He hadn't shot the boy yet. That meant he didn't want to shoot the boy. But if the cops didn't heed Gertie's warning, he might very well do it.

"She can't have him," the man said.

Charlene could hear commotion outside of the alley. She didn't know what procedure the authorities would use for this sort of thing, but she did very much believe the man when he said that he'd pull the trigger if he saw so much as a cop's shadow. Did the cops understand this? The bustle just out of her line of sight was really making her anxious.

"Can my friend talk to them?" Charlene asked the man. "Make it clear how serious you are?"

The man nodded. "She's not a hostage."

Charlene turned to Gertie. "Don't let them come in here."

Gertie hurried out of the alley.

"They're not going to try to take you by surprise," Charlene promised. "Now you should let your son go."

"No."

"What's his name?"

"None of your fucking business." There was snot pouring over his mouth, but he didn't have a free hand to wipe it away.

Maybe it was time to lie. "My father is a lawyer," Charlene said. "A fantastic one. If you let him go, and let the police take you away peacefully, I promise he'll get you the best deal possible, pro bono. He's good. He won't make this problem go away, but he'll make it better."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

For one very brief moment Charlene thought she'd actually talked the man out of his murder/suicide. But then he shook his head. "I've already gone through the courts. They took him away from me before this. I don't care if your dad is Atticus Finch. He's not going to fix this."

Atticus Finch had lost the case he was known for, but this was not the time to point out the flaw in the man's literary reference.

Charlene wondered what the police were doing. Getting a sniper into place? Waiting impatiently for Charlene to talk him out of pulling the trigger? How the hell had she gotten herself into this? She was a restaurant server!

She had no idea what tactic to use next. Reverse psychology? Offer him a sexual favor? Just walk away and let the people who knew what they were doing resolve the situation? Try to disarm him herself?

Maybe that last idea wasn't so bad. Not in a "charge him and tackle him to the ground" way, of course, but if she moved slowly and carefully...

"May I walk over there?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to look into your eyes when we talk, and the cops are less likely to try to shoot you if I'm in front of you."

"Yeah, go ahead," he said. "But stop when I tell you to stop."