“Team Ops, copy that.”
Time dragged by.
“Flatiron Command, the Team is in position. The anchor is ready.”
“That would be Belcourt,” Megs said. “That’s his specialty.”
Another burst of static. “Sixteen-ninety-four has reached the suspect. He’s getting the climbing harness on him now.”
Finally, the news they’d all been waiting for.
“They’re bringing him down. They’re on the way down the back rappel now. Sixteen-ninety-four has him with Sixteen-seventy-two on belay.”
“That’s Moretti and Chaska.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” Naomi took a deep breath.
It was over.
When Chaska backedRescue One into its bay, Naomi was waiting for him. By the time he’d opened the door and stepped out, she was there, a beautiful smile on her face. He drew her into his arms, kissed her. “Were you able to listen in?”
“I listened to the whole thing. I was so scared for all of you—and for him, too. But you all got him down.”
Hawke walked up behind them. “Moretti got him down. Where is that bastard?”
Chaska glanced toward the parking lot. “He’s just pulling in.”
They welcomed him with cheers and high fives.
“Way to go, Moretti.”
“It’s a good thing you did, man.”
“That took guts, bro.”
Moretti wasn’t having it. “Okay, all right. Everyone shut up.”
Then Megs stepped out of the ops room, walked over to him, and gave him a hug. “I don’t know whether to kick your ass or buy you a drink. Way to go.”
She stepped back. “Let’s do a sort and reload on the gear and do a quick debriefing. Moretti, I think I will buy you a drink.”
Moretti shook his head. “I promised him I would look in on his wife and kids, explain to his wife what had happened, ask her maybe to wait on the divorce.”
Megs gave him a motherly pat on the arm. “You are a brave man.”
Chaska helped unload the rope bags and carry them to the large sinks where they’d be washed by hand and then sat through a quick debriefing with the others who had participated in this rescue. The idea was to talk about what they’d done right and what they ought to have done better. Everyone agreed that their part of this operation had gone off without a hitch.
“I’ve got a suggestion,” Chaska said.
Megs looked up from the clipboard where she was making notes. “Out with it.”
“We ought to buy two bullhorns, one for each rescue vehicle.”
Moretti nodded. “Great idea.”
“Yeah. Right on.”
Chaska explained. “The county brought its hostage negotiating team, but they didn’t have a bullhorn. We waited for more than an hour with this guy threatening to jump or shoot himself or shoot us while they had some deputy drive a bullhorn from halfway across the county. If we’d been able to get in contact with the victim sooner, things might not have escalated to the degree that they did. Who’s to say we won’t be in need of one ourselves one day?”