The Negotiator

by Chris Taylor

  Andy grimaced and nodded his thanks to his work partner and friend. He was beyond words.

  He’d done it. He’d saved Tucker.

  * * *

  Three hours later, Andy leaned against his comfortable, ergonomically approved office chair and put his feet up on his cluttered desk, trying hard not to relive his afternoon. Loose papers and pens scattered beneath his heavy police boots, but he was so tired he was beyond caring. His body ached in every place he could think of and even some that he couldn’t.

  The time he’d spent on the ledge with Tucker had drained him, physically and mentally. He loved the job, but the aftermath always took its toll.

  “Are you still here, Andy?” Detective Superintendent Patrick Redding strode into the main squad room where Andy’s desk stood amongst a half dozen identical ones, cluttered with unfinished paperwork.

  Andy lifted his chin and wearily looked at his boss. “Yeah, I was just finishing up the report on Wayne Tucker.”

  “Good work on that one today. Tom told me it was touch and go there for a while.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly and shook his head. “I thought he was going to jump. I couldn’t seem to get through to him. But I kept at it—what else could I do? I don’t know what changed, but for some reason he started to listen to me, really listen.” He shrugged. “I caught a lucky break.”

  “More than luck, Andy. You’re a damned good negotiator.” Redding indicated the open file on Andy’s desk, and continued, “They’re the lucky ones. All of those unstable souls out there like Tucker who had your help when they needed it most… If it weren’t for you, there’d be a lot more of them rotting in the ground right now.”

  “Thank you, sir, I appreciate your vote of confidence.” He shrugged self-consciously. “I do my best. It’s all I can do.” His voice lowered. “It’s the ones I might not save who keep me up at night.”

  Redding frowned. The deep wrinkles lining his forehead became more prominent. “Now, you listen to me, Andy Warwick. You might have only a year’s experience behind you, but you’re a good police officer and one of the best negotiators I’ve worked with. It’s a shame we didn’t have a few more of your ilk working here. Our success rate might be a little higher and that would please all concerned.”

  He stepped closer and gripped Andy’s shoulder. “It’s normal for you to get down on yourself when you don’t succeed—especially in your position where failure can mean death. But don’t ever doubt yourself or your abilities. You’re one of our finest, Andy. Don’t forget it. Besides,” he added, “you haven’t lost one yet, so stop stressing about it.”

  Andy fought back the lump of emotion that lodged in his throat and lifted grateful eyes toward his boss. “Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me.”

  “I meant every word of it.” Redding’s voice was gruff. The beard-roughened skin of his cheeks turned pink. Collecting his briefcase from where it sat at his feet, he headed for the exit. “Don’t stay too late, will you?” he called over his shoulder. He opened the door and disappeared.

  Andy was momentarily distracted by the sound of a vacuum cleaner from one of the other rooms. He glanced at his watch. Nearly eight. The night had folded in around him, unnoticed until now.

  The noise moved closer. His pulse rate accelerated. He took deep breaths and did his best to avoid the impending panic attack. No one had ever told him why the sound of the vacuum cleaner had always annoyed his father. He could remember how his mother would rush from work to collect him and his little sister from school and then race home to get the vacuuming done before his father arrived.

  Occasionally, she’d run late and his father arrived home before it was finished. She wouldn’t hear him come in over the noise. Moments after his arrival, he’d knock her flying with a heavy fist.

  Andy’s gut tensed. To his relief, the noise stopped. A few minutes later, the door to the squad room opened.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there was anyone still here. Do you mind if I do some cleaning?”

  Andy looked into a pair of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. His dark memories vanished with a jolt. He tried to process the vision in front of him.

  Was he dreaming? He was bone tired after standing for hours in the hot sun with Wayne Tucker—perhaps he was delusional. Surely she couldn’t be real? Her skin was too lustrous, her hair too blond, her eyes too luminous for her to be a flesh-and-blood woman.

