Hostage

Mikkelson said, 'Okay. Here they come. The guy we think is Rooney entered a few minutes ago, then left. Here where the tape picks up, it's maybe five minutes later.'

'Okay.'

A sharp-featured white male matching De

'Is that Rooney's brother?'

'The third guy is about to come in. The third guy looks like Rooney.'

A third white male stepped inside before Mikkelson finished. Talley knew the third man was Rooney's brother from the resemblance, though Kevin was shorter, thi

Talley studied their expressions and the way they carried themselves. Rooney was a good-looking kid, with eyes that were hard but uncertain. He walked with an arrogant, rolling gait. Talley guessed that he was posturing, but couldn't yet tell if Rooney was posturing for others or himself. Kevin Rooney shuffled from foot to foot, his eyes flicking from De

'We have an ID on the big guy?'

'No, sir.'

'Was the camera hidden?'

'Hanging off the ceiling big as a wart on a hog's ass, and these guys didn't even bother to wear masks.'

Talley watched the video without a feeling of co

Seeing those murders had left Talley so shaken that he had spent the next two months thinking about resigning.

The events in Kim's Minimart happened as quickly: Rooney lifted his shirt to expose a gun, then vaulted over the counter. Kim stood with a gun of his own. Talley was relieved that Rooney had told the truth about Kim having a gun. It wouldn't help Rooney in court, but Talley could use what he was seeing to play on Rooney's sense of being the victim of bad luck. That was all Talley cared about right now, finding things he could use to manipulate De

The struggle between Rooney and Junior Kim lasted only seconds, then Kim staggered backward, dropped his pistol, and slumped against the Slurpee machine. Rooney was clearly surprised that Kim had been shot. He jumped back over the counter and ran to the door. The larger man didn't move. Talley found that odd. Kim had just been shot and Rooney was ru

Mikkelson said, 'What's he doing?'

'He's watching Kim die.'

The big man's pasty Pillsbury Doughboy face creased.

Mikkelson said, 'Jesus, he's smiling.'

Talley's back and chest prickled. He stopped the tape, then rewound it until the unknown subject leaned forward on his hand.

'We need to confirm that the younger guy is Kevin Rooney, and we need to ID the third subject. Make hard-copy prints from the tape. Show them to Rooney's landlord, his neighbors, and the people at his job. We might get a fast ID on the third guy that way.'

Mikkelson glanced at Dreyer uncertainly.

'Ah, Chief, how do we make prints from the tape?'

Talley cursed under his breath. In Los Angeles, an officer would take the tape to the Scientific Investigations Division in Glendale, then return an hour later with however many prints were needed. Talley thought that the Palmdale PD probably had the necessary equipment to do that job, but Palmdale was a long drive in Friday-night traffic.

'You know the computer store in the mall?'

'Sure. They sell PlayStations.'

'Call first. Tell them we have a VHS videotape and ask if they know how to grab and print a frame. If they can, take it there. If they can't, call the camera store in Santa Clarita. If they can't help, call Palmdale.'

Talley pointed out the unknown subject's hand resting on the counter. He turned to Cooper and Frost.

'See here where he put his hand? I want you two to meet the Sheriff's homicide team at Kim's, and tell them about this. They'll be able to lift a good set of prints.'

'Yes, sir.'

Talley told them to get to it, then headed back out to the street and climbed into his car. He considered his impressions of Rooney from the videotape and from their conversation. Rooney wanted to be 'understood,' but he also wanted to be seen in exaggerated heroic terms: Tough, manly, and dominant. Talley decided that Rooney was a low-self-esteem personality who craved the approval of others while seeking to control his environment. He was probably a coward who covered his lack of courage with aggressive behavior. Talley decided that he could use Rooney's needs to his advantage. He checked his watch. It was time.

Talley opened his phone and punched the redial button. The phone in Smith's house rang. And rang. On the tenth ring, Rooney still hadn't answered. Talley grew worried, imagining a mass murder though he knew it was more likely that Rooney was just being a dick. He radioed Jorgenson.

'Jorgy, anything happening at the house?'

Jorgenson was still hunkered behind his car in the body of the cul-de-sac.

'Nada. It's quiet so far. I would've called you if I heard anything.'

'Okay. Stand by.'

Talley pressed the redial button again. This time he let the phone ring an even dozen times before he closed the phone. He went back on the radio.

'You hear anything from the house?'

'I thought I heard the phone ringing.'

'See any movement?'

'No, sir. It's quiet as a clam.'

Talley wondered why Rooney was refusing to answer the phone. He had seemed agreeable enough during their first contact. Talley keyed his radio again.

'Who's on with the CHiPs?'

The California Highway Patrol officers had been used to supplement his own people on the perimeter of the house. They worked off their own communication frequency, distinct from the Bristo freq.

'I am.'

'Tell them to advance to the property lines. I don't want them exposed to fire, but I want Rooney to see them. Put them at the east and west walls, and at the back wall.'

'Rog. I'll take care of it.'

If Rooney wouldn't answer the phone, Talley would force Rooney to call him.

The money changed things. De