourselves, we die. No. The plan is the plan.”
    “Then what are we going to do? There’s…”
    From the hallway a new voice blared through the bullhorn.
    “This is Sergeant Ray Nguyen of the Ransom River Crisis Negotiation Response Team.”
    Hostage negotiator. Rory held her breath. Reagan flinched.
    And glanced at the doors. He muttered, “If we surrender—”
    “No.” Nixon shook him by the arm. “Do you not fucking understand the consequences? If we—Jesus Christ, surrender? Not just the payment we’d…”
    “I’m here to listen to you and to try to make sure everybody stays safe. So can you tell me please, who am I speaking to?”
    Reagan pulled his arm free. “I understand, you dick. If we don’t draw him out, we—”
    “Shut up,” Nixon said. “We stick to the plan or we lose.”
    Reagan barked a hard nonlaugh. “Plan? It’s already blown. Now what?”
    Nixon turned and crossed the courtroom. Rory couldn’t tell if he had a destination or simply wanted to get away from Reagan. And Reagan’s fear and Reagan’s questions.
    Outside in the late morning sun, police officers were positioned behind their vehicles. The news van had sidestepped the order to evacuate and taken up a position inside the parking garage. Down the street in the distance,an enormous vehicle rolled toward them. Some gigantic RV, painted in the white and blue colors of the Ransom River Police Department. It was a mobile command center. Maybe SWAT. Maybe a food truck with margaritas for the mall visitors. Jesus, would SWAT storm the courtroom? If they did, would they even know how many opponents they faced?
    Nixon’s voice came louder than she expected. “Hey, police.”
    Rory turned her head another couple of inches. Nixon stood back from the main doors about ten feet. Reagan hustled to his side.
    “What’s—”
    Nixon lifted a hand to silence him. He raised his voice. “Hey, cops.”
    The bullhorn answered. “This is Sergeant Nguyen. Who am I speaking to?”
    “The guy who’s gonna tell you what to do,” Nixon called out.
    After a pause, Nguyen continued calmly. “Okay. Can you tell me what’s happening in the courtroom? Does anyone need medical attention? Is everybody safe for now?”
    “Shut up.
Shut up.
”
    The air in the courtroom abruptly felt too warm. It smelled of aftershave and cordite and sweat.
    Quiet. After a second, when the bullhorn didn’t repeat its