A Spark of Light(41)

The thing was, the worst hadn’t happened … yet. Bex was safe, now. And Wren would be, no matter what it cost him.

Beyond the command tent, the reporters had formed a line, each faced by a cameraman, like they were arranged for some courtly dance. Hugh heard the closest reporter spout absolute and total bullshit to fill up time on a live feed. “The question, of course,” the reporter said, “is where did the gun come from? Who sold him the gun? It’s worth remembering that a dishonorable discharge may be a military court ruling, but it’s still a felony, and for Goddard to have a gun would be illegal—”

Hugh closed his eyes. He pushed away the voices of the reporters and thoughts of Bex and Wren hiding from a lunatic with a gun. No distractions, he told himself. No distractions.

He dialed his phone, and George picked up on the third ring. “That was great,” Hugh said. “You released someone who really needed help. I knew you and I could work together.” Hugh wiped his forehead. It was hotter than hell.

“I’m not working with you,” George said. “You’re a fucking cop.”

Hugh closed his eyes. It was going to be considerably worse when the SWAT team arrived, which could be any minute now. Which meant he had limited time to woo his hostage taker.

“I’m a negotiator,” Hugh corrected. “You’re the only reason I’m here.”

He forced himself to block out the people around him—emergency personnel and media. If he was going to do his job, he had to create a space that was just him, George, and no one else. It was a seduction, and Hugh would say anything he had to in order to reach the endgame.

“Look,” Hugh said, “a lot of these guys out here, they make assumptions. Not me. I know you’re smart. The fact that you let that woman get medical attention proves it.”

That woman.

As if Bex hadn’t basically raised him after his father died and his mother started drinking.

He hesitated, waiting to see if George would take the bait. “Are there others inside who need help?”

“I’m not letting anyone else go.”

“This could be a win-win, George. If there are more people in there with you who are hurt, and you send them outside, then you don’t have to worry about them … and it makes you look compassionate to everyone out here.”

A young detective tapped Hugh on the shoulder. She held up a cellphone. “His pastor,” the detective whispered.

Hugh nodded and held up a finger for her to wait a moment. “George, is anyone else in there hurt?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because you opened the door, and I kept my promise. I waited. I didn’t rush the clinic and storm in. You can trust me.”

“To do what? Screw me over in the end?”

The detective scribbled on a piece of paper and waved it beneath Hugh’s nose. BORN AGAIN.

“No. To do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” Hugh said.

“You a Christian?”

“Yes,” Hugh said, although he wasn’t a religious man at all. “Are you?”

He could hear George’s breathing. “Not anymore.”

Hugh looked down at the piece of paper that the detective had handed him. “God will forgive you for what you’ve done, George.”

“What makes you think I’ll forgive Him?” George said, and the line went dead.

Hugh grabbed the cellphone from the detective. “Hugh McElroy,” he said. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Pastor Mike Kearns,” a man replied. “I lead the Eternal Life Church up in Denmark.”

“Thanks for calling, Pastor. I understand you know George Goddard?”

“George used to be our church handyman. Landscaping, carpentry, you name it. I don’t think there’s anything he can’t fix.”

“When did he stop working for you?”

“Six months ago, give or take?” Shame crept into the pastor’s voice. “We had some storm damage and the budget got tight. Now, we have volunteers doing what George used to do.”

“Have you been watching the news today, Pastor?”

“No, I’ve been officiating at a funeral—”

“George Goddard shot up the Women’s Center in Jackson and is currently holding several hostages.”

“What? No. No, that isn’t the man I know.”

Hugh didn’t have time for this man’s existential crisis. “Did he exhibit any violent tendencies when you employed him?”

“George? Never.”

“Was he pro-life?”

“Well,” the pastor said, “our congregation believes in protecting the rights of the unborn—”

“Enough to kill people to get your message heard?”

The pastor drew in his breath. “I don’t appreciate being tried for my faith, Officer—”

“Lieutenant. Lieutenant McElroy. And I don’t appreciate people who waltz into a clinic and start killing innocent bystanders.”

“Killing? My God.”

“You can have Him,” Hugh said under his breath. “Listen, Pastor, I don’t mean to attack you. But there are people in that clinic who might die. Anything you can tell me about George Goddard that could help me understand him and his motivations would be greatly appreciated.”