Punish the Deed (25 page)

Forty-Seven

Shannon Witzer left her home that morning in total disgust. She was burned out over the same old argument with her husband Ben. She knew Ben was right: she could be making a higher salary working as a dental hygienist in a private office than she made at the clinic. But no matter how she tried, she could not make him understand why she wanted to stay where she was. He could not comprehend that the fulfillment she got from working at a non-profit agency with these children and these families far outweighed anything a paycheck could offer.

Maybe if he got a job, he’d understand. Ha! As long as I’m paying the bills, he isn’t ever going to get a job – at least not one that lasts more than a month. Maybe it’s time to move on. The constant bickering is depressing – and love? Well, he loves the way I support him but I think that’s about it. And now,
that’s not even good enough for him.

As she backed out of the driveway in her ratty old Nissan Sentra, she glared at his shiny new midnight-blue car. It wasn’t right that she brought home most of the income and yet she was the one that drove the old beater.

He told her he had to have a new, reliable car for a sales position. He had a multi-state territory and needed to be prompt with all his appointments. He got a decent salary plus commission. He’d worked the job for a month, raising Shannon’s hopes.
Maybe he has changed
, she’d thought.

On the Monday morning of the sixth week, he simply rolled over in bed and went back to sleep. He never quit. But he did not work a notice either. He never called his employer. He just stopped going to work and refused to answer the telephone. Shannon was stuck, again, with making excuses for him.

When she suggested that, since he wasn’t working, they should switch cars, he shoved her into the wall so hard it made her teeth rattle. On this morning, she drove up the street already dreading the end of the day when she’d have to return home.
Why do I come home? Why do I need to come home? Why don’t I just treat him like he treats his jobs and just not bother to show up? It would be so nice to not have to deal with him ever again.

Once she arrived at the clinic, she banished thoughts of home. She glanced at her list of patients for the day. Most of them were repeat visits. That was good. She had less fear to confront and defuse with the kids who’d seen her before. She picked up a clipboard, opened the door to the lobby and called for her first child.

Except for one little girl who cried the whole time she was in the chair, the morning was rather uneventful for Shannon. She’d cleaned many little mouths, provided at-home dental hygiene lessons and traded lots of hugs. The afternoon began as more of the same. Every time her mind started to drift to her home life, she focused on concentrating more on the child in front of her. If anything, she was more attentive to the children than usual. Seven-year-old Ricky Turpin swaggered into the room. His tough–little-boy act didn’t fool her. She knew he was a little scared but now, on his fourth visit, he trusted her. Examining the inside of his mouth, she said, “You haven’t been flossing every day, have you, Ricky?”

“I ran out of floss,” he said. “But I did brush every day.”

“I’ll give you extra floss in your goodie bag today. But I can tell you’ve been brushing. No sign of cavities. So, I’ll let you pick an extra toy from the barrel, okay?”

“Thank you, Ms. Shannon.”

Shannon jumped at the slamming of a door down the hall. No one slammed doors here. No one. No matter how angry they were. She patted Ricky on the shoulder and said, “Back in a sec.”

She stuck her head out of the examination room and looked down the hall. She saw the back of a man holding a wiggling little girl in a hard embrace. The little girl’s face was tensed tight in distress. She’d seen that look many times before on the faces of patients getting their first tooth cleaning or cavity filling. That didn’t bother Shannon but the noise the child was making was troublesome. A low-volume, high-pitched squealing that brought the word “terror” into Shannon’s mind. Shannon was not alarmed yet – she’d dealt with panicking children many times. Then the man turned around and she saw the gun.

For a moment, the weapon didn’t register. Then it seemed to be a bizarre hallucination. Finally, the reality sunk into her perception. Shannon ducked her head back into the examination room.

Her first concern was for her patient. She stood in front of Ricky and put an erect index finger in front of her lips. He aped her movement and nodded his head. She unfastened the over-sized bib from around his neck and reached out her hand to help him out of the chair. She crooked her finger and led him behind the panel where she went for protection during x-rays. She opened a cabinet and pointed. Ricky nodded his head and climbed inside. She knelt down and looked at him, holding her finger before her lips again. He waved goodbye. She gave him a big smile and shut the door.

