Free Cries in the Night by Kathy Clark

spoke, causing the man to glance back at the two firefighters. “You know what, asshole? I’ve got nothing more to lose. Do you?”
     

 
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
     
    Julie was unabashedly eavesdropping as the cops and firefighters discussed their options. They were at a stalemate in the negotiations. SWAT was still off to the side, trying to formulate a plan, but with the windows boarded up and the doors rigged, there weren’t a lot of ways to get into the house. They were looking into the possibility of breaching the premises through the basement or even the attic, but so far nothing conclusive had been decided.
    Rusty’s and Jason’s families had arrived several hours ago and were trying to arrange the ransom, but a million dollars each was a lot of money for middle class families to raise in the middle of the night. They were ignoring the city policies for not giving in to kidnappers or terrorists and scrambling to try to find a way to meet the man’s demands.
    Julie hesitated to butt into the family’s unit, but Sam and Chris were busy talking to the cops and the father was tagging along with his sons. A middle-aged woman stood all alone. Worry lines were etched across her forehead and her lips were pressed together tightly. Sam had hugged the woman when she arrived, so Julie guessed she was his, Sam and Rusty’s mom. If ever there was a victim, that woman was one.
    Julie switched into advocate mode and walked over to her. She held out her hand. “Mrs. Wilson?”
    The older, but still attractive woman took Julie’s hand in a firm grip and didn’t release it, as if she were holding on in hope of getting more information. “Yes … yes, I am. Do you have any news about Rusty?”
    “No, not yet,” Julie told her. “But I know they’re still in contact with the man inside. As long as they keep him talking, it gives them time to plan.”
    The woman looked into Julie’s eyes. “I go through this every day, worrying about whether or not my boys will come home at night. I was out of town when Sam got hurt this summer, and they kept it from me until Jack and I got home. He’s lucky he survived or I would have killed him.” She gave a short little laugh that was more hysterical than humorous. “My name is Pat.”
    “I’m Julie Lawrence. I work for DPD as a Victim’s Advocate, but I’m here tonight as a friend. In the course of my job I run into one of your son’s at least every day.”
    “I know they love their jobs, but it sure is hard on their parents.”
    “I’ll bet it is,” Julie agreed.
    “So why is this psycho doing this?”
    “The cops are running a background check on him, but I haven’t heard if they’ve found out anything.”
    Pat brushed a tear off her cheek. “I always worried that Rusty would get hurt in a fire. Never something like this.”
     
     
     
    With the windows blocked and the only clocks visible being the timers set on the bombs, Rusty had no idea what time it was or how long they had been tied up. Periodically, the phone would ring and the man would have a brief conversation. Other than that, he didn’t talk much. He paced a lot, the remote never leaving his hand. In spite of the room being relatively cool, beads of sweat glistened on his high forehead. His cheeks were flushed and his hands shook constantly. Rusty was a little concerned the man was going to have a heart attack and collapse, falling on the remote. Even an accidental detonation would be a disaster.
    The house had once been very nice. The draperies had flouncy treatments on top and delicate sheers blocking the sheets of plywood that covered the windows. The drapes were not something a man would buy and the plywood was a recent addition. The furniture wasn’t fancy, but it was of good quality. There were colorful throw pillows on the couch and chairs and a drooping silk flower arrangement on the mantle. Everything was dusty and the carpet had not been vacuumed for months … or longer. But it was clearly