The Negotiation

by Tyler Anne Snell

  Rachel had waited to see what happened next with bated breath until the man had laid it on the table. The bottom line.

  Tucker was to bring him Lonnie or he would kill Tucker.

  Rachel had shared a look with the boy after the violent directive.

  Then she’d had to act fast.

  Lonnie was going to give himself up.

  Rachel had less than a second to meet the boy in the middle, throw one arm around him and cover his mouth with her hand. It was a plan that wasn’t without mistakes. The awkward height difference between them pulled Rachel off balance. They hit the floor hard.

  The men downstairs quieted.

  Lonnie squirmed, but Rachel kept both grips tight.

  The mystery man started to talk again, but Rachel couldn’t concentrate on it.

  “You’re not going down there,” she whispered in Lonnie’s ear.

  She needed to get them out of the open. If either Tucker or the man walked up the stairs, there wasn’t a hope in the world that they wouldn’t see them.

  But then Dane joined the fray, sounding like the lawman he was. Together Rachel and Lonnie stopped fighting each other to listen.

  Rachel’s stomach went straight to the floor when another voice entered the conversation. The man in overalls.

  “We’re going to go hide,” Rachel directed, careful to keep her voice as low as possible. “Okay?”

  Lonnie nodded. Rachel wasn’t about to roll the dice, though. She lowered her hand but kept her arm around him. Together they stood slowly and crept backward. She didn’t realize she was still holding on to him until they were in his room.

  “They’re going to kill him if I don’t go down there,” Lonnie whispered. Rachel spun with her finger to her lips. “But—”

  “You listen to me, Lonnie Hughes,” she hissed. “I would die before letting those men get their hands on you, so you better—”

  A yell from downstairs was swiftly followed by the sounds of a heated scuffle. Then a gunshot rattled the inside of the house. Rachel’s heart squeezed with worry over Dane, but she knew he could handle himself better than Lonnie could if three men came upstairs after him.

  Rachel shut the bedroom door and threw the lock. She turned around, surveying the room with new attention. The closet door was already open, but it was small. The window over his bed overlooked a small roof overhang, but with nowhere to go and if anyone was left in the Lincoln, they would have an unobstructed view of whoever went out there. The only place left was the bed. It would have to do.

  “I want you to get under that bed,” she said, bending to make sure he could fit. “And I don’t want you to make a sound, okay? No matter what.”

  More yelling from downstairs seemed to convince Lonnie to listen to her. He dropped to the floor and wiggled underneath the bed. Rachel grabbed the blanket and stuffed it under, too, running it along his legs.

  “Here, put this in your pocket.” Rachel pulled out her phone and slid it to him. “If we get separated for whatever reason, you call 9-1-1 when you’re alone.”

  Rachel pushed the blanket the rest of the way under. She grabbed the sheet and pulled it half off, draping some of it over the edge of the frame. She hoped it looked like a kid’s messy bed and that said kid was not hiding beneath it.

  Another gunshot went off, followed swiftly by footsteps thundering up the stairs. Rachel whirled around, heart in her throat and adrenaline flooding her system. She had nothing to protect herself and nothing to protect Lonnie, either. If someone who wasn’t Dane came through the door, she didn’t like the odds.

  So she made another split-second decision as she had the day before.

  She jumped on top of the bed and fumbled with the window latch. Maybe she could recreate what she had done in the gym. Redirect their attention to stall for Dane and the backup she only assumed he had called. Though she knew she couldn’t hide inside the room, the roof outside the window was flat enough that she could walk across it without falling.

  At least, she hoped.

  The doorknob started to rattle behind her.

  “Hey, kid, open up!”

  If her stomach wasn’t already on the floor, it would have dropped to it. The voice wasn’t Dane’s. It wasn’t Tucker’s, either. Her fingers slipped, but she managed to unlock the window. The door behind her shook violently.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Rachel said, hoping Lonnie could hear her. The dull ache in her hand became more pronounced as she placed both palms on the pane of glass and pushed up. Thankfully, the window slid up easily enough.

