“Yes, he was.”
“Can you tell me, specifically, what for?”
“That would be a breach of his patient confidentiality. If you’d like to present me with a warrant, I’d be happy to release his records to you and have a conversation with you then.”
Nathan slapped his hand on the top of the car. The searing heat fueled his frustration.
“Dr. Freeman, I understand your need to wrap this all up in a nice little package. I also understand patient confidentiality issues and HIPAA violations and such. But let me explain to you that John Samuals is currently holding his entire family hostage. Yes, that would be his wife and six children, and he’s armed with a shotgun at this very moment. Oh, and there seems to be a man named Lucent involved. So if your conscience is fine with him killing these individuals, which he is currently threatening to do, without aiding me in any way, then I guess we can end this conversation until I get you that warrant you requested.”
“He says Lucent is there?”
“Yes, and that Lucent is telling him to kill his family.”
“That’s a problem.”
“No kidding.”
He heard a heavy sigh on the line. Nathan kept quiet, hopefully allowing the silence to give her mind time to make a favorable decision.
“Can I get some kind of documentation after this is all over, no matter what the outcome, detailing these exigent circumstances which are forcing my cooperation with you due to a life-and-death situation?”
“Yes, ma’am. I will get you an FBI letterhead memorandum that will most certainly protect you.”
“Lucent is not real. He’s a hallucination. He’s the one that prompted John’s suicide attempt.”
“How did he try to kill himself?”
“He stabbed himself in the abdomen. Knives are a fascination for him. We started him on some antipsychotics. Under the medication, the hallucinations were kept at bay, and we discharged him home. Obviously, he’s not taking them anymore.”
“It may not be his fault. The family has run into significant financial difficulty.”
“You’re right. These medications do tend to be expensive.”
“Do you have any advice on how to handle him?”
“He takes Lucent’s advice very seriously. If Lucent is telling him to kill his family, I’d be very worried about that. You’re not going to be able to control the hallucination unless you medicate him.”
“All right, we’d appreciate you keeping close to the phone. Please give this deputy a number where we can reach you at all times if we need more help.”
“Certainly.”
Nathan handed the phone back. A tall man with bright blue eyes and military-cut blond hair in full SWAT dress approached him, extending his hand.
“Lee Watson, TAC team leader.”
“Nice to have you here. Do you know Sheriff George Benson?” Lee nodded, and they shook hands. “I’m Nathan Long, FBI negotiator. I’ve got a handful of agents with me spread out in a loose perimeter right now. The sheriff’s got himself and a couple of deputies, one of whom is injured. He caught the edge of a shotgun blast and needs to be evacuated.”
“Okay. We’ll make that our number-one priority right now. We passed a staged ambulance on the road in. We’ll get the wounded officer to them. The situation is too active for them to come up here. Sheriff Benson,” Watson said, “if it’s all right with you, I’d like to start deploying my guys in a perimeter around the house and have my snipers start scouting out some good observation posts. I’ll have my entry team grab a couple of shields, and we’ll get your wounded man safely to a vehicle and bus him out to the ambulance.”
“Thank God. Just let me know what you need.”
Watson clapped his shoulder. “Don’t worry. My guys can handle the evacuation of your wounded deputy.”
Nathan lowered the brim of his sweaty cap, shielding his eyes from the sun.
“Actually, Sheriff, I need you to put together a box of sandwich fixings, soda, water, and juice boxes for the kids. Get a bag of ice in there, too. I don’t want these sandwiches already made. I want them to have to do it. And throw in some chips and candy.”
“I’ll get to work on that.” Benson walked away and signaled a few of his deputies closer.
Watson squawked something brief into his radio, and Nathan saw an eager young SWAT member sprint over to their tactical vehicle. Watson gave his secondary a brief but meaningful order, and he was off in no time.
“I haven’t gotten the full details yet, Nathan. Can you fill me in?”
