to herself to check into that. Maybe this wasn’t connected to the drug gang, Escalante and everything else that had happened in the past few months, starting with the attempted murder of the mayor. First rule of police work: don’t assume anything.
The ring on Becca’s cell phone blared “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.” She unhooked it from her waist and flipped it open. “Hilliard here.”
“A man’s threatening to jump off the new building going up at Carson and Quincy.”
“I can be there in fifteen.” She clipped the phone back on her belt and said to Carrie, “I have to leave. My partner will take the rest of your statement.” She quickly moved to Sam. “Can you finish? That was Sarge. I’ve got a jumper.”
“Sure,” Sam said as she started down the trail at a jog.
Two minutes later, as the crime-scene unit pulled into the parking lot, Becca peeled out, siren on, and raced toward the construction site, hoping she could make it before the person carried through with his threat. As a member of the negotiation team for the police department, she responded to hostage, suicide or barricade situations when the need arose. Her heart raced, with adrenaline pumping into her system as fast as her car sped toward her destination.
Becca drove to the cordoned-off area where the team leader had set up his command post. Beyond the barricade a crowd of people gathered with their attention glued to the top of the unfinished building. Leaping from her car, she went to her trunk and removed her body armor. The man threatening suicide stood on the top ledge ten stories up. Most likely he didn’t have a gun, but she never knew, so she always wore protection.
“What do we have, Sarge?” Becca asked the team leader, Carl Johnson, as she slipped on her body armor.
“I just got here myself a few minutes ago. Quinn Montgomery called 911 and is talking to the man right now. He’s the man’s boss, owns the company putting up this building. The first person on the scene was a uniform. He’s up there now with Montgomery.”
“Who’s the jumper?”
“David James. Don’t know much yet. Here, put this transmitter on.” Sarge handed her a beeperlike device to clip at her waist. “And use this earpiece. I’ll feed you information on the jumper as I get it.”
She rode the elevator to the top floor and hurried toward the stairs that led to the roof, nodding toward the uniformed officer standing guard at the door. Wind played with stray strands of her ponytail. The sun beat down, heating the concrete. She’d prefer to wear her sunglasses, but it was important for David James to see her eyes and connect with her. Instead, she squinted against the glare and headed toward a large man standing a few feet from the jumper, who was poised on the ledge. One step the wrong way and David would go down ten stories.
“David, I’ll help you any way I can. Just come down from there.”
Montgomery’s deep, baritone voice held a calm, soothing tone. Becca was impressed that even his stance didn’t convey any irritation or anger. She placed her hand on Montgomery’s arm to indicate she was present since his full attention was on his employee. He gave her a slight nod but kept his gaze trained on the jumper.
David glanced her way. His eyes widened. He took a small step to the side away from her and Montgomery, but didn’t say anything.
“Hello, David. I’m Becca Hilliard. I’m a negotiator with the police. I’d like to help you.”
“Help me? No one can!”
Becca moved next to Montgomery, aware that his gaze was now on her. The air sizzled with tension. “You don’t think anyone can help you?”
David’s attention darted to Montgomery then back to her. “My wife left me and took the kids. Can you bring her back and make everything like it was before—” He worked his mouth but no more words came out. Peering away, he clenched his hands at his sides.
Montgomery started to take a step toward David. Becca stopped him and shook her head. She mouthed the words, “Too dangerous.”
David looked at her again. “I want things back the way they were.”
“You sound frustrated.”
“I am. There was no warning. I came home yesterday and she was gone.” Anger lining his face, the jumper snapped his fingers, the gesture making him wobble.
Becca held her breath, knowing if he lost his balance neither she nor Montgomery would be able to reach the man in time. David steadied himself, his eyes growing round as he glimpsed the ground ten stories below. That was a good sign. Perhaps David hadn’t thought this suicide attempt completely through. In her earpiece Sarge told her he would see what he could discover about David’s wife.
“Do you plan to commit suicide, David?” she asked, having learned it was important to establish that up front.
He blinked. Montgomery stiffened beside her.
“I—I—don’t—” David cleared his throat. “Yes. I don’t have anything to live for. My family’s gone. I have bills I can’t pay.”
Becca started to push Montgomery back toward the stairs, where it was safer, when he interjected, “I’ll help you with that, David.”
The jumper’s gaze swung to the man next to her. Surprised by the offer, she, too, wanted to look at Montgomery, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off David James. Again she acknowledged the calm power behind Montgomery’s words, as though he knew instinctively what to do in a situation like this.
“You see, there are ways to help you, David. If you come down from there, we can talk about it.” Becca concentrated on keeping her voice even, nonthreatening.
For a long moment David didn’t say anything, then he shook his head as though trying to rid his mind of some image. “Help? I’ve tried talking to her. She won’t listen.”
“When you tried to talk to your wife, she wouldn’t listen?”
David slowly turned so he could face her, but he remained on the foot-wide ledge. “Yes. I left messages at her mother’s all evening and this morning for her to call me. She didn’t! I was late to work because of her.”
“Maybe she didn’t get your messages.”
Surprise flickered across his features. “You might be right! It would be just like her mother not to tell her about my calls. She hates me.”
“Come down here and we can try again.” Becca pulled out her cell phone, dangling it in front of him as though it were a prize he couldn’t possibly resist.
David glanced at the ground to his left, then back at Becca. She held her breath, hoping he would follow her gentle command. Sometimes that worked, especially if he hadn’t totally thought through committing suicide.
David shrugged. “Okay.”
Montgomery released a heavy sigh that mirrored her own feelings as she watched David climb down from the ledge and walk toward her, holding his hand out for the cell phone.
As he neared her, she began heading toward the stairs to the tenth floor below, saying, “Do you want me to make the call?” She wanted to get him
