CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

They sprinted across the lawn from the car to the house.

When they arrived at the front door, Jessie immediately noticed something that filled her with dread: The door was ajar.

Ryan pulled out his gun and indicated that Jessie should do the same. He'd already called in the address before they'd left the vehicle, but dispatch had indicated that the closest squad car was five minutes out. That might be too late for Margot Howell. They couldn't wait.

"Don't take any chances," he whispered to her. "You're still recovering from that concussion. If he gets close to you, just shoot. Don't physically engage."

Jessie nodded. She didn't have any intention of letting Charlie Warner get anywhere near her. But her assurances wouldn't have offered Ryan much comfort, so she didn't even try.

Ryan quietly pushed the door open with his foot and darted inside. Jessie followed him, pressing her back against the wall. She immediately noticed a giant spiral staircase that looked like it led all the way to the top of the house. Next to it was an empty glass tube for what clearly housed a capsule-style elevator. On the floor beside that was a broken vase with flowers strewn about.

"Looks like there was a struggle," she said quietly.

Just then, they heard a dinging sound from somewhere high above them. They both looked at the indicator light above to the clear elevator tube door and saw that the "5" was lit up.

"You think he took her up there?" Ryan asked, voicing her question aloud.

She was about to reply when she heard a loud grunt. That was followed by what she thought was panting. It sounded distinctly male.

"No," she replied in a hushed tone. "You hear that? I think she somehow got in the elevator and took it to the top floor, leaving Warner to take the stairs to get to her. I'm guessing he's at least halfway up."

"We can catch up to him," Ryan said confidently.

"You can do that," she replied, walking over to the elevator and pushing the "up" button. "Like you said, I'm still recovering. I'll just slow you down. But I'll meet you at the top."

Ryan looked like he wanted to argue. Jessie understood why. He didn't want them separated. But after a second he seemed to calculate that what she was saying made sense.

"Be careful," he pleaded, then without waiting for a reply, started bounding up the stairs three at a time.

Jessie watched him go. Once he disappeared from sight, she turned her attention to the elevator. The indicator light showed that it was coming down, just passing the third floor. She felt a tingling sensation in her fingers as adrenaline poured through her system. She reminded herself that this was normal. She just had to control it.

She checked the weapon again as she forced slow breaths out of her mouth and back in through her nose. Once the glassed-in elevator arrived and she stepped inside, she continued the routine. The process was calming, and she felt the buzz in her fingers fade just as the elevator reached the top floor. She didn"t see anyone through the glass, but just to be safe, she crouched down. There was a loud ding, after which the door slid open. Jesie waited a beat, and rolled out.

The stairwell was to her left. A long hallway extended to her right. There was still no one in sight. She held her breath for a moment so that she could hear any noise, however slight. But there was only silence. It didn't last long. As she exhaled, she heard a scream from the end of the hall. She got to her feet and sprinted in that direction.

As she approached, she could see that the door to the last room on the left was open. She slowed down even as the screams continued, well aware that barreling in would only put her at risk. She took a moment to gather herself just outside the door, then spun in, her weapon raised.

Her eyes scanned the scene, processing everything at once. She was in a large bedroom. At the far end, on the other side of the bed, Margot Howell stood by an open window, one leg on the ledge, as if she might leap out at any moment. Charlie Warner, leather leash in his hands, was approaching her with his back to Jessie.

He clearly didn"t want Howell to jump, so he moved slowly. Even so, he was almost close enough to grab her. Howell, her arms quivering as she gripped the edge of the window pane, glanced over and saw Jessie.

She was a slight woman in her late twenties, with sculpted brown hair and an angular face. She was wearing a business jacket and a long tight skirt that made it hard for her to keep her foot on the ledge. Her eyes were filled with terror, and it was clear that she hadn't calculated that as bad as the threat from Warner was, jumping out a five-story window could be worse.

"Freeze," Jessie shouted, just as Warner reached out to Howell. His arm stopped in mid-air. "Turn around slowly with your hands in the air!"

He did as ordered. For the first time, she got a good look at him. He was wearing a logo-less black baseball cap from which grayish black hair peeked out, as well as what appeared to be a thin line of blood trickling down his forehead. His salt and pepper beard was scraggly. His brown eyes were wild, but he had deep bags underneath them, as if he hadn't slept in days. He wore a black windbreaker and faded jeans, along with once-white sneakers that were now a muddy gray. The leash dangled in his left hand.

"I'm so sorry," he insisted. "I give up. Here's the leash."

He extended his hand as if he intended to toss it at Jessie's feet, but at the last moment, he flung it upward so that it flew toward her face. As Jessie swatted it away with her left hand, Warner darted to his right, yanked Howell in front of him, and wrapped his right arm around her neck. Jessie pressed down slightly on the trigger of her gun before stopping and easing back. He was too close to Howell. She didn't have a shot.

"Jessie!" Ryan shouted from the hallway.

"We're in the last room on the left!" she yelled back, her eyes never leaving Warner.

A moment later, Ryan entered the room and moved into position beside her. His gun was pointed squarely at Warner as he surveyed the situation. While he did that, Jessie took the initiative.

"Charlie," she said, speaking in a calm, quiet tone, "you don't want to do anything crazy here. We can find a way out of this."

Quaking in front of him, Margot Howell whimpered softly.

