Just before the elevator doors shut, Hubbard caught up to me and said, “The agency can’t suffer another humiliation, Ivy. We need to protect our image.”
I ignored her plea and thought about Miguel on my trip to the ground floor.
3
“Stay here, I’ll get an update from the negotiator. All right?” Stan flicked his fingers against my arm.
I wasn’t offended. Everyone who knew Stan understood he was a little over the top in every aspect of his life.
“I’ll be right here,” I said, standing behind the yellow tape that surrounded the hostage team’s negotiating base.
Stan gave me the nod, and then his right eye twitched just before he walked off. I’d seen that happen before. It had something to do with stress. A detective within the homicide unit, Stan was my police-department liaison. If something bad went down with one of our kids, Stan was usually right there beside me.
Behind a barricade of six police cars, more than a dozen uniformed cops milled about. I also spotted a Hostage Rescue Team bus and a SWAT van. The SAPD was fully prepared for any situation. People could die. Kids. And that made my heart ache.
A cold breeze blew a lock of my frizzy, shoulder-length hair into my face. With temperatures still hovering at forty degrees and my hands tucked into my armpits, I didn’t bother fixing my hair. It had seen worse days.
“Hey.”
I turned to see Joanna Silva pulling up next to me.
“This was your case originally, right?” I asked.
She pressed her lips together and nodded, keeping her gaze on the cops. She had a cold stare on her plump face, but I was used to it. Unlike most of my coworkers, Joanna didn’t seem to have much compassion in her fireplug body. She seemed bitter…toward the biological parents, the agencies involved, even the kids.
Standing on my tiptoes, adding a couple of inches to my five-six frame, I was able to take in the Gideon home, a modest, one-story, brick structure that was as cookie cutter as they came—brown shutters, a single tree on one side of the front yard, and a front-facing, two-car garage. A blue minivan, which I assumed belonged to the Gideons, was parked in the driveway.
I heard a whistle and looked over to the HRT bus. Stan had just stepped down onto the concrete and was walking our way and waving us over at the same time. I lifted the tape up, but a tall officer quickly appeared.
“Sorry, miss, this space is off limits.”
“They’re with me,” Stan called out.
The officer shrugged and lifted the tape. I was halfway there when I realized Joanna wasn’t moving with me.
“What are you waiting on?”
“I don’t want to get involved, Ivy,” she said, reluctantly shuffling in my direction. “This is now a job for the men and women who do the real dirty work.”
I ignored her excuse and practically pulled her over to Stan, who said, “Negotiator said that Matt Garza is on an emotional roller coaster. One minute he’s calm, talking about a future life with his kid and wife, and the next he’s crying and screaming, threatening to kill everyone because he knows he’ll never be able to get his family back together.”
A man wearing a SWAT jacket hopped out of the HRT bus and quickly rounded up three men and gave them instructions of some kind as they walked to the SWAT van.
“Is there something in the works?” I asked Stan. “Are you guys planning to raid the house?”
“Nothing is off the table at this point. We can’t let this nut job kill five people and then himself.”
“Something is about to go down?”
He raked his fingers through his hair, as thick and coarse as bear’s fur. “That’s not what I’m saying. We’re doing the best we can. The situation is fluid. We’re hoping that negotiations can end this before someone gets hurt.”
“So why did you call us over? Don’t you want to be in there, listening to your guy do his thing?” I pointed at the HRT bus.
“It’s a she. Theresa is the best negotiator we’ve got, but she’s not a social worker who knows Miguel and his family. We thought you ladies might be able to help calm the dad down some.”
I glanced at Joanna, who immediately threw up her hands. “No way I’m getting on a call with that man. I know what he’s capable of. He might slit my throat through the phone.”
I stuck a hand on my hip. “Really? You’re going to crawl into your hole and pretend this isn’t happening?”
She backed up a step. “I’m just sayin’…”
I could feel Stan’s eyes on us. He was probably baffled at this woman’s inability to step up when it mattered most. I know I was.
“I’ll do it. I’ll talk to him,” I said.
