'Dennis, we got a little problem here.'

'Fucking right we got a problem. Make'm get back!'

'Those officers are Highway Patrolmen, Dennis. I'm with the Bristo Camino Police Department. They don't work for me.'

'Bullshit!'

'I can tell you what they're going to say.'

'Fuck what they say! If they come over that wall, people are going to die! I've got hostages in here!'

'If I tell these guys that you're being cooperative, they'll be more inclined to cooperate with you. You understand that, don't you? Everyone out here is concerned that the civilians in there with you are okay. Let me speak with Mr. Smith.'

'I told you they're fine.'

Talley sensed that everything inside wasn't as Rooney claimed, and that concerned him. Most hostage takers agreed to let their hostages say a few words because they enjoyed taunting the police with their control of the hostage; it made them feel powerful. If Rooney wouldn't let the Smiths talk, then he must be frightened of what they might say.

'Tell me what's wrong, Dennis.'

'Nothing's wrong! I'll let the sonofabitch talk when I get good and goddamned ready. I'm in charge of this shit, not you!'

Dennis sounded so stressed that Talley backed off. If anything was wrong in the house, he didn't want to make the situation worse. But having pressed Rooney for a concession, he had to get something or he would lose credibility.

'Okay, Dennis, fair enough for now, but you've still got to give me something if you want the patrolmen to back off. So how about this: You tell me who you have in there. Just tell me their names.'

'You know who owns the house.'

'We heard that those kids might have some friends over.'

'If I tell you, will you get these assholes to back off?'

'I can do that, Dennis. I just got word from their commander. He'll go along.'

Rooney hesitated, but then he answered.

'Walter Smith, Jennifer Smith, and Thomas Smith. There's no one else in here.'

Talley muted the phone again.

'Jorgy, tell the CHiPs to back off the wall. Tell them to find a position with a view of the house, but they can't be on the wall. Have them do it now.'

'Rog.'

Talley waited as Jorgenson spoke into his mike, then he went back to his phone.

'Dennis, what do you see?'

'They're pulling back.'

'Okay. We made it work, me and you. We did something here, Dennis. Way to go.'

Talley wanted Rooney to feel as if they had accomplished something together. Like they were a team.

'Just keep them away. I don't like them that close. They come over that wall, people are going to die in here. Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm not a guy you can fuck with.'

'I'll give you my word about that right now. We're not coming in there. We won't come over that wall unless we think you're hurting someone. I want to be up front about that. If it looks like you're going to hurt those people, we'll come in without warning.'

'I'm not going to hurt anyone if you stay away. That's all there is to it.'

'That's the way to play it. Just be cool.'

'You want these people, Talley? You want them safe and sound? Right now?'

Talley knew that Rooney was about to make his first demand. It could be as innocent as a pack of cigarettes or as outrageous as a phone call from the President.

'You know that I do.'

'I want a helicopter with a full tank of gas to take us to Mexico. If I get the helicopter, you get these people.'

During his time with SWAT, Talley had been asked for helicopters, jet aircraft, limousines, buses, cars, and, once, a flying saucer. All negotiators were trained that certain demands were non-negotiable: Firearms, ammunition, narcotics, alcohol, and transportation. You never allowed a subject the hope of escape. You kept him isolated. That was how you broke him down.

Talley responded without hesitation, making his voice reasonable, but firm, letting his tone assure Rooney that the refusal wasn't the end of the world, and wasn't confrontational.

'Can't do that, Dennis. They won't give you a helicopter.'

Rooney's voice came back strained.

'I've got these people.'

'The Sheriffs won't trade for a helicopter. They have their rules about these things. You could ask for a battleship, but they won't give you that, either.'

When he spoke again, Rooney sounded weaker.

'Ask them.'

'It can't even land here, Dennis. Besides, Mexico isn't freedom. Even if you had a helicopter, the Mexican police would arrest you as soon as it landed. This isn't the Old West.'

Talley wanted to change the subject. Rooney would brood about the helicopter now, but Talley thought that he could give him something else to think about.

'I saw the security tape from the minimart.'

Rooney hesitated, as if it took him a moment to realize what Talley was saying, then his voice was anxious and hopeful.

'Did you see that Chinaman pull a gun? Did you see that?'

'It played out just the way you said.'

'None of this would've happened if he hadn't pulled that gun. I damn near shit my pants.'

'Then none of this was premeditated. That's what you're saying here, right? That you didn't premeditate what happened?'

Rooney wanted to be seen as the victim, so Talley was sending the subtle message that he sympathized with Rooney's situation.

'We just wanted to rob the place. I'll admit that. But, fuck, here comes the Chinaman pulling a gun. I had to defend myself, right? I wasn't trying to shoot him. I was just trying to get the gun away so he couldn't shoot me. It was an accident.'

The adversarial edge disappeared from Rooney's voice. Talley knew that this was the first indication that Rooney was beginning to see Talley as a collaborator. Talley lowered his voice, sending a subtle cue that this was just between them.

'Can the other two guys hear me?'

'Why do you want to know that?'

'I understand that they might be there with you, so you don't have to respond to what I'm about to say, Dennis. Just listen.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I know you're worried about what will happen to you because the officer was shot. I've been thinking about that, so I've got a question. Was anyone else in there shooting besides you? Just a yes or no, if that's all you can say.'

Talley already knew the answer from Jorgenson and Anders. He let the question hang in the air. He could hear Rooney breathe.

'Yes.'

'Then maybe it wasn't your bullets that hit the officer. Maybe it wasn't you who shot him.'

Talley had gone as far as he could. He had suggested that Rooney could beat the rap by shifting the blame to one of the other subjects. He had given Rooney a doorway out. Now, he had to back off and let Rooney brood over whether or not to step through.

'Dennis, I want to give you my cell phone number. That way you can reach me whenever you want to talk. You won't have to shout out the window.'

'That'd be good.'

Talley gave him the number, told Rooney that he was going to take another break, then once more backed his car out of the cul-de-sac. Leigh Metzger was waiting for him on the street outside of Mrs. Peña's home. She wasn't alone. Talley's wife and daughter were with her.

Santa Monica Hospital Emergency Room

Santa Monica, California

Fifteen years ago

Officer Jeff Talley, shirtless but still wearing his blue uniform pants even though they are ripped and streaked with blood, notices her calves first. He is a sucker for shapely calves. Talley is sitting on a gurney in the emergency room, his torn hand packed in a bowl of ice to reduce the swelling and kill the pain while he waits for them to take him to X-ray. His partner, a senior patrol officer named Darren Consuelo, is currently locking Talley's gun, radio, Sam Browne, and other equipment in the trunk of their patrol car for safekeeping.