Free High Noon by Nora Roberts Page B

she called Arnie into her office.
    “I’m going off shift,” he told her.
    “Close the door. Sit down.”
    “I’m on eight-to-fours. I go past four, I put in the OT.” But he swaggered over, took a seat. Lifted his jaw at the recorder on her desk. “What’s this?”
    “This conversation is being recorded for your protection, and mine.”
    “Maybe I need my delegate.”
    “If you want your delegate present, you’re free to call him.” Deliberately, she nudged the phone across the desk toward him. “Be my guest.”
    Arnie shrugged. “You got five minutes before I start clocking OT.”
    “At oh-nine-eleven this morning you responded to reports of gunfire at the offices of Jasper C. Hughes, Attorney at Law. Is that correct?”
    “That’s right.”
    “You responded to this location, running hot, approached the building in question. At that time, an individual inside the premises informed you he was armed, with two hostages. Is this correct?”
    “If you’re going to go through the whole report, we’re wasting time.”
    “Did you call for backup or for a negotiation team at that time?”
    “No. I had it handled. Until you got there.”
    “You identified yourself as a police officer, via bullhorn.”
    “I took cover, as procedure, and ID’d myself, sure. I told the guy to put down the gun, to come out. He refused.”
    Phoebe sat back. “You’re right. We’re wasting time. The reports are here, including witness statements, statements from both hostages, statements from the officers who arrived on scene subsequently. Which include the fact that you did not follow procedure, did not call for a negotiation team, did not follow any of the guidelines in hostage negotiation and instead threatened and berated the hostage-taker into an agitated state.”
    “Guy shoots up an office, he’s already in an agitated state.”
    “And there, you’re correct. You never tried to talk him down.” Though her eyes flashed fury, her voice stayed flat, cold, utterly calm. “You told him you didn’t care, you told him he was going to jail.”
    He sent her that tight, smirking smile. “Not supposed to lie in negotiations.”
    “You’re going to want to wipe that smirk off your face, Officer. You pushed and you pushed.” She snatched up a page from a report. “‘Officer Meeks then engaged the subject via telephone and advised the subject he’d be better off just putting the gun to his head and pulling the trigger.’”
    “Reverse psychology. It was under control until you got on the line. Hostages made it out, didn’t they? No loss of life.”
    “There were three people in that office. Only two walked out.”
    “Only two mattered.”
    “In your opinion, yes, which I assume is why you felt entitled to call the hostage-taker a worthless fuck. Although I see nothing in the report that indicates the hostages mattered to you. You never asked for or ascertained their condition, and took actions that endangered their well-being—including telling the armed hostage-taker he didn’t have the balls to shoot the hostages.”
    “You want to blame somebody for your screwup, ma’am —”
    “My actions will hold up, Officer, I promise you. Yours, on the other hand, don’t. You’re suspended for thirty days.”
    He came up out of the chair. “Bullshit.”
    “The incident will be investigated, as will your actions during it. Meanwhile, you are ordered to report to the departmental psychiatrist for an evaluation within the next seventy-two hours.”
    The ugly red spread over his face, as it had in the lecture room. “You’re not running over me this way.”
    “You’re free to protest the suspension, but I can tell you you’ll find Captain Mc Vee, who has copies of all statements, in agreement with my decision.”
    “He’d agree to flap his wings like a chicken seeing as you’re blowing him.”
    She got slowly to her feet. “What did you say to me?”
    “You think it’s some secret you’re sitting here