Joanna grabbed my arm. “No, Ivy. You barely know the guy.”
“I met him once. And I could feel his unease with life.”
“Ivy, you’re not equipped for this. This is much bigger than a kid being slapped around a little bit. That guy has a gun, and he might be high on meth.”
I paid no attention to her flippant attitude toward child abuse—the prevention of which was at the core of our jobs—and focused on her last statement. “I don’t recall reading or hearing that Matt Garza was on meth.”
She pursed her chubby lips.
“Joanna, what’s going on?”
She picked at her nails. “I saw it on my first in-home visit. He was smoking meth in the kitchen when I got there. He didn’t think I saw him toss his pipe out of the kitchen window, but I did. And he was beyond loopy.”
I turned to Stan. “So now we might have a meth-head to deal with.”
“Motherf—” He stopped short, biting his lower lip. “Okay, come with me, and let’s see how Theresa wants to play this.”
Two people were inside the bus: Theresa and a tech-head who ran the audio and video communications. She introduced him as Mino, and he stayed silent as the rest of us tried to figure out a peaceful end to the crisis.
After Stan explained our situation, Theresa looked directly at Joanna. “You know the dad the best of any of us, and the kid too, but you refuse to talk to the dad?” With shiny, brown hair that fell just below her shoulders and a flawless complexion, Theresa could have been a model in a different life. But right now, she looked decidedly pissed.
“I’m not really sure why I’m here.” Joanna shuffled in one place, but her wide hips kept bumping into chairs. It felt extra cramped inside the bus, and the thick-chested Stan just added to the sensation. I tried to believe I didn’t have issues with closed spaces.
“Look, it doesn’t matter that Joanna isn’t comfortable talking to Matt. I already said I’d do it.” I held out my hand for the headset and mic that Theresa was holding.
“Okay. He’s taking a leak right now, but he’ll be back in a minute. I’ll introduce you as one of the nice ladies who’s been caring for Miguel. If we’re lucky, maybe he’ll release him.”
“Wait,” I said. “Where’s Miguel’s mom? What’s her name?”
“Berta,” Joanna said.
“We have a unit out to pick her up, but…” Theresa locked eyes with Stan.
“What is it?”
“They can’t find her at work or home. The uniforms called her cell phone too, but no answer.”
“Call again. She could really help,” I said.
Stan jumped in. “Captain Herrera said they’ve called that number at least ten times in the last hour.”
“Trace her GPS signal.”
“Okay, okay, Ivy,” Stan said, touching my elbow. “We’re on it. Don’t worry. Let’s focus on what we can do right now while we search for Miguel’s mom.”
A moment later Theresa nodded at Mino. The line picked up, and all I could hear was distant yelling. The man’s voice was muffled, but it was obvious he was highly agitated.
I looked at Theresa, who nodded, and Stan pointed at my headset. I slid it on and realized the sound was being played on speakers in the bus. Theresa pointed for me to put the mic up to my face.
“Matt, hey, this is Theresa,” she said casually.
I heard in the background a woman yelling at Matt. I assumed it to be Mrs. Gideon. She was probably panicked with fright, for herself and the children in the house with this gun-toting dad who thought the world had done him wrong.
“Matt, can you hear me? I want to help you out,” Theresa said, still with amazing calm.
A ruffling noise through the receiver, then Matt’s voice came through loud and clear. “If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to make you eat my gun. Hear me, bitch?”
“Matt, Matt, everything okay?” Theresa asked.
A couple of ticks went by, and I held my breath, bracing for the worst—the sound of a gunshot.
“Yeah, I’m here. But I don’t know for how long,” he said.
“We’ve got all the time in the world, Matt. No worries.”
“Get back in your room, or—”
“Please, please, you must listen.” Mrs. Gideon again, this time closer to the phone. “The children all need food and water. And Tommy is sick.”
Matt screamed in frustration.
I glanced at Stan, who was shaking his head.
“Matt, hey, let me help you out,” Theresa said. “Food, drink. Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
“I’m hungry for pizza.”
