“Have SWAT secure the perimeter and see if you can get a visual on the guy in the event you need a tactical solution. Then let the negotiation team do their work. It will take time, but that’s a good thing.” Giving time time was an idea an experienced negotiator at the NYPD had taught him. “The longer we draw this out the more chance we have of everyone walking away from this thing alive.”
A lot of people considered negotiators and behavioral scientists to be the social workers of law enforcement. The hand holders. The “let’s talk this out” or “this UNSUB was probably abused as a child” types. As if that meant they were somehow less dedicated to putting the bad guys behind bars or getting hostages released without harm.
Stats were pretty convincing that when crisis negotiators got involved tempers had time to cool and things resolved with less violence and harm to those involved.
The police chief swallowed audibly. “There’s a little kid in there…”
Dominic’s grip on the phone tightened. “I realize that, but as tempting as it is to rush in with guns blazing, that’s the most dangerous thing you can do for the child at this point. If the situation deteriorates, you’ll have that tactical team in place ready to respond.”
Dominic never failed to see the futility of the hostage-takers’ actions. What did they think would happen? That the cops would leave them alone while they held their family at gunpoint? That rape and enslavement would be fine as long as they didn’t bother anyone else?
A good negotiator had to put all judgment aside, to convince a hostage-taker—usually a person in crisis—that life was still worth living, and that although things seemed hopeless right then, there was still hope. It got considerably harder when someone committed a capital crime in a death penalty state.
If law enforcement were forced to go tactical then mother and child could easily wind up dead in the crossfire. But if crisis negotiators did their job effectively there was no need for the flash bang or storming the barricades. Getting someone to release their captives and lay down their arms was the most empowering thing imaginable.
The chief seemed hesitant. “I’ll do it your way, but the mayor isn’t going to like it.”
“Tell him to butt out. This is a law enforcement matter, not a political one.”
“Her.” The cop corrected. “I’ll tell her, but she probably isn’t going to like it.”
Getting local politicians and the brass to cooperate in a cohesive manner was often challenging, and lack of communication between various agencies could dangerously undermine the negotiator’s position.
Dominic rolled his shoulder. “Tell the mayor to call me if she wants any clarification on negotiation tactics.” He rang off, knowing the police chief had his hands full with a set of circumstances he wasn’t used to dealing with. Unlike Dominic, who dealt with some variant of this situation on an almost daily basis. It didn’t mean all siege or hostage situations could be run the same way with the same results. Emotions drove events and so did the unpredictable actions of everyone involved. Humans were notoriously fickle. Hence the need for trained negotiators who didn’t react or lash out in frustration and who knew how to de-escalate tension even when lives were on the line.
He grabbed his water bottle again and took another large gulp, wishing he hadn’t finished off the night with a few whiskey chasers. Beer was one thing. Fifteen-year-old Glenfiddich was something else.
He checked the wire, but there was no update on the UNSUB in Calvin’s murder. The image of Ava Kanas challenging the Director of the FBI to delve deeper into Van’s death flashed through his brain. The woman had cajones even if she lacked subtlety. He picked up the phone and called Fredericksburg and was put through to Ray Aldrich almost immediately.
“Any updates on the shooter?” Dominic asked.
Aldrich sighed. “Nothing that points us to an identity. There’s a basement parking garage, and we believe they drove away before you even got there on foot. No surveillance cameras anywhere in that building or in the vicinity.”
“What about Van’s death?” Ava Kanas’s conviction had been compelling, but maybe neither of them wanted to admit they’d failed a man who’d mentored them both.
“I’ve been over the notes again but can’t find anything that looks suspicious.”
“Could I look at the files?” Dominic closed his eyes as he made the request.
“You sure you want to do that?”
Did he want to view the death scene and autopsy photographs of one of his best friends? No, he didn’t. “I might be able to help.”
“Okay, I’ll send you the access information but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Aldrich.
“What about Agent Kanas? How’s she holding up after the shooting?”
Aldrich sighed. “She’s a good agent, but she’s like a dog with a bone and doesn’t know when to let go. I put her on a lead we were sent from the New Mexico Field Office, which should keep her busy for a few days or weeks.”
So, she’d probably be even more frustrated. “Do you believe her?” asked Dom.
“Honestly? No. I think she’s overwrought and upset.”
Ava Kanas did not seem like the overwrought type. She seemed determined and passionate.
“She and Van were close?” Dominic asked.
“Not intimate like you suggested yesterday, at least, not as far as I’m aware.”
Dominic winced. Not his finest moment and probably reflected more his thoughts regarding Agent Kanas than anything else. She was very attractive.
“But they were close. This is her FOA, and Van took her under his wing. I guess she imprinted on him in a big way.”
Van had done the same thing with Dominic over a decade ago. Dominic had never figured out why. Had he looked like such a newbie that Van had known he needed help? Probably.
Something about Ava Kanas’s conviction seemed deeper than that of a mentee’s reaction to a mentor’s death, but as Dominic sucked at relationships in general, what the hell did he know?
“I’m getting another call,” Aldrich said. “Thanks for taking a look at the files. I do not want to look like an idiot in front of the director.”