“John Samuals has taken hostage his wife and six children. He’s suffering a psychotic break, likely brought on by his financial difficulties and inability to purchase his antipsychotic meds. It all started when the sheriff’s deputies arrived this
A.M
. to evict him. Apparently the bank has foreclosed on the property. He says he wants to stay in his home. He produced a shotgun and cranked off a few rounds, most likely birdshot. As you know, one deputy suffered minor injuries. I think that’s the least of our problems.”
“We need to try to get eyes and ears,” Watson said.
Nathan watched as several of Watson’s team members set up a perimeter. “Our major issue is Lucent.”
“Who’s that?”
“This is the not-so-good part. Evidently, Lucent is an imaginary friend, a hallucination. About a year ago, Lucent told John to kill himself and the subject actually stabbed himself in the gut. Now, Lucent is telling him to kill his family. According to his psychiatrist, John loves knives. She says Lucent is as real to him as you and I standing here in front of one another, and we need to be very concerned about Samuals’ interaction with him.”
Watson nodded in silent concern. “This is bad. Hallucinations and a knife as a preferred weapon are a silent, deadly combination.”
“Agreed.”
“What’s your approach?”
“I’m going to try to trade the three youngest children for food. We’ve got an infant in there who may be in the early stages of heat exhaustion. I’m hoping when they have to work together to get lunch made, he’ll look upon them more favorably, be less likely to want to hurt them. Also, so far it looks like he’s letting the family roam freely in the home. We need to watch for opportunities to coax them out individually. I don’t want your guys to approach the residence without approval, but they are free to coax these people out with hand signals, smiles, chocolate bars, whatever.”
One of Watson’s boys approached. “Nathan, this is Ryan. He’s the entry team leader.”
He gave a quick nod to Nathan before turning to Lee. “Sarge, there’s a window on the north side with good cover up to about the last three feet. Oscar was able to approach without being detected, and he slipped a microphone inside. Snipers say there hasn’t been anyone in that room since they set up. All we’re picking up on the mike is the voice of one male. He seems to be talking to himself or to someone who’s not talking back.”
“What’s he saying?” Watson asked.
“‘Please, Lucent, don’t make me. I don’t want to kill them.’”
Watson adjusted his Kevlar vest, and his shirt remained unmarred by sweat stains. Nathan’s eyebrows hitched upward.
How does this man not sweat?
Lee shielded his eyes from the sun and glanced at Nathan. “Looks like your assessment is on target.”
Nathan watched as three more of Lee’s men, two protected by heavy shields, the third man behind, reached the injured deputy and dragged him to the edge of the perimeter. Once at a safe distance, the team put him in a car for transport to the ambulance down the road.
John Samuals remained quiet.
Watson pressed his ear piece tighter and nodded.
“Is your deputy okay?” Nathan asked.
Ryan smirked, amused at the radio transmission as well. “Yeah. Poor guy wanted to be Superman. He didn’t want to leave the scene. The sheriff had to give him a direct order.”
“Well, I’m sure he’ll get a nice medal for that. Do we have our building sketch done yet?” Watson asked.
“Yes, sir. It’s posted on the backside of our vehicle.”
“Good job. We’ll need to plan to go in heavy with shields and masks. Figure out where Joey needs to set up with his gas gun in order to get that whole house with CS.” Watson turned, surveying the crew. “Sheriff! Got a second?”
“Just wrappin’ up the food. What’s up?”
“Sheriff, as you know, our subject has already used deadly force against one of your deputies, and we don’t have any reason to believe that he won’t react the same if we attempt to make entry. Can I give my shooters permission to take this guy out if the opportunity presents itself?”
“Nathan? What’s your assessment?”
He was relieved Benson was willing to listen to more than one point of view considering his own man had been shot. Tactical decisions were best made by a group of seasoned officers rather than one stressed out sheriff who wanted to ensure his injured deputy got justice.
“Sheriff, I agree with Watson. I think this guy will shoot right now if we attempt to make entry. But the negotiations have just begun, and he’s expecting a call from me. As long as I feel like Samuals is actively participating in the process, I have a hard time agreeing with flipping this guy’s switch at the first chance. I want to keep him talking, use the SWAT team to observe his movements, and maybe come up with a solid plan to catch him off guard and take him down without killing him. However, at the first moment I perceive he is giving up on the negotiations and becoming unpredictable, I will let Lee know, and he can give the order to shoot on sight.”
