Vanish: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

Emerton, turning from the radio. “First four floors are now evacuated. They can’t move the critically ill patients from the upper floors, but we’ve got all nonessentials out of the building.”
    “Our perimeters?”
    “The inner is now established. They’ve got the barricades up in the hallway. We’re still awaiting more personnel to tighten the outer perimeter.”
    The TV above Hayder’s head was tuned to a local Boston station, with the sound turned off. It was a live news broadcast, the images startlingly familiar. That’s Albany Street, Maura thought. And there’s the command trailer where, at this moment, I’m being held prisoner. While the city of Boston was watching the drama play out on their TV screens, she was trapped at the center of the crisis.
    The sudden rocking of the trailer made her turn toward the door, and she saw a man step in. Another cop, she thought, noting the weapon holstered at his hip, but this man was shorter and far less imposing than Hayder. Sweat had shellacked sparse strands of brown hair to his bright red scalp.
    “Christ, it’s even hotter in here,” the man said. “Isn’t your AC on?”
    “It’s on,” said Emerton. “But it’s not worth shit. We didn’t have time to get it serviced. It’s hell on the electronics.”
    “Not to mention the people,” the man said, his gaze settling on Maura. He held out his hand to her. “You’re Dr. Isles, right? I’m Lieutenant Leroy Stillman. They’ve called me in to try to calm things down. See if we can resolve this without any violence.”
    “You’re the hostage negotiator.”
    He gave a modest shrug. “That’s what they call me.”
    They shook hands. Perhaps it was his unassuming appearance—the hang-dog face, the balding head—that put her at ease. Unlike Hayder, who seemed to be driven by pure testosterone, this man regarded her with a quiet and patient smile. As if he had all the time in the world to talk to her. He looked at Hayder. “This trailer is unbearable. She shouldn’t have to sit in here.”
    “You asked us to retain the witnesses.”
    “Yes, but not roast them alive.” He opened the door. “Just about anywhere else is going to be more comfortable than in here.”
    They stepped out, and Maura took in deep breaths, grateful to be out of that stifling box. Here, at least, there was a breeze. During the time she’d been sequestered, Albany Street had transformed into a sea of police vehicles. The driveway to the medical examiner’s building across the street was now hemmed in, and she didn’t know how she was going to get her car out of that parking lot. In the distance, beyond the police barricades, she saw satellite dishes, like blossoms perched on tall stalks above the news vans. She wondered if the TV crews were just as hot and miserable, sitting inside their vehicles, as she had been inside the command trailer. She hoped so.
    “Thank you for waiting,” said Stillman.
    “I was hardly given a choice.”
    “I know it’s an inconvenience, but we have to hold on to witnesses until we can debrief them. Now the situation’s contained, and I need intelligence. We don’t know her motives. We don’t know how many people might be in there with her. I need to know who we’re dealing with, so I can choose the right approach when she starts talking to us.”
    “She hasn’t yet?”
    “No. We’ve isolated the three phone lines into the hospital wing where she’s barricaded, so we control all her outgoing communications. We’ve tried calling in half a dozen times, but she keeps hanging up on us. Eventually, though, she’s going to want to communicate. They almost always do.”
    “You seem to think she’s like every other hostage taker.”
    “People who do this tend to behave in similar ways.”
    “And how many hostage takers are women?”
    “It’s unusual, I have to admit.”
    “Have you ever dealt with a female hostage taker?”
    He hesitated. “The truth is,” he said, “this is a first for me. A first for all of us. We’re confronting the rare exception here. Women just don’t take hostages.”
    “This one did.”
    He nodded. “And until I know more, I have to approach it the way I would any other hostage crisis. Before I negotiate with her, I need to know as much about her as possible. Who she is, and why she’s doing this.”
    Maura shook her head. “I don’t know that I can help you with that.”
    “You’re the last person who had any contact with her. Tell me