"I wish that was true," Warner said, smiling sadly. "But I don't see one. What else do I have to lose at this point? I've already lost my wife and most of my self-respect. As long as I'm done for, I might as well take this hateful bitch with me."

He squeezed her neck tighter in the crook of his right elbow. Howell gagged slightly. Jessie felt Ryan stiffen beside her and feared that he might shoot. If he did, there was a real chance that both Warner and Howell would topple backward out the window. She couldn"t change that.

"Okay, listen," she said, lifting her gun high in the air above her head, "I'm going to put my firearm away as a show of good faith. Let's talk this out, Charlie."

Warner shook his head. "Your buddy there doesn't seem to be following your lead," he said, agitated.

"For him to do that, you have to give us something, Charlie," she replied. "It's only fair."

"I don't have anything to give, lady!" he shouted.

"Okay, okay," she said, "everything's cool. By the way, my name is Jessie."

"Nice to meet you, Jessie. Now screw off!"

"You know I can't do that," she insisted, "but I can hear you out. Tell me what's got you so upset. Talk to me."

"It's too late to talk."

"It's never too late to talk," she replied. "Don't you want someone to know why you're doing all this?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"It's my job to understand, Charlie," she told him. "Try me."

He hesitated and she could tell that he was thinking about. Everyone wanted to tell their story, to be understood. She was counting on Charlie Warner"s desire to be heard, outweighing his desire to kill.

"Everything's gone to crap." He finally said with an exhausted sigh.

"How exactly?" she asked, imbuing her voice with as much sympathy as she could muster.

"Listen, I know it's not an excuse, but I had it pretty rough as a kid," he explained.

"What happened?" she asked, pretending as if it wasn't completely absurd to think that anything that was done to him might justify his actions.

"We don't need to go into all that," he said sharply, before seeming to regain some measure of control. "The point is, I thought I'd clawed my way out of all that. I got married. I got to do what I loved for work. I was happy. Then my wife cheated on me and left me. I lost all my money, Now I have no future. And I have to deal with awful people like this one all the time. What's the point?"

Jessie considered returning to his childhood. She wondered if getting him to confide in her might create some kind of bond that she could use to talk him down. But she also feared that broaching the subject again would only agitate him more. It was a risk she couldn't take, so she went a different way.

"What about Welker?" she asked, referring to Margot Howell's miniature schnauzer.

She saw his eyes flicker briefly in warm recognition.

"What about him?"

"If you kill Margot, he loses his mom. She might be a terrible person, but she obviously cares for him, and so do you. Would you do that to him? Leave him without his person?"

Warner looked conflicted, so she kept going, hoping to further burrow doubt in him.

"I know you care about him, just like you care about Chloe Henshall's dog, Missy, and the Ashe's dog, Freddy. Just like you cared about Max before he died. But this is different, Charlie. Max has passed away, and at least Missy and Freddy have other people left to take care of them. Welker would be all alone. You don't want that."

She saw him relent slightly, and unconsciously loosen his grip on Margot's neck a little. His eyes were misty.

"They deserve better owners," he said quietly. "You'd be surprised at how many people just don't care. You know, you can tell how people will treat each other by how they treat animals. And some people are just bad."

His eyes hardened at the thought, and Jessie knew she'd lost him. They were out of time.

"Now," she muttered to Ryan under her breath.

Almost as soon as the word was out of her mouth, he fired, hitting Charlie in the left shoulder. Crying out in pain, the man dropped to ground. Margot immediately ripped herself free of him, but as she did, she lost her balance and stumbled backward.

Jessie watched as her body began to topple over the window ledge, seemingly in slow motion. Without thinking, she dashed forward and threw herself at the window. As she landed, with her stomach hitting the floor, her hands grasped hold of Margot's left ankle just before it disappeared from sight.

Even though she couldn't weigh more than 120 pounds, Margot's fast-dropping body pulled Jessie upward toward the window and she felt herself starting to slide over the ledge as well. She tried to brace herself against the wall but knew it was a losing proposition. Her own upper body was just starting to careen over the edge when she felt two firm hands wrap around her waist and stop her momentum dead.

"Still got her?" Ryan asked, his lips close to her ear.

"Uh-huh," she grunted, "but pull us up quick."

He did exactly that, tugging her back in and then grabbing Howell's right ankle so that together, they could carefully ease the woman back inside. She was screeching incoherently, and Jessie couldn"t tell if she was just terrified, in pain, or both.

Ryan stepped away, and Jessie looked to see where he was going. Apparently Charlie Warner had used the chaos to try to escape and was crawling toward the bedroom door, his left arm dangling and bleeding. Ryan caught up to him in moments and cuffed him. In an act of undeserved kindness, he cuffed him in front so that his destroyed shoulder wouldn't be stretched backward, causing him more pain. She returned her attention to Margot Howell.

"You're safe now," she said in a hushed, reassuring tone. He can't hurt you anymore."

The words seemed to register, and the woman stopped screaming.

"Are you okay?" Jessie asked. "Are you injured?"

Howell took a second to check herself out. After a few moments she seemed to decide that at least physically, she was all right. Then she stared up at Jessie. But instead of looking grateful, her brow furrowed, and her eyes got stormy. When she answered, her voice was filled with acid.

"What the hell took you incompetent people so long!"