"I've got a few remarks to make first by way of intro, then you can tape Ronnie's statement. We'll save Sabra and the baby for last."
Kip handed Tiel the wireless microphone, then swung the camera up onto his shoulder and fitted the viewfinder against his eye socket. The light mounted on top of the camera came on. Tiel took up a preplanned position, where the majority of the store's interior could be seen behind her. "Is this okay?"
"Fine by me. Sound level's okay. I'm rolling."
"This is Tiel McCoy." She made the brief opening remarks she had rehearsed. Her statement of the facts was impassioned but not maudlin, having just the right blend of empathy and professional detachment. She resisted the temptation to embellish, believing that Ronnie and Sabra's comments would be more stirring than anything she could say.
When she finished, she signaled Ronnie forward. He seemed reluctant to move into the bright light. "How do I know they won't take a shot at me?"
"While you're on camera and posing no immediate threat? The FBI has enough of a PR problem without the public outcry that would create."
Apparently he saw the logic in Tiel's argument. Moving into place, he cleared his throat. "Tell me when to go."
"You're on," said Kip. "Go."
"I didn't kidnap Sabra Bendy," he blurted. "We ran away. Simple as that. It was wrong of me to rob this store.
I admit that." He went on to explain that they had been driven away by Mr. Dendy's threat to separate them permanently from each other and their baby. "Sabra and I want to get married and live together with Katherine as a family. That's all. Mr. Dendy, if you won't let us live our own lives, we'll end them right here. Tonight."
"Two minutes," Kip whispered, reminding them of the time limit.
"Very good, Ronnie." Tiel took the microphone from him and signaled Kip to follow her to where Sabra lay.
Quickly he positioned himself above her for the best possible camera angle.
"Be sure you're getting the baby, too," Sabra told him.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm rolling."
Ronnie had taken a typically masculine approach-aggressive, contentious, challenging. Sabra's statement was perhaps more eloquent, but equally and chillingly resolute.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't falter when she concluded with, "It's impossible for you to understand how we feel, Daddy, because you don't know what it's like to love someone. You say you only want what's best for me, but that's not true. You want what's best for you. You're willing to sacrifice me, you're willing to give up your granddaughter, just to have your way.
That's sad. I don't hate you. I pity you."
She ended just as Kip said, "Time's up." He turned off the camera and lowered it from his shoulder. "I don't want to go over the time limit and be the cause of all hell breaking loose."
As he and Tiel picked their way back toward the door, he said, "A guy named Joe Marcus has called the newsroom several times."
"Who?"
"Joe Mar-"
"Oh, Joseph."
"He was making such a pest of himself they finally patched him through to me here."
"How'd he know about this?"
"Same as everybody else, I guess," Kip replied. "Heard it on the news. Wanted to know if you were all right. Said he was worried sick about you."
In the intervening hours since her telephone conversation with him, she'd almost forgotten the wife-cheating, lying rat with whom she had planned to spend a romantic holiday. It seemed a very long time ago that Joseph Marcus had held any appeal for her. She could barely remember what he looked like.
"If he calls again, hang up on him."
The unflappable photographer shrugged laconically.
"Whatever."
"And Kip, be sure and tell Galloway and company that Agent Cain and the rest of us are faring well."
"Speak for yourself," Cain said. "You tell Galloway that I said-"
"Shut up!" Ronnie yelled at him. "Or I'll let that Mexican muzzle you again."
"Go to hell."
Kip looked reluctant to leave Tiel in such a hostile environment, but a pair of headlights flashed twice. "That's my signal," he explained. "Gotta go. Take care, Tiel."
He slipped through the door and Ronnie motioned Donna to lock it behind him.
Cain started laughing. "You're a fool, Davison. You think that video means doodle-dee-squat? Galloway only saw a way to stall a little longer, get more manpower in here."
Ronnie's eyes sawed between the FBI agent and Tiel, who shook her head. "I don't think so, Ronnie. You've talked to Galloway. He sounds sincerely concerned for everyone. I don't believe he would trick you."
"Then you're no smarter than he is." Cain snickered.
"Galloway's got a psychologist out there, coaching him on how to deal with this situation. They know how to smooth talk. They know which buttons to push. Galloway's got over twenty years in the Bureau. This standoff is chicken feed to him. He could handle it in his sleep."
"Why don't you shut up?" Ronnie said angrily.
"Why don't you eat shit?"
Vern, who'd come awake for the TV camera, said, "Hey, watch your language in front of my wife."
"Never mind, Vern," Gladys said. "He's an asshole."
"I gotta go to the John," Donna whined.
"I want everybody to settle down and be quiet!" Ronnie yelled.
He looked haggard. He had composed himself for the camera, but now his nerves were beginning to fray again.
Fatigue, jangled nerves, and a loaded handgun made for a lethal combination.
Tiel could strangle Cain for goading him. In her opinion, the FBI would be better off without Agent Cain. "Ronnie, how about allowing us a bathroom break?" she suggested. "It's been hours for all of us. It may help everyone relax until we hear back from Galloway. What do you say?"
He thought it over. "You ladies. One at a time. Not the men. If they have to go, they can do it out here."
Donna excused herself first. Then Gladys. Tiel went last. While in the rest room, she rewound the audiotape in her pocket recorder and spot-checked it. Sabra's voice came through, muffled but distinct enough, saying about her father, "That's the kind of person he is. He hates to be crossed." She fast-forwarded, stopped it again, depressed the Play button, and heard Doc's gritty baritone. "… at everybody. At everything. Goddamn cancer. My own inadequacy.
"
Yes! She'd been afraid the tape had run out before that confidential conversation. He would be a fantastic guest to have on Nine Live. If she could persuade him to do it.
She would just have to, that's all. She would begin the program with file footage of his travails following his wife's death, then ask for an updated viewpoint on those unhappy events that had reshaped his life. They could segue into a discussion about destroyed dreams. A psychologist, possibly a clergyman, could join them to expand on that theme: What happens to one's spirit when one's world falls apart?
Excited by the prospect, she replaced the recorder in her pocket, used the toilet, and washed her face and hands. By the time she came out, Vern was headed toward the men's room to empty the bucket the men had used.
As Vern passed Cain, he asked Ronnie, "What about him?"
"No. Unless you're volunteering to unzip him and do the honors."
Vern snorted and continued on his way. "Looks like you're gonna have to wet yourself, G-man."
The Mexican men, catching the gist of the exchange, snorted with ridicule.
Tiel rejoined Doc, whose gaze was fixed on the two men seated near the refrigerated cabinet with the shattered glass door. Tiel followed the direction of his thoughtful stare. "I wonder about that," he murmured.