“Your life isn’t over. I’ll talk to the U.S. Attorney. I’ll tell them your wife emotionally abused you. I’ll make sure you get a good attorney who’ll enter a temporary insanity plea. You’ll do some time, but in a hospital not a prison. Let me help you.”

Reese shook his head. “You can’t bring my family back.”

Sam stood up. “But I can—”

“Stop!” He aimed the gun at her. “Just stop talking. I want my money. If I get the money, I won’t need your help. I won’t need anyone.”

Moving past the fear, Sam took a step toward him. “They’ve got this place surrounded by now. SWAT is making a plan. They’ll come in and take you out. They won’t care about you.” She took another step, reaching outside herself for the fortitude. “All they care about right now is saving me. I’m the only one who cares about you, Clarence.”

“You don’t care about me. I shot your partner.”

“He startled you. You thought he was robbing your house.”

“I never meant to shoot him.”

“I know.” She took another step. Three feet to go. “Give me the gun. I’ll call them. I’ll tell them you’re unarmed. No one has to get hurt.”

He eyed her warily. “Why do you want to help me? I took you hostage.”

“You were desperate. I understand that.” She thought of Nick, of what he’d said the night before, and forced herself to concentrate. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Think of your mother. She just lost Tiffany and the children. She doesn’t want to lose you, too.”

His shoulders sagged, a sob hiccupping through him. “Why couldn’t Tiffany be happy with me?”

“I don’t know, Clarence, but maybe you’ll have a chance to make someone else happy. I can help you. I promise I’ll help you.” She had him. She could see it in his eyes as she took yet another step toward him.

The door to the diner burst open, startling them both. “Freeze, police!” Two SWAT officers dressed in black riot gear aimed their weapons at Reese.

He spun toward them, waving the gun.

“No!” Sam screamed to the officers. “Hold your fire.” She held out her hand to Reese. “Give me the gun. I can still get you out of here alive.”

He shook his head, his eyes focused on the two officers at the door.

“Drop the gun, Reese,” one of them ordered.

“Clarence, I can help,” Sam pleaded.

“No you can’t.” His eyes shifted to her. “No one can.” He put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger.

The gunshot rang through the diner’s parking lot.

“Oh my God!” one of the reporters cried.