The man opened the passenger side door. He reached inside, scooped up the little boy, then ran off, leaving both doors open. He didn't look back at Charlene's car. As she pulled up behind his abandoned vehicle, he ran into an alley.

The sirens were really close. The cops would catch this guy for sure.

Without discussing it, Charlene and Gertie both opened their doors, got out of the car, and chased after him.

The man tripped and fell. The little boy cried out as his father landed on top of him. The man frantically got back up, grabbed his son's hand, and pulled him to his feet. He spun around and saw Charlene and Gertie standing in the alley entrance.

"He's my fucking son!" the man wailed at them.

Charlene took a step forward. "I know you love him. Just let him go, okay? The cops are almost here. It's over."

The man reached behind his back.

It's gonna be a gun, it's gonna be a gun, it's gonna be a gun, thought Charlene.

It was indeed a gun. The man pulled his son close and pressed the gun against his head.

Charlene fought back a scream.

"I'll do it!" the man warned. "I'll kill both of us before I let anybody take him again!"

Charlene had absolutely no idea what to do. She was not a trained negotiator. She could completely mess this up if she said the wrong thing. She wanted to believe that the man was bluffing, that he'd never consider murdering his own son and then committing suicide, and that if she and Gertie just stood there the cops would quickly take over. But the man sure as hell didn't seem like he was bluffing. He looked legitimately ready to pull the trigger.

The boy was crying.

"You're scaring him," said Charlene. Had that been a stupid thing to say? She wasn't sure.

She glanced at Gertie, desperately hoping that Gertie wouldn't go for her gun. Gertie stood motionless, watching the man in horror. If she was planning to shoot him, she was doing an amazing job of not giving away her intention.

"This is fucked up," Charlene told the man. "No matter how bad things are in your life, and I can tell they're really bad, this is not the way to handle it. You get that, right?"

Was she being patronizing? She didn't want the man to feel like she was talking down to him. If he blew out his son's brains, would it be her fault? What the hell was she supposed to say to him?

"He's not going back to her," said the man. Tears began to stream down his face.

He was still talking. That was good. She just needed to keep him talking until the cops could get a sniper or something in place.