The command post outside formed in less than ten minutes, but inside the house time moved strangely. Every second stretched around Frank’s breathing and Brian’s grip. Dana could hear radios murmuring behind her. She could feel the officers near her fighting the instinct to act. She knew every one of them hated what they were seeing: one of their own using the body of an innocent man as cover.
But hate is not a plan.
Brian knew that too.
“You’re waiting for your negotiator,” he said.
Dana answered, “I’m talking to you.”
“No, you’re stalling until somebody with a softer voice tells me about my options.”
“You have options.”
“Don’t insult me.”
“Then stop pretending this ends with you walking out.”
He smiled without warmth. “You think I’m alone in this?”
Dana did not answer too quickly.
That was the trap.
If she said yes, she sounded ignorant. If she said no, she gave him importance. So she spoke to the fact in front of her.
“You are the one holding Frank.”
Brian’s smile faded.
“You keep doing that.”
“What?”
“Making it small.”
“I’m making it specific.”
“No. You’re making me the bad guy because you don’t want to know who signed off on half the things you think I did.”
The room tightened.
Behind Dana, Ruiz shifted slightly.
Brian saw it and laughed.
“There it is. Now they’re listening.”
Dana kept her focus on him. “Who signed off?”
Brian tilted his head. “You really want that answer on body cam?”
“Yes.”
That answer surprised him.
For the first time, Brian looked uncertain.
Frank whispered, “He won’t say it.”
Brian jerked him.
Frank winced.
Dana raised her hand. “Easy.”
“He doesn’t know anything,” Brian snapped.
“He knows enough that you came here.”
“I came here to stop a lie.”
“You came here with a hostage.”
Brian’s eyes hardened again. He lifted the grenade slightly and used Frank’s body to angle backward toward the dining room. “I came here because Frank started copying records he didn’t understand.”
“What records?”
“He built a fairy tale.”
Frank’s voice came thinly. “Ask him about 17 Birch.”
Brian’s face changed so fast that Dana almost missed it.
17 Birch.
The address meant nothing to her in that moment, but it meant something to Brian. His fingers tightened. His shoulder moved. His eyes jumped toward the hallway, then toward Frank, then back to Dana.
“Frank,” Dana said, “what happened at 17 Birch?”
Brian shouted, “Enough.”
The volume made one officer flinch.
Frank closed his eyes.
Dana saw fear in his face, but also resolve. The old man had been terrified from the moment police entered, yet he was still trying to speak.
Brian leaned close to Frank’s ear.
“One more address,” he whispered, “and they’ll be cleaning you off this floor.”
Dana heard it.
So did every body camera in the room.
And outside, the command post heard it too.