  However, before she could use that in any way, a loud crack made her turn. She watched the old door split in two like it was made out of nothing but cardboard. Dark eyes met hers. They widened in surprise. The sandy-haired man hadn’t expected to see her—that was for sure.

  “You,” he breathed. He huffed as he moved some of the splintered wood out of his way. He had blood on one of his hands. Too much of it.

  Rachel didn’t need to see any more.

  She turned and scrambled out the window like it was an Olympic sport and she really wanted a medal. The man yelled out at her, but she wasn’t about to stop and listen. She crawled far enough away that he couldn’t grab her unless he came out onto the overhang with her. If there was someone in the car and they were armed, all they had to do was get out and shoot her. Like fish in a barrel. Rachel didn’t care. She just needed to distract the man. She needed him to follow her.

  And follow her he did.

  He just also changed her plan, or at least the gun he held up did. “I will shoot you in the head if you take even one more step.”

  Rachel held her hands up but stayed on her knees.

  “Don’t shoot,” she pleaded. “I’m unarmed.”

  The man didn’t flinch.

  “Where’s the kid?” he seethed, no smiles like he had worn the day before. He was hurting. Rachel hoped the blood on his hand was his.

  “At the sheriff’s department,” she lied. “A deputy took him there a few minutes ago.”

  The man’s nostrils flared. He was starting to fume. “You’re lying.”

  “No, I’m not,” she countered, rallying what she hoped was a sincere expression. She stuck as close to the truth as she could to make it easier to bluff. “We came to check on him and realized his uncle left him in the middle of the night. So we sent him off to the department until we could figure out where Tucker went and why. I was just closing up the house when you all showed up, so I hid.”

  Rachel had taken an acting class in college as an elective. It had been torture once she’d realized how bad at it she truly was. The unending scowl from her professor still haunted some of her stress dreams to this day. He’d always complained that her performances felt fabricated, like she was reading straight from a script. One time, much to her horror, he’d even told her in front of the entire class that watching her perform was like watching her recite a grocery list. One that didn’t even have anything exciting written on it.

  She’d once told David about that class, still experiencing mild embarrassment when a random memory sprang up from it. He’d laughed quite a bit before backing down enough to realize her feelings were hurt. Then he’d done what David had always done best and made light of the situation.

  “It’s because you don’t like to lie,” he had said. “So much so that I bet that’s why you get all stiff when you’re trying to be someone you’re not or when you’re trying to say something you don’t mean. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I’ll tell you what. I’m pretty proud of you for being terrible at it.”

  Rachel knew that what he said wasn’t true—there were plenty of good people in the world who acted and didn’t like lying—but it had made her feel better. She’d even started to be proud of the fact that she couldn’t act her way out of a paper bag if she had tried. However, n
ow she hoped beyond all hope that David’s assessment didn’t hold. Not today. Not when the man in front of her was so close to Lonnie’s hiding place.

  “If you don’t believe me, call the department and ask,” she added. “Tell them you’re Tucker.”

  Rachel felt like she sounded confident. She just hoped he heard it, too. He was gritting his teeth hard. She could see the muscles in his jaw moving. A car honked in the distance. Dogs were barking a street or two over. What must have been only seconds stretched into what felt like minutes.

  Within that time Rachel knew no matter what the man decided—to believe her or not to believe her—the outcome wouldn’t be a good one. If she couldn’t give him Lonnie, she was useless. If she could give him Lonnie, she would become useless right after he had the boy.

  Either way, she realized there was a good chance she would die out on Tucker Hughes’s roof. The thought should have scared her. Heck, it should have terrified her. Yet the fear that she felt around her heart wasn’t for her.

  It was for the kid who was hard to like but loved drawing comics.

  It was for the captain who had answered her call without hesitation.

