Page 57 of The Perfect Accomplice

A moment later, Ryan entered the room and moved into position beside her. His gun was pointed squarely at Warner as he surveyed the situation. While he did that, Jessie took the initiative.

“Charlie,” she said, speaking in a calm, quiet tone, “you don’t want to do anything crazy here. We can find a way out of this.”

Quaking in front of him, Margot Howell whimpered softly.

“I wish that was true,” Warner said, smiling sadly. “But I don’t see one. What else do I have to lose at this point? I’ve already lost my wife and most of my self-respect. As long as I’m done for, I might as well take this hateful bitch with me.”

He squeezed her neck tighter in the crook of his right elbow. Howell gagged slightly. Jessie felt Ryan stiffen beside her and feared that he might shoot. If he did, there was a real chance that both Warner and Howell would topple backward out the window. She couldn't change that.

“Okay, listen,” she said, lifting her gun high in the air above her head, “I’m going to put my firearm away as a show of good faith. Let’s talk this out, Charlie.”

Warner shook his head. “Your buddy there doesn’t seem to be following your lead,” he said, agitated.

“For him to do that, you have to give us something, Charlie,” she replied. “It’s only fair.”

“I don’t have anything to give, lady!” he shouted.

“Okay, okay,” she said, “everything’s cool. By the way, my name is Jessie.”

“Nice to meet you, Jessie. Now screw off!”

“You know I can’t do that,” she insisted, “but I can hear you out. Tell me what’s got you so upset. Talk to me.”

“It’s too late to talk.”

“It’s never too late to talk,” she replied. “Don’t you want someone to know why you’re doing all this?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“It’s my job to understand, Charlie,” she told him. “Try me.”

He hesitated and she could tell that he was thinking about. Everyone wanted to tell their story, to be understood. She was counting on Charlie Warner's desire to be heard, outweighing his desire to kill.

“Everything’s gone to crap.” He finally said with an exhausted sigh.

“How exactly?” she asked, imbuing her voice with as much sympathy as she could muster.

“Listen, I know it’s not an excuse, but I had it pretty rough as a kid,” he explained.

“What happened?” she asked, pretending as if it wasn’t completely absurd to think that anything that was done to him might justify his actions.

“We don’t need to go into all that,” he said sharply, before seeming to regain some measure of control. “The point is, I thought I’d clawed my way out of all that. I got married. I got to do what I loved for work. I was happy. Then my wife cheated on me and left me. I lost all my money, Now I have no future. And I have to deal with awful people like this one all the time. What’s the point?”

Jessie considered returning to his childhood. She wondered if getting him to confide in her might create some kind of bond that she could use to talk him down. But she also feared that broaching the subject again would only agitate him more. It was a risk she couldn’t take, so she went a different way.

“What about Welker?” she asked, referring to Margot Howell’s miniature schnauzer.

She saw his eyes flicker briefly in warm recognition.

“What about him?”

“If you kill Margot, he loses his mom. She might be a terrible person, but she obviously cares for him, and so do you. Would you do that to him? Leave him without his person?”

Warner looked conflicted, so she kept going, hoping to further burrow doubt in him.

“I know you care about him, just like you care about Chloe Henshall’s dog, Missy, and the Ashe’s dog, Freddy. Just like you cared about Max before he died. But this is different, Charlie. Max has passed away, and at least Missy and Freddy have other people left to take care of them. Welker would be all alone. You don’t want that.”

She saw him relent slightly, and unconsciously loosen his grip on Margot’s neck a little. His eyes were misty.

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