Weathers parked his car as close to the bank as he could get. The police had already closed down the road that lead past the bank building, stringing up yellow tape and parking cars lengthwise across the street to keep anyone from trying to get in. There were plenty of reporters already who were trying to cross the barricades anyway. They’d been waiting for this, Brent knew. Waiting for Maggie to do something bad. “If I can talk her down, if I can get her to surrender,” Brent said, “will you let her come home?” He knew the answer, of course. But he waited for Weathers to sigh and say, “It’s gone too far for that. I’ll need to arrest her—it’s better if I do it than the local cops, probably. I can take her some place safe.” “Like a—” Brent swallowed painfully, “—a psychiatric hospital? So she can get some help, work out her problems?” “Maybe, eventually,” Weathers said. “I was actually thinking that the local jail wouldn’t be able to hold her.