  The man finally opened his mouth. Words filled with venom poured out. “We would have had him already if it wasn’t for you.”

  Thinking he had been the cool one between him and the man with overalls the day before, Rachel changed her mind. He looked like a powder keg in the process of igniting. One who had pinpointed her as someone who needed to explode along with him. “This was supposed to be easy,” he said with the shake of his gun. Rachel flinched. He didn’t miss it. A smile broke through his anger. It sent a chill up her spine.

  “You know, he might have been the endgame, but grabbing you was supposed to be a bonus if we could swing it. I think I’m going to go ahead and make an executive decision for the group.” He readjusted his aim a few inches upward. Directly at Rachel’s head. “This time we just couldn’t swing it.”

  Rachel turned her head away. She squeezed her eyes shut. I hope you’re okay, Dane.

  A gunshot tore through the morning air.

  Rachel waited for the impact, the burn. The end to a life that was filled with the good, the bad, triumphs and regrets. A life ended by something that made no sense out on Tucker Hughes’s roof.

  All she felt was something warm against her cheek and then a small thud that vibrated through the knees of her jeans.

  She opened her eyes.

  Then she was looking at Dane.

  Chapter Nine

  “Rachel, I need you to keep looking at me.” Dane holstered his gun as best he could while hunched over. “Don’t look at him. Just look at me.”

  The “him” he was referring to was lying dead between them. Dane knew that without checking his pulse because he’d shot him in the head. It didn’t matter if he could have helped them know more about what was going on. Hell, it wouldn’t have mattered what he’d known, because the moment he’d aimed at Rachel’s head was the moment Dane knew he wasn’t taking any chances.

  Not again.

  Not with her.

  Rachel listened. At least, only partially. She got to her feet but glanced at the man. Her face paled.

  “Rachel Mary Roberts, you look at me and nothing else,” he barked. It was a little too harsh, but it did the trick. Her blue eyes swung to him and him only. He reached out toward her through the window. “Just move a little to the right and then you’re with me.”

  Rachel nodded and followed direction. Her hands were warm as they slid into his. Dane took it slow as he pulled her inside. Her eyes were wide. There was blood across her cheek. Dane knew it wasn’t hers.

  “Where’s the other man?” she managed to ask. It came out with a waver. “Where’s Tucker?”

  “Tucker is downstairs. He’s hurt but alive.” Dane didn’t like the next words he had to say. “The other man got a lead on me and ran off. I would have chased but...” He let his sentence trail off. He didn’t have to spell it out. “Where’s Lonnie?”

  It was like someone had put ice down the back of her shirt. Rachel’s spine zipped straight and she turned toward the bed. “Lonnie, you okay?”

  The sheet hanging over the side shifted and then a blanket came out with it. Rachel knelt to help him wiggle his way out.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, focusing on Rachel. “You’re bloody.”

  Rachel started to touch her face, but Dane grabbed her wrist. “She’s not hurt,” he said. “But why don’t we go to the bathroom and help her out?”

  They both looked confused but let him lead the way. Fear was a powerful thing. Even if you didn’t know what to fear, it had a way of making you move to avoid more of it. However, Rachel wasn’t about to let Lonnie see the body whose image was no doubt burned into her mind. Dane watched as she kept at Lonnie’s back. The last line of defense between him potentially losing a piece of his innocence.

  Lonnie took a seat on the lip of the tub while Dane guided Rachel to the sink. She started to turn toward the mirror. Once again Dane stopped her. Their eyes met. She was close enough that he could see the few freckles across her nose. He’d never noticed them before.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m assuming backup is on the way?”

  Dane took the hand towel off the wall. He turned the faucet on and dipped it underneath. “Yeah, I called in the cavalry when Tucker showed up. I’m surprised we aren’t hearing sirens yet.”

  Lonnie stood. Dane held his hand out in a stop motion.