  He must have fallen asleep. It was the only explanation. Grinning ruefully, he leaned back further in his chair and once again made himself comfortable. If this were a dream, he intended to enjoy it for as long as he could.

  With his eyes closed, he willed the vision of the woman to reappear. His body stirred. It had been more than a fortnight since he’d slept with Nikki. Now that he’d broken up with her, sex was not in his immediate future.

  He’d never been the type to indulge in meaningless sex with girls who were virtual strangers. The few encounters he’d had were within semi-committed relationships, something his best mate, Will, had found impossible to understand—until he’d met his wife, Savannah. Will now marveled at how he’d sustained such meaningless relationships and actually thought they were a good thing. Lately, he’d even taken to urging Andy to find a nice girl and settle down.

  “Uh, excuse me, are you all right?” The soft voice was hesitant.

  He opened a single eye and stared at the angel of his dreams. She took a step backwards in surprise and then spoke again.

  “I-I’m sorry, but I need to clean in here. Are you all right?”

  Both his eyes snapped open. The chair came down hard. His feet hit the floor. She stood before him in a sleeveless summer dress that ended just above her knees. It was the same color as her eyes, with big white flowers splashed all over it. She held a cloth in one hand and a bucket in the other. He suddenly noticed the long green rubber gloves on her hands.

  So, she wasn’t an angel. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination, either. She was the cleaner. And she was talking to him. Again.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted you, but I really need to get this finished. My son—”

  “No, no. Of course, of course,” he mumbled. He stood and pushed his seat away from his desk.

  “I’ll try to be as quick as I can, but I need to wipe down the desktops and…” She stopped. Her gaze skimmed over the desks, most of them completely covered in paperwork, reference books, charge sheets and other paraphernalia. “That is, the ones I can get to, anyway.” She gave him a tentative, nervous smile.

  “Um, sure… No problem.” He realized how stupid he appeared, staring at her as if he’d seen a ghost. With a sharp shake of his head, he started toward the locker room, intending to get his stuff and leave. He’d only taken a few paces when the phone on his desk rang.

  Knowing she’d also heard it, he stopped. He turned and sat down in his recently vacated chair then picked up the receiver.

  “Andy Warwick.”

  “Hey, mate, I was beginning to worry about you. I’ve been trying you on your cell phone all afternoon and I kept getting your voice mail. What are you up to?”

  “Will.” He smiled, relieved it wasn’t another emergency. Even though he was officially off duty, if extra hands were needed, everyone received the call, no matter what the hour.

  “I’m surprised you’re still at the office.”

  “Yeah, I was just finishing a report on a job I caught today.”

  “I saw it on the news. I thought you might have been involved. How’d it go? They said you stopped the bloke from jumping.”

  Andy sighed. The memory of the relief and exhilaration he’d felt when Wayne Tucker climbed back through the window flooded through him again. His voice was filled with quiet pride. “Yeah, I did.”

  He relaxed back in his chair. The cleaning woman had moved to the far side of the room. Lifting potted plants that had seen better days, she wiped away the dirt where it had fallen ont
o the gray, laminated countertops.

  “So what’s with your cell?”

  “Oh, I um, turned it off and left it in my locker when I was called to the job. I haven’t had a chance to get it.”

  “Yeah, well, I just wanted to see how you were going.” A beat passed. “Savannah told me you’re going to break it off with Nikki.”

  Andy sighed wearily. “Yeah. I already did it last night, after the ball.”

  “Shit, Andy, not after the ball? She was having such a good time. Couldn’t you have waited a little longer? How did she take it?”

  “About as well as you’d expect and for your information, I’ve been trying to do it for the last fortnight. There just didn’t seem a proper time. I mean, is there ever a right time?”

  “You’re asking the wrong bloke, mate. I never went out with the same girl more than once or twice. Savannah was the first one I even wanted to spend more than a night or two with.”

  “Lucky for you she felt the same way.”