She crept to the doorway and peered around the jamb. The man was only a few feet away now. He turned to look at her. Shannon summoned the courage to stand still and not waver. She looked him in the eye and said, “I can take her now,” and reached out her arms to the child.

Murphy jerked back, slamming into the wall, making the little girl squeak in surprise. “Shut up,” he said as he shook her. The little girl whined in response. He whacked the back of her head into the wall and screamed “Shut up!” into her ear. The child whimpered.

Shannon took a step forward, her arms outstretched. “Please let me have her. I can quiet her down.”

“Get away from me,” he said, sidling down the hall. “I was left behind. I have nothing to lose.”

Shannon persisted, arms reaching toward the child as she matched each of his steps with one of her own. “C’mon, let me quiet her down then we can talk about your problem and look for solutions.”

“Don’t you listen?” he screamed. “I was left behind!”

Heads popped out of examination rooms all along the corridor.

“I was left behind!” he yelled out again.

Shannon lowered her arms and spread them in a wide welcome like a statue of the Madonna. “Please, let me help you.”

Murphy took the muzzle of the gun away from the child’s head, bringing a smile to Shannon’s lips. Then he swung it around, pointing it at Shannon’s head. He pulled the trigger quickly before she was aware of her personal peril.

Splattering blood landed on the little girl’s legs. She screamed as if each drop was boiling water. Murphy sneered as Shannon collapsed to the floor. “Die, Goodie Two Shoes, die.”

Forty-Eight

The helicopter touched down on the roof of a hospital near the dental clinic. Uniformed patrolmen escorted Lucinda and Jake down the stairs and out to a waiting patrol car, whisking them to the location six blocks away. In the parking lot they were briefed on the situation and issued bulletproof vests.

“You said just one shot?” Lucinda asked.

“Yes, Lieutenant. Only one.”

“You have no idea who was shot?”

“No. For all we know, the shot went into the ceiling and there is no victim.”

“You’ve had no communication with the inside?”

“Just what we got from Officer Sykes before he evacuated the people in the lobby.”

“Where is he?” Jake asked.

“Over that way, with the other clinic patients.”

Rodney Sykes was crouched down in front of Derek, talking in earnest. “Excuse us, Officer Sykes,” Jake said. “I’m Special Agent Lovett and this is Lieutenant Pierce. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Rodney turned back to Derek. “You wait right here and don’t wander off. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He stood and the three of them stepped away from the others before beginning their conversation.

“There’s nothing about his physical appearance that doesn’t jive with the mug shot and description,” Rodney said.

“What about his mannerisms, his state of mind?” Lucinda asked.

“When I last saw him, he was very angry – very agitated. I think that’s my fault,” Rodney answered.

“Your fault?” Jake asked.

“Yeah. He was fine until I recognized him. A little edgy, nervous-like, but not angry. When he spotted me trying to get folks to slip outside, he lost it.”

“Did the shot happen before or after you left the building?”

“After. I hope to God he didn’t shoot that little girl,” Rodney said.

“The one he grabbed in the lobby?”

“Yeah,” Rodney said, hanging his head. “I keep thinking I could have, should have, done something to prevent her abduction.”

“Hey, the should’ves will drive you crazy, Officer,” Lucinda said. “You’ve got to let them go and concentrate on the lives you saved with your quick action.”

“Like it’s that easy,” he said.

Lucinda’s laugh contained no humor. “Yeah, tell me about it. Do you know how many people are in the back?”

“Not directly. But I did talk to the dental hygienist that he knocked to the floor in the lobby. She estimated there were seven kids in the back. As far as staff goes, she says there were two dentists, three hygienists, and four administrative staff: the receptionist, billing clerk, administrative assistant and the executive director.”

“Nine adults. Seven kids. Adds up to sixteen hostages,” Jake said.

“That many will be difficult for him to control,” Lucinda said. “He’ll probably be willing to get rid of some of them.”

“Maybe that’s what he was doing when we heard the gun shot.”

“I’d rather think he shot it into the ceiling to try to shut up the kids ’cause they’re driving him nuts. If they’re all whining, he may want an excuse to give them up.”

