Another pause.
Then: “On the bed.”
“Is your hand on it?”
“No.”
“Can Noah move away from it?”
No answer.
That was not good.
Alicia said, “Derek, I need you to push the gun away from the child.”
“He’s not near it.”
“Then push it away.”
“I said he’s not near it.”
Alicia did not argue. In a house like this, argument could become gasoline.
Instead, she asked, “How old is Noah?”
Derek’s voice changed for the first time.
“Five.”
“What does he like?”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Talk like you care.”
“I do care.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Then tell me.”
Silence again.
Then, very quietly, Derek said, “Dinosaurs.”
Alicia seized the thread.
“What kind?”
No answer.
“Does he like T. rex?”
“Everybody likes T. rex.”
“Not everybody. My nephew likes triceratops.”
“That’s because your nephew is boring.”
The sentence was absurd enough that, under different circumstances, it might have sounded human. That was one of the frightening things about crisis calls. The person behind the door can be both dangerous and ordinary. A man with a gun near a child can also know dinosaur preferences. Humanity does not cancel danger. It only makes the danger harder to fit into a simple shape.
Alicia said, “Noah needs to come downstairs so the paramedics can help his mom.”
“She’s not his mom anymore if she leaves.”
There it was again.
Ownership dressed as grief.
“Derek, Emma is his mother whether you are angry or not.”
“She was going to take him to Oregon.”
Alicia had no idea if that was true. She did not need to know yet.
“Right now, Emma is hurt. That is the problem we are solving.”
“She was leaving me.”
“That does not mean she deserves to die.”
The hallway went silent.
Brennan glanced at Alicia.
Maybe too direct.
Maybe necessary.
Inside the bedroom, Derek’s breathing became audible.
Then he said, “I didn’t mean to shoot her.”
Alicia did not move.
“How did it happen?”
“She grabbed it.”
“Okay.”
“She grabbed it first.”
“Okay.”
“She said she would call police.”
“Okay.”
“I told her not to.”
“Derek, where was Noah when this happened?”
No answer.
Alicia waited.
The answer came from a small voice inside the room.
“I was in the closet.”
Derek snapped, “I said quiet!”
Alicia lifted her voice slightly.
“Noah, you’re doing great. Stay low, buddy.”
Derek shouted, “Do not talk to him!”
Downstairs, Tyler heard the shout and looked toward the staircase.
Emma’s pulse fluttered beneath his fingers.
EMS was still staged. Too dangerous to enter. Tyler knew why. He also knew Emma was running out of time.
“Grant,” he called up, “we need movement soon.”
Alicia heard him.
Derek heard him too.
“She dying?” Derek asked.
Alicia said nothing.
“Is she dying?”
“She needs medical help now.”
Derek began to cry.