“We can do that. What kind?”
“Thin crust, but loaded with everything, including anchovies.”
Stan started punching the order on his cell phone.
“And give me a two-liter bottle of orange pop. I like that stuff.”
“Will do. I know a great pizza place about three miles from here. My team will call it in,” she said.
“I’ll take it.”
“Do you want to ask Miguel if he’d like a special kind of pizza?” I asked.
Theresa held up a quick hand, shaking her head at me.
“Who is this?” Matt barked.
“I was just about to tell you,” Theresa said, giving me a glare, “that I’ve asked a lady named Ivy to join our conversation. She knows Miguel from CPS, and I thought it would be helpful for Miguel to hear a familiar voice, let him know that everything will be fine.”
A few seconds of silence.
“Matt, you want everything to be okay with Miguel, right?” Theresa prodded.
He let out a heavy sigh. I couldn’t help but jump in. “Matt, we’re talking about your son. You love him. He’s part of you.”
Another stern look from Theresa.
“Hmmm. I guess it’s okay to talk to him. He’s just sitting over in the corner with his knees up against his chest and staring at nothing really. Not saying much.”
Matt’s intensity had dropped a couple of notches, but I worried that Miguel was in a state of shock.
“Hey, Miguel,” Matt said. “Got a lady here on the phone who says she knows you. Wanna talk to her?”
I couldn’t hear a response.
“Miguel, do you hear me? Answer your father,” he said.
A meek voice responded, but I couldn’t detect the words spoken.
“You’re mumbling. Real men don’t mumble. Speak up, son.”
“I said I don’t want to talk.”
“He said he doesn’t want to talk to you,” Matt relayed, although we had heard Miguel’s comment.
“Can you just give him the phone?” I asked.
Another pause, and I hoped like hell I wasn’t making him angrier.
“She asked if you want your own pizza. What’s your favorite?”
Matt didn’t know his own son’s favorite pizza? Not surprising really. My experiences had shown that some parents were so distraught over their own dramas that they ignored the needs and desires of their own flesh and blood.
“Pepperoni,” he said.
“You tell her.”
“Hi, I want pepperoni pizza please,” the young boy said into the phone.
Stan nodded, pecking away at his phone.
“Great, Miguel. We’ll order that and have it to you and your dad in a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.”
He still had his manners. Amazing.
Just then, the van door swung open. It was the SWAT officer I’d seen earlier. He had a thin mustache and a toothpick hanging out of his mouth. But it was his menacing scowl that made it seem like he was prepared for a battle against evil..
I tried to ignore his ominous presence and focus on a little boy who needed my help.
“So let’s talk for a minute. I’m Ivy. Do you remember me from a few weeks ago?”
“Uh, yeah, only because you have a weird name. Oh, sorry. Momma would say that wasn’t nice.”
I chuckled. “That’s fine, Miguel. Ivy is a strange name. But you know, we all have something that is unique about us. I remember that you like toy trucks. Especially ones that have ladders on them.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to be a fireman when you grow up?”
“Maybe. It would be kind of cool, don’t you think?”
“Firemen are brave, and they help other people. You want to help other people?”
“I just want to climb the ladders and put out fires.” He paused for a second. “Dad, where’s Momma?”
Silence for more than a second, which led to quick looks around the van, SWAT man included. Joanna avoided eye contact and picked at her nails.
“Momma isn’t coming home, Miguel. She’s gone to a better place, son.”
Miguel started to cry, and I could feel Joanna’s heavy hand on my shoulder. I felt my heart sink. Theresa made a signal to Mino.
“Are we on mute?” Stan asked in a low voice. Theresa nodded, and he continued. “Sounds like Matt might have done something to his wife. We need more resources on this. I’m going to step out, talk to the captain. Meanwhile, see if you can get more information out of him.”
Theresa huffed out a breath. “I know you need it, Stan, but we’re trying to keep people from dying in that house. We’ll do the best we can.”
“Big boys don’t cry, Miguel,” Matt said over the speakers.
“But I want Momma. Where is she?” he said through sobs.