The door to the clinic opened a crack. All officers not already behind a barricade now dropped behind vehicles, drew their guns and pointed the barrels at the opening door. A white sheet flapped up and down through the crack.

Rodney Sykes rushed away from the two investigators. He went through the line of blue that stretched between the folks rescued from the building and the gathered force around the entrance. Lucinda and Jake moved closer to the door with their backs flat against the brick wall.

The commanding officer shouted through a megaphone, “Drop your weapons.”

“I don’t have any! I’m a dentist! I’m Dr. Hirschman,” the person at the door shouted.

“Come out the door with your hands on your head.”

“I can’t. If I don’t return, he’ll shoot that little girl.”

“What do you want?”

“I have a message.”

“What is it?”

“He is leaving something for you in the lobby. He had me drag it out here for you. Thirty seconds after I leave this door, you may come and get it. You will have one minute to get it and get out of the building or the little girl will be next.”

“What do you mean, ‘next’?”

“I can’t say any more.”

“What are you leaving for us?”

“I can’t tell you. Just come and get it. If you don’t, he’ll kill that little girl.”

“Dr. Hirschman?”

“I have to go now.” The white sheet pulled back inside.

The commander barked orders and men from the bomb squad approached the door in a squat walk holding metal high-impact shields. An officer jerked the door open and the men went inside.

“It’s a body,” came a shout from inside.

“Bring it out.”

Rodney and other officers encouraged the parents to turn the children’s eyes away from the door. He pressed Derek’s face into his chest and held him tight.

The bomb squad backed out. Two emergency medical technicians rushed inside. One grabbed the ankles, the other grabbed the shoulders and they carried the dental hygienist out to the parking lot. The ambulance driver raced up with a gurney. The crew got busy making a futile but necessary assessment of the woman’s non-existent vital signs. A shrill scream erupted from the staff member sequestered on the side with the patients and their parents. She struggled to get past the blue line but she was rebuffed.

Lucinda and Jake made a brief reconnaissance of the lobby area. Lucinda reached over the counter and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen off the receptionist’s desk. She wrote, “Call me, Charles,” and added her cell phone number.

“Out now!” the commander shouted over the megaphone. “Five, four, three...”

Lucinda and Jake emerged, shouting, “All clear.” They went back to their positions up against the wall.

The commanding operations officer waved an arm in the air, indicating that he wanted them to come over to his location. Lucinda and Jake crouched and ran across the pavement to the shelter of the armored truck to brief the commander.

“We saw no one,” Jake said.

“I heard some crying in the back when I wrote the note,” Lucinda said.

“What note?” the commander asked.

Lucinda described it and said, “I think he’ll see it when he comes out to make sure we all left the building.”

“Look around you. We have snipers on every rooftop. I’ve got an entry team on high alert. And you think we should wait for him to respond to your message?” the commander asked.

Lucinda stepped into his space. She used her two-inch height advantage to attempt to intimidate him. “Oh, I see, you’re a maximum force for any occasion kind of guy.”

Jake pushed in between them before the situation escalated. “Listen, Commander, we have sixteen hostages in there. Seven of them are children. We need to do everything we can to make sure that we don’t pick up the morning paper and read, ‘Seven Kids Dead.’ We need to try to negotiate those children out of there first.”

“So how long do you want to wait?” the commander asked.

“I don’t know,” Jake said. “We just need some time. We’ll reassess in an hour, okay?”

The commander looked him over. “An hour? I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to call my supervisor in D.C.?”

“Hell, no. Having one Feeb at the scene is more than I need. Okay. You’ve got an hour.”

Jake nodded and with a signal to Lucinda, they both jogged back to their position by the entrance. “You’re an out-of-towner here, Lucinda. Why are you trying to aggravate the local cops?”

“SWAT guys piss me off with their shoot first, ask questions later mentality.”

“Is that it or is it more personal?” Jake asked.

“Damn you, Jake. You know it is,” Lucinda said as the image of the tiny body of a dead little boy pressed its way to the front of her mind. “I don’t want to be connected to another child’s death. Please God, don’t let another child die.”