From the Heart (56 page)

“Needing someone,” he said carefully, “doesn't mean you have to lose them.”

“I'm trying to believe that.” She took a deep breath. “For the first time in five years, I want to believe that. It matters, when I thought it never would again.”

After a moment, he lifted her hand and pressed the palm to his lips. “How much time do you want?”

The tears came instantly, silently. She hadn't had to ask. He had known. He was giving her what she needed with no questions, no demands. “I don't deserve you.” She shook her head. “I really don't.”

“That's my risk, isn't it?” He smiled. “In my opinion, I deserve you completely, so that balances things.”

“I need to do some thinking.” She kissed him, then held on. “I have to be alone, because you make it hard for me to think.”

“Do I?” He kissed her again. “All right,” he agreed, pulling her with him as he rose. “But think fast.”

“Tomorrow.” She held him close for another moment. “Just until tomorrow.” The arms around her had such strength. The man had so much to give. “Oh, God, am I a fool, Thorpe?”

“Yeah.” He drew her back to frame her face in his hands. “I'm a hell of a catch, Carmichael; just remember that.”

“I will,” she murmured as he walked to the door. He paused, and turned back with his hand on the knob.

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she repeated when she was alone.

T
hings were not as clear as Liv would have liked them to be. Once before she had thought herself in love, and she had been wrong. What she had felt for Doug had been the impulses and dreams of youth. She was older now, and more cautious. Perhaps too cautious, she mused as she settled behind her desk. Yet, when she told Thorpe she loved him, she wanted to say the words without any cloud of doubt. He deserved that from her.

She didn't want to lose him. That above all was crystal clear. He had become the focal point of her life in a very short time. Dependence. No, she couldn't deny that she was dependent on him. But was that love?

Was it love when a man kept drifting into your mind? When you began to associate the tiny details of your day with thoughts of him? When you stored up the little pieces to share with him?

Liv could remember what it was like to lie beside him in the morning—the quiet, the warmth, the easy unity. She could remember how a look in his eyes could make her tremble with need even in a crowded room.

Was she in love with him?
Why was she searching for another name for what she felt? The truth had been locked inside her for days. Now it was time to accept it. If she was going to ask Thorpe to take a risk, she had to be willing to take one herself. Love equaled vulnerability. He could hurt
her, undoubtedly would from time to time. The shield was gone now. She would never be able to hide behind it again. Abruptly, she realized she didn't want to. What she wanted could be said in one word: Thorpe.

“Liv!”

She turned to the frantic assignment editor with a brilliant smile. “Yes, Chester.” It was going to be a beautiful day.

“Take a crew. On the double. New Senate Office Building. Some guy, unidentified, is holding three hostages, including Senator Wyatt, in the senator's office.”

“Good God.” She was up, grabbing a pad and her purse. “Anybody hurt?”

“Not yet. As far as we know,” he added, streaking toward Carl's office. “There's been some gunfire. Be careful. We want a bulletin fast.”

“Twenty minutes.” She was already out the door.

The Capitol Police had the building surrounded when Liv arrived. She glanced around for telltale signs of Secret Service men and FBI. When you knew what to look for, they stood out clearly. On the rooftops of neighboring buildings, she caught glimpses of sharpshooters taking position. Men armed with ugly-looking guns were going over strategy and positions on two-ways. The press area was already partitioned off and jammed with reporters and technicians. Everyone was talking at once, demanding answers, trying to sneak their way through the barricade to secure a closer position.

Liv pushed her way through and managed to get a mike out to a nearby uniformed officer. “Olivia Carmichael, WWBW. Can you give us a rundown on what's happened? Do you have an identification on the man who's holding Senator Wyatt? What are his demands?”

“He's a former aide; that's all I can tell you.” That's all you
will
tell me, Liv corrected, noting the flicker in his eye. “He hasn't made any demands yet.”

“How many weapons does he have? How did he get inside the building?”

“We don't know. We're only sure about the handgun. He isn't even answering the phone yet.”

Liv was left with little more than nothing in the midst of a pack of hungry reporters. She had to find someone else—
with a looser tongue. She could manage a quick bulletin, but she was going to have to do a lot of digging to put anything solid on the air.

Senator Wyatt. Liv remembered him very well from the embassy party. Jovial, pink-cheeked Senator Wyatt who had joked with her and told her to dance with Thorpe. She glanced across the street and studied the dozens of windows. It didn't seem possible he was in one of those rooms with a gun held to his head.

