word. Maura was forced out of the
room, into the hallway. Where was security? Was anyone calling for help? They kept moving,
toward the nurses’ station, the woman’s sweating body pressed close, her panicked breaths
roaring in Maura’s ear.
“Watch out! Get out of the way, she’s got a gun!” Maura heard, and she glimpsed the group of
interns she’d seen only moments earlier. Not so cocky now in their white coats, they were
backing off, wide-eyed. So many witnesses; so many useless people.
Someone help me, goddammit!
Jane Doe and her hostage now moved into full view of the nurses’ station, and the stunned
women behind the counter watched their progress, silent as a group of wax figurines. The
phone rang, unanswered.
The elevator was straight ahead.
The woman punched the down button. The door slid open, and the woman gave Maura a shove
into the elevator, stepped in behind her, and pressed ONE.
Four floors. Will I still be alive when that door opens again?
The woman backed away to the opposite wall. Maura stared back, unflinching. Force her to
see who I am. Make her look me in the eye when she pulls the trigger. The elevator was chilly,
and Jane Doe was naked under the flimsy hospital gown, but sweat glistened on her face, and
her hands trembled around the grip.
“Why are you doing this?” Maura asked. “I never hurt you! Last night, I tried to help you. I’m
the one who saved you.”
The woman said nothing. Uttered not a word, not a sound. All Maura heard was her breaths,
harsh and rapid with fear.
The elevator bell rang, and the woman’s gaze shot to the door. Frantically Maura tried to
remember the layout of the hospital lobby. She recalled an information kiosk near the front
door, staffed by a silver-haired volunteer. A gift shop. A bank of telephones.
The door opened. The woman grabbed Maura’s arm and shoved her out of the elevator first.
Once again, the gun was at Maura’s jugular. Her throat was dry as ash as she emerged into the
lobby. She glanced left, then right, but saw no people, no witnesses. Then she spotted the lone
security guard, cowering behind the information kiosk. One look at his white hair, and Maura’s
heart sank. This was no rescuer; he was just a scared old guy in a uniform. A guy who was
just as likely to shoot the hostage.
Outside, a siren howled, like an approaching banshee.
Maura’s head was snapped back as the woman grabbed her hair, yanking her so close she
could feel hot breath against the back of her neck, could smell the woman’s sharp scent of fear.
They moved toward the lobby exit, and Maura caught a panicked glimpse of the elderly guard,
quaking behind the desk. Saw silver balloons bobbing in the gift shop window, and a
telephone receiver, dangling by its cord. Then she was forced out the door, straight into the heat
of afternoon.
A Boston PD cruiser screeched to a stop at the curb, and two cops scrambled out, weapons
drawn. They froze, their gazes on Maura, who now stood blocking their line of fire.
Another siren screamed closer.
The woman’s breaths were now desperate gasps as she confronted her rapidly narrowing
options. No way forward; she yanked Maura backward, dragging her once again into the
building, retreating into the lobby.
“Please,” Maura whispered as she was tugged toward the hallway. “There’s no way out! Just
put it down. Put the gun down, and we’ll meet them together, okay? We’ll walk over to them,
and they won’t hurt you . . .”
She saw the two cops edge forward step by step, matching their quarry’s pace the whole way.
Maura still blocked their line of fire, and they could do nothing but watch, helpless, as the
woman retreated up the hall pulling her hostage with her. Maura heard a gasp, and out of the
corner of her eye, she spotted shocked bystanders frozen in place.
“Back away, people!” one of the cops yelled. “Everyone get out of the way!”
This is where it ends, thought
room, into the hallway. Where was security? Was anyone calling for help? They kept moving,
toward the nurses’ station, the woman’s sweating body pressed close, her panicked breaths
roaring in Maura’s ear.
“Watch out! Get out of the way, she’s got a gun!” Maura heard, and she glimpsed the group of
interns she’d seen only moments earlier. Not so cocky now in their white coats, they were
backing off, wide-eyed. So many witnesses; so many useless people.
Someone help me, goddammit!
Jane Doe and her hostage now moved into full view of the nurses’ station, and the stunned
women behind the counter watched their progress, silent as a group of wax figurines. The
phone rang, unanswered.
The elevator was straight ahead.
The woman punched the down button. The door slid open, and the woman gave Maura a shove
into the elevator, stepped in behind her, and pressed ONE.
Four floors. Will I still be alive when that door opens again?
The woman backed away to the opposite wall. Maura stared back, unflinching. Force her to
see who I am. Make her look me in the eye when she pulls the trigger. The elevator was chilly,
and Jane Doe was naked under the flimsy hospital gown, but sweat glistened on her face, and
her hands trembled around the grip.
“Why are you doing this?” Maura asked. “I never hurt you! Last night, I tried to help you. I’m
the one who saved you.”
The woman said nothing. Uttered not a word, not a sound. All Maura heard was her breaths,
harsh and rapid with fear.
The elevator bell rang, and the woman’s gaze shot to the door. Frantically Maura tried to
remember the layout of the hospital lobby. She recalled an information kiosk near the front
door, staffed by a silver-haired volunteer. A gift shop. A bank of telephones.
The door opened. The woman grabbed Maura’s arm and shoved her out of the elevator first.
Once again, the gun was at Maura’s jugular. Her throat was dry as ash as she emerged into the
lobby. She glanced left, then right, but saw no people, no witnesses. Then she spotted the lone
security guard, cowering behind the information kiosk. One look at his white hair, and Maura’s
heart sank. This was no rescuer; he was just a scared old guy in a uniform. A guy who was
just as likely to shoot the hostage.
Outside, a siren howled, like an approaching banshee.
Maura’s head was snapped back as the woman grabbed her hair, yanking her so close she
could feel hot breath against the back of her neck, could smell the woman’s sharp scent of fear.
They moved toward the lobby exit, and Maura caught a panicked glimpse of the elderly guard,
quaking behind the desk. Saw silver balloons bobbing in the gift shop window, and a
telephone receiver, dangling by its cord. Then she was forced out the door, straight into the heat
of afternoon.
A Boston PD cruiser screeched to a stop at the curb, and two cops scrambled out, weapons
drawn. They froze, their gazes on Maura, who now stood blocking their line of fire.
Another siren screamed closer.
The woman’s breaths were now desperate gasps as she confronted her rapidly narrowing
options. No way forward; she yanked Maura backward, dragging her once again into the
building, retreating into the lobby.
“Please,” Maura whispered as she was tugged toward the hallway. “There’s no way out! Just
put it down. Put the gun down, and we’ll meet them together, okay? We’ll walk over to them,
and they won’t hurt you . . .”
She saw the two cops edge forward step by step, matching their quarry’s pace the whole way.
Maura still blocked their line of fire, and they could do nothing but watch, helpless, as the
woman retreated up the hall pulling her hostage with her. Maura heard a gasp, and out of the
corner of her eye, she spotted shocked bystanders frozen in place.
“Back away, people!” one of the cops yelled. “Everyone get out of the way!”
This is where it ends, thought
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