  “You can say that again. Although, I have to tell you, these pregnancy hormones have me running in circles. I’ve been putting up with it for eight months. One minute she can’t get enough of me and the next she’s screaming bloody murder if I get anywhere near her. Then there’s the gherkin fetish. I tell you, I’ll be pleased when it’s over and I can get my wife back again.”

  “So you’ve changed your mind about pushing me toward holy matrimony?” Andy smiled into the phone, watching the blond angel from the corner of his eye as she emptied wastepaper baskets that were under the desks. He could tell she was trying to do it quietly because he was on the phone. Her thoughtfulness intrigued him.

  “Of course not,” Will was saying. “You just haven’t found the right one yet. Don’t worry; we’ll find you someone.”

  “Just don’t go setting me up with one of your exes. Those stick insects you used to go for are so not my style.”

  Will chuckled. “Okay, okay. I’m only trying to do my duty as your best friend and find you a wife. I know you want one, even if you are being a bit picky.”

  Andy swiveled his chair so he could follow the woman’s progress around the room. She’d moved closer and was now using her cloth to swipe across Tom’s desk, one of the tidier of their team.

  “You’re right. I want a wife. I want kids. I want soccer matches. I want white picket fences. But I don’t want that with just anyone. I’m in it for the long haul. I want to be certain she’s the one, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. I am one wholly converted bachelor who thought there was no such thing as love at first sight.”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly my point. I might not have been raised with much love, but I know what it looks like. I can’t say I know what it feels like because I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been in love. Not the way you are with Savannah, anyway. But I haven’t given up hope. She’s out there somewhere.”

  He recalled the taxi driver’s words of wisdom. “A cabbie told me last night when the right one comes along, I’ll know her the instant I meet her.” He braced himself for Will’s burst of laughter.

  To his surprise, his friend remained silent. Will’s reply, when it came, was slow and thoughtful.

  “You know what, mate? He might be right. When I think about that first night I met Savannah—hell, I thought she was a prostitute. But there was something about her—I couldn’t get her out of my head. I reckon I probably did fall in love with her from the moment I saw her.” He laughed wryly. “I think your cabbie’s right on the money.”

  “Maybe he is,” Andy murmured. He watched with interest while the cleaner bent down to pick up another wastepaper basket. Her dress pulled tight across her shapely butt. His body hardened in response. She turned and moved toward him, oblivious to his lascivious thoughts.

  Eager to speak with her again, he brought an abrupt end to his phone conversation and replaced the receiver in its cradle just as she reached his desk.

  “You didn’t have to hang up.” Her vivid eyes darted away from his. Her hands clenched the top of the trash bag. “I would have been quiet, I assure you.”

  He extended his hand. “Andy Warwick. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  She shook it firmly and offered him a tentative smile. A pulse beat rapidly in her neck.

  “Cally Savage. Nice to meet you. And no, we haven’t met. I only started here this week.” She smiled again and he noticed how perfect her teeth were and how she was even more beautiful up close.

  Blood pounded in his ears and his palms turned sweaty. He felt like a teenager on his first date.

  Cally stared at the carpet; a slight frown creased her forehead.

  He searched frantically for something clever to say. She’s probably wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

  “So, have you been working here long?” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted them back. She’d just told him it was her first week. Now she really would think him a dolt. A wave of heat stole up his neck.

  He stood and turned away abruptly, covering his mouth with his hand and pretended to be caught up in a coughing fit.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, concern lining her voice.

  He forced himself to turn around, certain his face was now crimson. “Um, I just… Yeah, um, I’m fine. Thanks.”

  She stepped toward him and he instinctively backed away.

  “I’m fine, I really am. But thanks, anyway,” he repeated.

  “Are you sure? “You look a bit…flushed.”

  The door to the squad room opened, saving him from replying. A young boy walked in.

  “Are you nearly finished, Mom?”