A growl. “Just shut the hell up, okay? Daddy’s got a lot of pressure. Don’t add to it, do you hear me?”
“Yes sir.”
Stan exited the van, leaving the door cracked. SWAT man licked his lips, as if he wanted to offer an opinion, but Theresa raised a hand: not now.
“Speak up, Miguel. I didn’t raise a pussy for a son, did I?”
“No.”
“And what the hell do you want?” Matt shouted.
“My son…he needs help,” Mrs. Gideon pleaded. “He’s hypoglycemic. He’s starting to sweat profusely, and he’s got blurred vision..”
“Fuck. I’m sick of dealing with you and this whole fucking thing. I should just put a bullet in your head—all of your heads—and be done with it. Do you hear me?”
“Oh, please no. I beg of you. Please.”
More yelling and muffled noises and then a thud, as if someone had been pushed into a wall.
“Matt, Matt, please calm down,” Theresa said, just as Stan stepped back inside the van.
“This bitch thinks I’m a hotel and a doctor’s office. Leave me the fuck alone.”
I could hear Mrs. Gideon whimper.
“Matt, this isn’t a big deal. Just ask her where the medicine is, and let her give her son the medicine he needs.”
Matt said to Mrs. Gideon, “This cop says you can just give it to him yourself. Where is it?”
“We ran out of glucose tablets. I just need to get to a pharmacy.”
“Dammit, everything’s a problem. It doesn’t even matter. We’re all going straight to hell. Why not just start right now?”
Screams from over the phone.
“No, Matt,” Theresa yelled out, and I couldn’t help but gasp.
For the next few seconds, it was nothing more than chaos. Yelling, crying, cursing, while Theresa and I tried
to intercede, to bring calm to the situation, or even a brief pause.
SWAT man pulled Stan over to the side and started doing a lot of pointing, at us and at Stan. I began to wonder if a raid on the house might be our only hope to save at least a few lives.
Stan stepped over and held up his phone inches from my face. I then blurted out the message, “Pizza and soda pop are here.”
4
As if calming pixie dust had just been released into the air, Matt finally shut his trap. After a moment, he repeated the information to Miguel and Mrs. Gideon. “Pizza is here.” He sounded exhausted.
“Matt, this is Theresa,” she said. “We’re going to have an officer put the pizza and soda by the front door. Please let Mrs. Gideon give her son the soda. That will help with his issue.”
“I guess I can do that,” he said.
A few seconds of silence as we each took in a lungful of air.
“How do I know you guys haven’t put some sleeping medicine into the pizza?”
It was as if his brain only worked in short surges, and when it was on all the way, it was paranoid as hell. Another sign he might be a meth-head.
“Let the kids have the first slices of pizza. Start with Miguel and let him have a piece of pepperoni,” I suggested.
“You hungry, son?”
“I don’t know. I’m just real tired,” Miguel said with little energy.
The boy was emotionally spent. Everyone was, but the man with the gun held all the cards—all the lives—in his hands.
“Tommy and Monique will eat it,” Mrs. Gideon said in the background.
“Okay, let me get the pizza in,” he said. I could hear shoes walking across a hard surface. “Wait…they might have snipers outside ready to take me out.”
I quickly turned to see SWAT man shrugging his shoulders.
“You go out and get it,” Matt said.
“Sure. I’ll get it,” Mrs. Gideon said.
“Just remember, if you make a run for it, I have your kids. I’ll shoot them if you take off on me.”
She waited a second and then said. “I won’t run. I only want my family to be safe. To stay alive.”
We heard a door pull open, and then Mino pointed at a screen above his head. It was a picture of the front of the Gideon house. We could see Mrs. Gideon, dressed in gray sweats and socks, step outside, pick up the pizza and pop, and then quickly slide back in. Just as the door was closing, Matt pulled his arm around her, and we caught a glimpse of his gun.
The Ivy Nash Thrillers: Books 1-3: Redemption Thriller Series 7-9 (Redemption Thriller Series Box Set) Page 2