“What do you think, Watson?” Benson asked.
“We can work within those parameters. Ryan?”
“I’m clear.”
“Okay then.” Benson grabbed a blue-and-white handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped the sweat from his brow. “Those are the rules of engagement right now. Watson, unless your shooters think someone’s life is in imminent jeopardy, they will not shoot. Let’s give our FBI negotiator some time to get inside this guy’s head.”
“We should try to get the bank manager on the phone. Have him talk directly to Samuals and let him know he can keep his home,” Watson offered.
Nathan folded his arms across his chest. “No. Absolutely not. What do we do when John finds out he’s lying and goes ballistic? Besides, I don’t want him talking to someone he’s contentious with. One of my guys will get in touch with a bank representative and try to work up a real relief plan on John’s behalf. Maybe if he can get him a couple of months’ worth of deferred payments, he’ll put his gun down. Then we just take him into custody on the attempted murder charge for shooting the sheriff’s deputy, and he goes away forever.”
A sheriff’s deputy came to a quick stop in his marked unit near the command post. He leapt out of the driver’s seat and then scrambled to retrieve something from his trunk. The cumbersome box made it difficult for him to see the ground and he stumbled as he ran.
“There was a mini-mart close by. Had everything you asked for,” the man said, placing the box on top of the hood of the car.
“Looks like it’s time to talk to Mr. Samuals,” Nathan prompted.
Benson inhaled and held his breath.
“Ryan, get your team into position.” The young man trotted off. “Stand by.” Watson spoke in even soft tones into his tactical mike confirming that his team was positioned. He turned back to Nathan. “Ready when you are.”
Nathan dialed. Samuals answered on the first ring.
“John, everyone okay in there?”
“Yeah.”
“I have the food and drinks for your family as I promised. I want you to help me out with an act of good faith. John, I want you to put the three youngest children, including the infant, on the front porch. I’m concerned for their health in this heat. I’ll send some nice police officers up there to get them. Then they’ll leave you the box of food. Okay?”
Nathan waited. John talked in pressured speech, though Nathan only made out muffled garble as he must have placed his hand over the receiver. Nathan tapped his fingers against his chest.
“Lucent doesn’t think that’s a good idea.”
“John, it’s your family. You need to make the decision. Think about what’s best for your kids. I’m really concerned about your baby boy. I want to get him out of the heat. Don’t let Lucent force you to do something that will hurt your kids.”
More silence … everlasting silence. The black-haired girl peeked out the left, first-floor window.
Peek-a-boo.
“All right. He says it’s fine.”
“Great. Just do everything slowly. All right?”
Samuals had disconnected the phone.
“You ready?” Nathan asked Watson.
“Absolutely.”
Grabbing the box of food, Watson approached several of his comrades. Watson spoke into the mike wired to his ear and circled three fingers in the air behind the other hand, which was stretched out flat. Three SWAT members ran over to Watson’s position, one of them hefting a ballistic shield weighing more than seventy pounds. The importance of his job was set in his face. Every man behind him was counting on his stamina and ability to remain steadfast, especially under fire. He was the bullet catcher, and he wouldn’t let them down.
Watson passed the food off to Ryan, who took the middle position. The third man was there to cover Ryan because his hands would be full. The three set off for the front door at a steady pace. Taking it too slowly would put extra strain on the lead man. The front man stopped a couple of feet from the door, and then the small unit swung to the right, taking up position along the exterior wall, crouching beneath the picture window before inching closer to the screen.
From Nathan’s vantage point, he could see a woman framed in the doorway. He grabbed his binoculars for a closer look. The right sleeve of her dress was torn and several long scratches made their way down the length of her arm.
Scratches or knife marks?
Nathan couldn’t be sure from this distance. The screen door opened, and out through the crack was borne a two-year old and a young woman holding a small baby, struggling to keep him contained in her arms.
Ryan set the box of food down to the side of the shield. When his hands were free, he lunged forward in a slow but sure motion to brush the threesome back behind him.