On the edge of the crowd, Liv spotted a familiar face. It was the receptionist who had kept her cooling her heels for two hours in an office two floors below Senator Wyatt's only a few days before.

“Ms. Bingham.” Liv blessed the two hours and the innumerable cups of coffee she had consumed in the woman's office. “Olivia Carmichael. WWBW.”

“Oh, Ms. Carmichael, isn't it dreadful!” She stared up at the windows with her eyes wide and stunned. “They've cleared the whole building. I just can't believe it! Poor Senator Wyatt.”

“Do you know who's holding him?”

“It's Ed. Ed Morrow. Who would have thought it? Why, I've ridden in the elevator with him just dozens of times.” She lifted her hand to her throat at the memory. “I heard the senator had to let him go last week, but . . .”

“Why?” Liv had the mike under her arm and was scribbling quickly on her pad. The woman never seemed to notice.

“I'm not sure. Rumor is Ed got himself tangled up in gambling—something illegal. He's always so polite. Who would have thought it?”

“The senator fired him?”

“Just last week.” She nodded quickly three times, and her eyes were still wide. “He was supposed to clear out his desk today. He must have gone crazy. Sally said he shot twice in the hallway.”

“Sally?”

“The senator's secretary. She was just down the hall when it happened. If she had been in the office . . .” She swallowed and fixed her eyes back on the building. “He's fired
twice through the window since I've been out here. Do you think the senator's going to be all right?”

“I'm sure he's going to be fine.” Even as Liv said the words, the sharp report of gunfire split the air.

“Oh God!” The receptionist gripped Liv's arm. “Is he killing them? He must be killing them!”

“No, no.” Liv felt the cool lick of fear. “He's just shooting out of the window. It's going to be all right.” She had to corroborate the woman's identifications of the gunman before she put it on the air. That was the job—one step at a time. She couldn't think about what was happening to the people inside. Not yet. “Is the senator's secretary still here?”

“She had to go with the police. She's back there somewhere.”

“All right, thank you.” Quickly, Liv began to work her way through the crowd again. Spying Dutch, she headed straight for him. If anyone could give her the details, he could.

It was closer to half an hour than the twenty minutes she had promised, but Liv delivered a straightforward, detailed stand-up with pans of the police and the crowd. The building across the street was quiet—too quiet for her liking. She would almost have preferred another volley of gunfire to the silence. Terror, she realized abruptly, was always silent.

“When the hell is he going to do something?” Bob muttered beside her. The tension was seeping into them all—police, bystanders, press. Everyone was waiting for the next move. “Major league coming up,” he added. “There's T.C.”

“I'll be right back,” Liv told him. “Make sure the engineer's ready to patch us into the station if anything goes down.” She made for Thorpe like a homing pigeon heading for roost. “Thorpe.”

“Liv.” He touched her cheek briefly. “I figured you'd be here.”

“Is there anything new?” she asked, knowing there was more than a story involved this time. They both knew the man inside.

“They've established communications with Morrow. Wyatt's not hurt; neither are the aides. Yet. He doesn't seem to be quite rational. One minute he wants a half million in cash and
a plane, the next gold and an armored car. He changes his mind every time they talk to him.”

“How the hell did he get in there with a gun?” she demanded.

Thorpe gave a quick, mirthless laugh. His eyes never left the building across the street. “It isn't difficult for someone security's used to seeing to pass through. He had it in his jacket, I imagine, or it was already in his desk.” He shifted impatiently. Liv could tell he wanted to move, wanted to do something. “I'd feel better if he were a professional. In the state he's in, it's too easy for him to make a mistake and take the hostages down with him.” He swore with a quiet urgency she rarely heard from him. “He wanted to make certain he was getting full media coverage.”

“You don't really think he's doing it for the publicity, do you?” The thought appalled her.

Thorpe shook his head. “I've dealt with him several times when I've set up meetings.” He took out a cigarette. “He's a taut, hungry little man. A good mind, but the nerves show.”

“Gambling, I'm told.”

“So the stories go.” Thorpe drew on the cigarette and let out a quick stream of smoke. “Too quiet,” he muttered. “Too damn quiet.”

Tension was palpable. It increased, almost visibly, as the minutes dragged by. How long, she wondered, could the taut, hungry little man Thorpe had described stand up under the strain? He'd taken an irrevocable step. How much further would he go? She waited, like the others, to find out.

