Author,Freeze Frame,thriller,books,subliminal,mystery,car

As the ranking police officer on the scene, the life of the young woman rested in the hands of Captain Lyle Banner, a 24-year veteran of the Detroit force.
     At the first sight of the gunman, Banner decided on a cautionary move, ordering those inside the roped area to take cover behind the police cars. Banner himself was standing, head and shoulders exposed, behind the car directly in front of the doorway where the gunman and his hostage had appeared.
     The wooden door was open and the two stood behind a screen door, Valvano holding the woman in front of him. Even through the screen Banner could see she was blinking from the glare of the squad car headlights which bathed the entire scene in a shade of ocher.
     Valvano shouted to the police to douse the headlights. Banner gave the order and the lights were switched off.
     Two hundred feet behind Banner, Hatfield watched the drama unfold through his scope. With lights from the living room illuminating her, he saw the woman clearly through the screen door. But he could barely make out the silhouette of the gunman’s head and torso, which peeked out from behind her scant millimeters on either side like the dark outline in a pencil sketch.
     “You got good news for me or do I kill the woman?” Valvano shouted through the screen door.
     “The kind of money you asked for is scarce this time of night,” Banner shouted back. “We’re working on it.”
     “You’d better work fast. You’ve got fifteen more minutes before I kill the woman and myself. You know I’ll do it.”
     Banner glanced down at his watch. He had no doubt the threat was real. Valvano was wanted in three states for a score of murders and had nothing to lose.
     Through his scope, Hatfield saw the hint of the man behind the woman, but decided he couldn’t chance a shot. In the dim light he could tell that Valvano held a small pistol against the woman’s temple with his right hand, his left arm wrapped around her upper torso. She was an attractive woman in her late twenties or early thirties; with a thin, straight nose and large, expressive eyes.
     Hatfield moved the tip of the rifle muzzle downward, peering through the scope, looking for any chance of a shot. When he saw what she was doing, he couldn’t help but think, God, that woman has balls!
     The woman’s hands were pinned against her body, but it was obvious that she was trying to signal someone, anyone, with her fingers. Downward and out of Valvano’s view she was pointing toward her left hand with her right index finger. With her left fist clenched, she extended each of three fingers, one at a time, in a one-two-three counting motion.
     God, that woman has balls.
     Hatfield moved the scope back to the woman’s face. She should be scared out of her wits, but instead of fear her eyes burned with defiance. If she could make someone understand, she was going to hit the ground on the count of three.
     “Captain!” Hatfield fought to get Banner’s attention. The captain was busy calling back and forth to the gunman on the porch, still trying to stall, to negotiate. Something. Anything.
     “Captain Banner!” Banner finally swung around.
     “Captain, have one of your men shine a spotlight on me. I want the two inside the house to see me.”
     Banner hesitated, then looked at his watch. Three minutes had already gone by since Valvano’s threat to kill the woman and himself.
     “Captain. Please. It’s important.”
     Banner gave the order and a police sergeant swung the spotlight of one of the cars backwards to illuminate Hatfield behind the tree. At the sight of the sniper, Valvano seemed to pull the woman even closer, his pistol pressed to her temple.
     “Your sniper doesn’t scare me,” Valvano called out. “He misses and she’s dead. His bullet or mine.”
     Hatfield had to be sure the woman knew he understood her signal. Holding the M1 against the tree trunk, he raised and lowered the barrel slowly three times.
     Then he called: “Okay, lights out.”