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“Jeff. You need to let me talk to them out there.” He tapped his mic and glanced to his right. A couple of federal agents were talking with his mom while the SWAT team waited for instructions. He let go of the radio button. “How about if I step outside and buy you some time?”

“Time for what?”

“To tell your story. Tell me why we should believe you.”

“You can’t leave the diner,” Jeff said.

“Can I use my cell?”

Jeff nodded.

Slowly, Emmett reached into his pocket. He carefully lifted out his phone and tapped his mom’s contact information. She answered on the second ring.

“You okay?” his mother asked.

“Yup.”

“We’ve got to get those people out of there.”

“I know,” Emmett said. “He has an envelope he wants me to make sure his daughter gets.”

“We can do that,” his mother said. “What other demands does he have?”

“None right now. Hang on.” He dropped his cell to his side. “I want to hear what you have to say, and they will give us some time to talk, but you’ve got to let some of these people go. If you don’t, this is going to get ugly real fast.”

Jeff nodded. “All the women and children can go.”

“I’m sending out some hostages now,” Emmett said into the phone. “Jeff’s going to tell me why we should believe he’s innocent. I need time. You need to make sure that happens.”

“I’m not going to let these yahoos storm in while my son’s the one doing the negotiating. But don’t let this go on too long. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He tapped the screen. “Listen. I’m going to be straight with you, Jeff. My boss out there happens to be my mom, and we work a little differently than the feds. So, I want you to take a step back. If you’re in the line of fire, they might try to take you out. I’ll open the door and let the hostages go.”

Jeff let out a long breath. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he said. “I wanted to get that information to my daughter and be done with it.” He sat on one of the stools at the counter, still holding the gun, pointing it at one of the cooks, who stood paralyzed by the kitchen door.

Emmett held open the front door, and all the women and children raced out. The rest, minus the cook, huddled in the far corner of the diner.

Quickly, Emmett snagged the envelope off the table and placed it on the counter before pouring two cups of coffee. “So, tell me, Jeff. Why should we believe you didn’t murder sixteen men? Because based on the note that was left at all the scenes, it all points back to you.”

Jeff lifted the mug with a shaky hand and took a sip of the hot liquid. He didn’t bother to blow into it or anything. “I’m being set up. I don’t know why. Or by who. But I saw a man following me. Not another homeless man either.”

“How do you know he was following you?”

“Because I saw him in Miami. Fort Lauderdale. Again in Delray. And I saw him yesterday down in West Palm.” Jeff lifted his gaze. “If someone is cheating, I wouldn’t be surprised if you have a dead body on your hands shortly.”

Someone was always cheating—sad, but true.

“I’m not accusing you.” Emmett held up his hands. “But that sounds like you know something.”

“No. But I know there have been five deaths in the last six months. They follow me wherever I go, and some note about Paul and meeting him in Hell is always left at the crime scene.”

It had been stupid for the police to release that to the press. But it wasn’t Emmett’s case. At least, not until now.

“When did you find out about the killings?”

“Every couple of weeks, I try to stay at a homeless shelter to get a shower, a change of clothes, and a good meal. That kind of thing. Also, to watch the news and see what’s going on in the world. That’s when I found out that I was a wanted man.”

“How long ago?” Emmett asked more specifically.

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