“Thorpe.” Liv recognized the man from the Secret Service, and frowned when he singled Thorpe out. “Chief Daniels wants you.”

“Sure.” Thorpe crushed another cigarette under his heel. “Her too,” he added with a jerked thumb at Liv. “We're a team.”

Liv bit back a smile. That was quite a change. Without a word, she followed behind them.

The communications van was set up well away from the press area. She glanced briefly at the equipment, the tape recorders, two-ways, phones, the men working in shirt sleeves. What could they want with Thorpe? she wondered. This had nothing to do with the press.

Chief Daniels pushed his glasses back onto his weary face.
“T.C., Morrow's demanding to speak to you directly. You game?”

“Sure.”

“The tape'll be running. Be careful what you say. If he makes any demands, don't promise, don't negotiate. Leave that to us.” He spoke quickly and without inflection, but Liv caught the undercurrents. He didn't like this new twist. “You're not in a position to give him anything he wants. He's smart enough to know that. Whatever he asks for, you just tell him that you'll check and get back to him. Understood?”

“Understood.”

He glanced at Liv and focused in on her press badge.

“She's with me,” Thorpe told him easily.

“None of this goes on the air until I give the word.” His eyes were hard, and close to hostile. “We're not going to give him a media free-for-all.”

“Understood,” Liv said calmly, then watched as Thorpe was handed a receiver.

“We'll ring.” Daniels signaled one of his men. “Keep him talking as long as you can. If things start to get out of hand, we'll take over.”

Thorpe nodded and heard Morrow pick up the phone on the first ring.

“T.C. ?”

“Yeah. How you doing, Ed?”

Morrow laughed shakily. “Terrific. You going to do a report on me?”

“That's right. You want to tell me why you're up there and what it'll take to get you down?”

“You remember that day we sat in my office and talked about the Birds when Wyatt was held up in a meeting?”

“Sure.” Thorpe caught a glimpse of Daniels's grim face as he held a headset to his ear. “End of last summer. The Orioles were fighting for first place.” He drew out another cigarette and flicked on his lighter. “Seen any games this year?”

Liv could hear the echo of the frantic laugh come through the receiver. “I've already dropped twenty-five big ones on games this year.”

“That's rough. You need money?” Thorpe's eyes were locked on Daniels's now. “Is that what you want for Wyatt's release?”

“I'll tell you all about it T.C., but just you. You come in and do one of your interviews right here. I've got an exclusive for you.”

Liv could hear snatches, and what she heard was enough to have her grabbing Thorpe's arm in panic. Ignoring her, Thorpe kept his eye on Daniels.

“Too many hostages,” Daniels said in an undertone.

“That'll give you one more hostage, Ed,” Thorpe replied easily. “Doesn't seem like a very good deal.”

“No, no, I see your point.” Morrow's voice shook with nerves. “Maybe I'll send out the two aides for you. If you tell me you're coming up. You're as good as your word, aren't you, T.C. ?”

“Two for one,” Thorpe mused, watching Daniels steadily while Liv gripped his arm tighter and shook her head. “But then, the aides don't mean much, do they?”

There was a long pause. Liv could feel the sweat beginning to trickle down her back.

“You come up, alone, no back-up, and I'll send out Wyatt. How's that for a deal? A one-time offer, T.C. You're not going to turn down a scoop like this, are you?”

“I'll have to check back with the big shots at CNC, Ed. Give me ten minutes. I'll get back to you.”

“Ten minutes,” Morrow agreed, and cut the connection.

Liv grabbed Thorpe's jacket and turned him to face her. “No.” She shook her head frantically while her eyes mirrored her fear. “You can't. You can't think of doing such a thing. Thorpe, you can't.”

“Hold on a minute.” His voice was calm and practical as he set her aside. “Well?” he said simply to Daniels.

“Number one, we can't ask you to cooperate.”

“So you're not asking,” Thorpe countered. “What then?”

“People I have to talk to before we consider making an exchange like his.” Daniels rubbed a hand over his mouth. He didn't like the taste of it. But there was a senator involved. Touchy, he thought. Very touchy.

“Then start talking to them,” Thorpe suggested.

Daniels sent him a long look. “You'd better do some thinking while I do. It's not going to be a cozy interview.”

“Thorpe.” Liv's voice quavered with panic. She knew that look in his eyes. “No.”

Thorpe took her gently by the shoulders. “Liv,” he began.