The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [139]
“This is Sniper A. It’s ten o’clock-check time. I have visual of B, but no reports on C. Please confirm.”
Houlihan’s voice crackled again. “Sniper C, come in. Sniper C, come in.”
The radio was quiet.
“Sniper C?”
More silence. Tess and Quincy exchanged glances.
Houlihan’s voice was strong. “Do we have visual of Sniper C?”
“This is Sniper B. I’m looking across the street now. I see Sniper A standing in the west corner. I do not see Sniper C in the east. I repeat, I do not see Sniper C in the east. Please confirm, Sniper A.”
“This is Sniper A. I don’t have visual, sir. Requesting permission to check it out.”
“Permission denied,” Houlihan said flatly. “Hold your position. I’m calling in SWAT. I repeat, stay at your points, I’m calling in SWAT. We are now in status red. I repeat, status red.”
As Tess watched, Quincy calmly took out two extra clips of bullets and placed them on the table beside him. He raised his 9 millimeter and pointed it at the door. “Do you have a gun, Ms. Williams?”
“Yes.”
“Now is the time to take it out. Please remember, he’s here to kill. There will be no negotiating on his part and there will be no leniency. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” she said. “I won’t hesitate.”
“Good.”
“SIR, LET US take her. Sir, you have to let go now.”
J.T. stared at the man dully. He was wearing a paramedics uniform and holding a red medical kit. Behind him sirens whirled red and garish.
“I’m holding her together,” he said hoarsely, not relinquishing her.
“I know, sir,” the young man said gently. He could tell that the woman was dead. “That’s our job now. Someone said you were a cop.”
Slowly the words penetrated. J.T. looked down at Marion. Her head lolled against his arm. The loss inside him was too great. He couldn’t measure it. He couldn’t put it into words. He couldn’t feel it, because when he did, it would bring him to his knees.
He placed his baby sister in the paramedic’s arms. “I have to go. Take good care of her for me, please. Just . . . please.”
He began to run.
Behind him the paramedic shouted at him to stop. He didn’t listen.
The darkness in him had grown a voice. And now it screamed at the top of its lungs, Kill Jim Beckett, kill Jim Beckett, kill Jim Beckett.
He ran like a man possessed, and blood lust lit his eyes.
“SIR, SIR!” THE walkie-talkie blazed to life. “This is Team Omega. We have a hit on Hoxsey. I repeat, a woman is down on Hoxsey, same MO. Beckett is in the area!”
Tess put her head between her knees and started taking deep breaths. Quincy’s radio seemed to dance with a hideous cacophony of reports.
“This is Team Alpha. Repeat, Team Alpha. We are on the roof, east corner. There is no sign of Sniper C—”
“This is Team Omega. Officer down, officer down. Repeat, Agent MacAllister is down—”
“Shit!” Quincy’s fist hit the table. Tess jumped.
“Suspect is reportedly dressed as a security guard. Last seen headed north. We are in pursuit. Requesting full mobilization—”
“SWAT team has been mobilized. They are in transit—”
“Officer down, officer down! This is Team Alpha, from the east corner. We have found Sniper C. Dear God, sir, we have found Sniper C—” From the background there came the sound of retching. “Requesting backup, requesting immediate backup. He’s on the roof. Shit, I think I see him. He’s on the fucking roof! The roof, the roof!”
Over the airwaves Quincy and Tess heard the sound of men running.
“Hold positions, hold positions!” Houlihan screamed. “I said, hold your fucking positions!”
Gunfire exploded across the radio. The sound of a man’s hoarse cry. “Difford. OhmyGod, ohmyGod! Jesus fucking Christ!”
Houlihan was now yelling at the top of his lungs.
“What is going on out there?” Tess cried.
“I don’t know,” Quincy said.
His face had gone pale. His gaze settled on the ceiling.
J.T. ROUNDED THE corner. He heard shooting and drew his gun. He heard a man’s cry. He was still