  Surprise replaced Andy’s embarrassment. Good looking boy. He watched the lad walk slowly toward them, curiosity illuminating his dark eyes.

  Cally also seemed relieved to see her son. “Jack, honey—this is Andy Warwick. A police officer, right?” She turned to face him.

  “Negotiator, actually, but close enough.” He grinned, relieved to discover his heart had slowed enough for him to think rationally again.

  “Cool.” Jack nodded approvingly. “What does that mean?”

  Andy laughed, appreciating the boy’s forthrightness. “It means I try to help people who are very sad by convincing them things are not as bad in their life or in the world as they may think.”

  Jack came to stand beside him, his face filled with inquisitiveness. “How do you do that?”

  “Well, it depends on the situation a little bit, buddy, but I talk to them about things that are important to them and try to get them to remember the good things in their lives.”

  “Sounds pretty cool. How come you’re so tall?” Jack strained to look up at him.

  Andy laughed. “I don’t know; I just am. My dad was pretty tall, so I guess that’s where I get it from.”

  Jack smiled back at him. “I think my dad was tall, too.”

  Andy noticed the boy’s use of the past tense and flicked a questioning glance toward his mother. Meeting his gaze, she gave him a slight shake of her head, her eyes pleading with him to let it go. He shelved the intriguing information for another time. Besides, he was still so aware of her, he was finding it hard to concentrate.

  “Come on, Jack. We’d better leave Sergeant Warwick to get back to his work, and I’d better get on with mine or we’ll be here all night. I still have the bathrooms to do.”

  “Call me Andy, please,” he interjected.

  Her lips turned up politely. She gave him a slight nod. “Andy it is then.” She turned away.

  Wanting to prolong their conversation, he cast around for something else to say. “How long does it normally take you to clean?” he blurted.

  She stopped and slowly turned back around to face him, her reluctance obvious. “A couple of hours, I guess. We’re usually out of here by eight-thirty. We’re running a little late tonight.” She gave him a tight smile.

  It was obvious she wanted to bring their conversation to an end, but he couldn’t help him
self. “That’s quite a late night for a young fellow.”

  She stiffened. Her eyes flashed with anger. He cursed himself silently for saying something stupid again.

  “Jack’s fine,” she ground out.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  Without giving him a chance to explain, she fired back at him, “I don’t know if I look like someone who enjoys cleaning toilets, Andy, but I assure you, I don’t. Unfortunately, money doesn’t grow on trees and I have bills to pay.” Twin spots of bright color now stained her cheeks. Her eyes sparked fire.

  He was mortified. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “What? That my parenting skills aren’t up to scratch? That I’m an unfit mother? That my son should be home in bed, getting a good night’s sleep?” She was breathing heavily through her anger.

  “No! I only meant—”

  “Forget it,” she interrupted again, shrugging her shoulders as if it no longer mattered. “You don’t know anything about me or my son.”

  “Maybe we could change that?” He spoke without thinking, desperation overcoming his usual reticence. He offered her an uncertain smile, unwilling to let her walk out spitting fire at him.

  Her eyes widened in shock. “You’re kidding me? First you insult me and then you ask me out?”

  “Well, I didn’t actually ask you out, but if that’s what you’d like…” He grinned, knowing it was probably going to infuriate her further, but somehow unable to stop himself.

  “Oh! You are simply unbelievable! What I’d like is to finish here, go home and go to bed. Now, if you’re through insulting me, I’d appreciate it if you’d pass me the trash can under your desk so I can empty it and get out of here.”

  He looked down at the overflowing waste basket. If he refused to heed her request, she’d be forced to come in very close proximity. In fact, if he chose to sit back down, she’d very nearly have to put her hand between his legs if she wanted to retrieve it.

  Seeing the tension in her body and noticing, for the first time, the tiny lines of fatigue around her eyes, he relented. It was obvious she’d had a hard day. It was even more obvious she wasn’t in the mood for teasing.