Matt handed the rifle back to the sniper, “Have you had any contact with her?”
“We’ve tried to talk to her, sir,” the trooper crouching beside the sniper moved back from the corner and still in a combat crouch, filled him in. “She ain’t said a word. Nothing. Not even a ‘fuck you,’ or a ‘kiss my ass.’ ”
Matt wanted to vomit, just lean over and throw up all over the floor. His stomach churned. He couldn’t understand what had triggered this. Why was she doing this? If he could figure that out, he might be able to figure out how to handle it. He hated this feeling of helplessness, of the situation being out of his control, having no answers. The bile crawled up his esophagus, and he fought to keep the acidic tide down.
“We’re planning a sleep gas assault …” Matt realized the trooper was talking again. “But once we pop the gas, we dunno what she’s gonna do before the gas puts her down. It’ll take a good sixty seconds for the gas to take effect. If she decides to go down a swingin’, she can do a lot of hell-raising in a minute’s time.”
“Yeah, no shit!” Matt never liked the gas solution. It usually did nothing more than panic a perp into far more rash behavior than they’d even been considering in the first place. And Stella had given no indication she was inclined to go quietly without any provocation. Matt didn’t like the idea of playing football with a hornet’s nest. Standing up, he pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster. He spun it around by the trigger guard on his index finger, offering the grip to Walsh.
“Ok. New plan!” Matt tried to fill his voice with as much false bravado and brash bluff as he could. He knew he had no authority in a tactical situation where SWAT had taken command. “We’re gonna hold off on the gas while I go out there and try to talk some sense into her.”
“Whoa!” Walsh protested immediately. “The El Tee told me to keep you from doing something just like this.”
“Stand down, Trooper!” Matt fired back. “I know this woman better than any of you here. I stand the best chance of resolving this peacefully without anyone else getting hurt.”
“You walk around that corner, and you stand the best chance of being the next cop to get shot!” Walsh folded his arms stubbornly, refusing to take Matt’s pistol. “And if that happens, I’m back on patrol duty, pounding the beat in a black-and-white.” He shook his head, emphatically. “I don’t think so.”
“He’s right, Special Inspector,” the young sniper interjected. “She ain’t in a chatty mood. Most likely, she’ll raise up and shoot you as soon as you turn that corner.”
“Gentlemen, this is not a subject open for discussion.” Matt was adamant. “I assure you … if you interfere with me, it won’t be just a beat you’ll be back on. You’ll be working traffic detail in Rocket Town.”
Yeah, he was playing dirty, and he knew it. Yes, SWAT technically ruled the moment, but those troopers also knew that it was only a moment. Once it was over, interdepartmental politics always prevailed in the long run. They knew Special Inspector Matt Burlington was a man on the move. He was going places. He could cause a hapless trooper who’d gotten on his wrong side a lot of grief if he chose to do so.
The two men looked at each other, realizing they were damned if they did and damned if they didn’t. With a resigned sigh, Walsh shook his head and took Matt’s gun.
“You better not get yourself killed,” he grumbled irritably. “When this is over, you damned well better be the ranking officer! Our damned jobs are on the line here!”
“Tell your men to give me five minutes,” Matt walked to the corner and took a quick peek around. He expected a shot to the head, but nothing happened. “After five minutes, you can launch your attack. If anything happens to me, you can say I broke loose and ran out into the line of fire like a damned fool.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be that far-fetched,” the sniper shrugged. “I give you thirty seconds before she drops you.”
“Well, in that case, you won’t have to wait five minutes then, will ya?” Matt replied, already stepping into the open hallway. To the nurse’s desk, he called out, “Stella! It’s me, Matt! I’m coming out, and I’m unarmed. I just wanna talk!”
He wanted so badly to add, “Don’t shoot me … please!” But he thought it’d make him sound weak.
Still, in his head, those four words bounced around his skull like a ricocheting tennis ball.
Don’t shoot me … please!
***
“Stella? It’s me, Matt! I’m coming out, and I’m unarmed. I just wanna talk!”
Sitting on the floor behind the nurse’s station, her back against the counter, her gun up and at the ready, she heard his voice and knew it would soon be over. She’d been waiting on him, and now he was here. Her mission was about to be completed.
One more shot. No more pain. No more humiliation. No more fighting a fight she knew she couldn’t win.
You can’t beat the demons in your head, especially the ones who hurt you when you didn’t do what they told you to do. And … Oh, God! How they hurt you bad! So bad!
“Stella? Please!” He was calling to her again. Appealing to a woman that no longer existed. “I just wanna talk, that’s all!”
She closed her eyes; tried to allow herself one quick memory of what it felt like to love the man she was destined to kill. But the … things … they sensed what she was doing, and they wouldn’t allow it. Unbearable pain struck her, and it seemed her skull would split from front to back like someone had just driven a wedge through the top of it and was