  “You need to stay up here for now,” he warned.

  The boy’s expression hardened. “You said my uncle was hurt downstairs!”

  “He is, but help is coming. What you need to do now is stay in here with Ms. Roberts and make sure she’s all right.”

  Dane hoped Rachel was reading him. He didn’t want Lonnie downstairs. He didn’t want him to see Tucker. The blood on her cheek was nothing compared to what had gone down on the first floor.

  “I sure would like the company, Lonnie,” she said after a moment.

  Lonnie didn’t say anything but he sat back down. Dane turned to Rachel. She was searching his face. He tried to smile. He really did. But the contrast of the man’s blood against her skin wouldn’t let him. He almost hadn’t made it in time to save her.

  Dane took the towel and brushed it across her cheek. She didn’t look at him. He didn’t meet her eyes. Silence settled in the room. Dane continued to run the towel over her skin. Then, when he was almost done, their eyes met. He was so close he could almost feel the coolness from them. Two pools of the most crystal-blue water you ever did see.

  The same water he’d known for years and yet not.

  They were different.

  The freckles were different.

  And that was when Dane realized that something felt different. Past the adrenaline, past the excitement of trying to survive an attack, there was something that had happened within him. Getting a phone call from Rachel in trouble had been one thing, but seeing her on her knees, hands up in the air, ready to take a madman’s bullet?

  There it was again. Burrowed into Dane’s chest.

  Something had shifted.

  Something had changed.

  It prompted a truth from him. One that was more than just about that day.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t show up sooner.”

  It was simple and honest. The way Dane tried to live his life. He should have reached out to Rachel years ago. Hell, he should never have left in the first place. Being out of touch had caused a rift between them.

  Dane had never noticed her freckles before.

  And that bothered him now.

  “You saved me,” she said. She glanced at Lonnie. “You saved us. That’s not for nothing.” A small smile tugged at her lips. Dane tried to return it.

  What was he doing?


  What was he hoping for?

  They were in an active crime scene, Tucker was hurt downstairs, one of their attackers was on the loose, Dane’s phone had been smashed in the tussle and was of no use to them, and backup still wasn’t there. And yet there he was, thinking about Rachel Roberts’s freckles.

  Dane cleared his throat.

  “There we go,” he said, tossing the towel in the sink. “You still might want to wash your face, but the bad part is gone.”

  “Well, what about your blood?” Lonnie chipped in. He pointed to Dane’s right side. Dane didn’t bother looking.

  “You’re bleeding?” Rachel asked, worry lacing through each syllable.

  “It’s fine,” he assured her.

  “I can see it,” Lonnie continued. “Your shirt has a cut in it.”

  Rachel reached out but Dane was quicker. He put distance between them by stepping out the door.

  “It’s nothing,” he repeated. “Just a little thing.”

  “But—”

  Dane shook his head. “I’m going to go back downstairs to be with Tucker. You two stay here until I come back. Okay?” He gave Rachel another one of those looks he hoped said more than he could out loud. “Okay, Rachel?”

  There were those eyes searching him again.

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  If Dane had had Sheriff Reed’s cowboy hat on, he would have tipped it to her. “Yes, ma’am.”

  * * *

  “SON OF A—”

  Dane took in a deep breath.

  “Don’t be such a baby, Captain.” The nurse gave the man a scowl that would put hardened criminals he’d seen to shame. “I just disinfected the thing. Not performed some kind of surgery. I didn’t even put you in a room.”

  “I think you’re lying, Nurse Bean,” he said. “But I guess I’ll let it slide. You are on your break, after all.”

  Nurse Bean rolled her eyes. As best friend to Detective Walker’s wife and friend of the department’s as a whole, the nurse had seen her fair share of them in her emergency room. Which meant she was more than comfortable giving any of them flack when they deserved it. Dane didn’t think he did, but he wasn’t about to back-talk a woman who might change her mind about him needing stitches.