Half an hour later, inside the command vehicle's conference room, Alice presented her findings on the "Cookie Man."
"White Cornell," she began. "He lived in Harrisville from 1998 to 2018, running a small grocery store. He divorced in 1997 and has been single ever since. I cross-referenced the timeline—Ronnie and his mother appeared in the area around his second year post-divorce. It all lines up."
"He doesn't live in the area anymore?" Jubal asked.
Alice shook her head. "Not full-time. He shut down the grocery store in 2018 and now spends most of his time in Florida, looking after his grandchildren. But he seems to have returned to town recently—probably within the past few days. Ronnie likely came for him."
"So, Ronnie's main target was White all along," JJ speculated. "He just couldn't find him at first and stumbled upon Raelyn instead. Everything that happened after that was a consequence of his failure to locate White. Now that White's back, he's back on his trail."
"Let's confirm that," Aubrey said, handing Alice a phone.
When Alice dialed, the call surprisingly connected. However, the voice on the other end wasn't elderly. It was smooth and overly familiar.
"Who's this, sweetheart?" the voice asked.
"Is this Mr. Cornell?" Alice feigned ignorance.
"And who might you be, darling?"
"I'm Sheila from Verizon Communications. Our company is offering a free upgrade to 300 Mbps internet in your neighborhood. If you'd like to—"
A faint, elderly voice suddenly interrupted from the background. "Help—"
The plea was abruptly cut off by a muffled grunt and the sound of the call disconnecting.
"It's him. Let's move," Jack said, already stepping out of the vehicle. He paused, then added, "And don't forget to bring Raelyn."
When the team, accompanied by West Virginia SWAT, arrived at White Cornell's residence, they quickly spotted the gray Honda Civic parked out front. Using binoculars, Clay confirmed the license plate matched the one from last night's carjacking.
Before Jack could issue orders, Aubrey spoke up. "I'll take a team to cover the back alley. The houses across the street are already cleared, so we can position at least two snipers there. I checked the drone footage—there's good visibility, and it's well-concealed."
"The suspect may have two hostages inside," Jubal pointed out, frowning at the windows, which were covered with drawn curtains. "A direct breach would be too risky."
"Who said we need to storm in? Let's make him come to us," Jack said, nodding toward the vehicle Raelyn was sitting in. JJ was driving, with Raelyn in the backseat.
Jubal hesitated. "Isn't that too aggressive?"
"Do you think he'll peacefully surrender, let us cuff him, and walk off to prison?" Jack countered.
Jubal couldn't argue. He'd seen Ronnie's madness firsthand throughout this case. But Jack's clear intent to provoke and potentially neutralize Ronnie still unsettled him. It clashed with Jubal's usual approach to hostage situations.
"I think Jack's right," Clay said, inspecting his M110 SASS sniper rifle. "This guy's lost it. A peaceful resolution isn't on the table, and we can't gamble with the hostages' lives—or ours."
As a former soldier, Clay had been conditioned to follow orders without questioning them. But in the FBI, he appreciated Jack's willingness to answer his questions and explain his reasoning, unlike his former team leader, Jason.
On the other side of the vehicle, Hannah checked her G28E. She had unwavering faith in Jack's judgment. Even if he one day pointed a gun at her, her instinct would be to assume there was a threat behind her.
"Fine," Jubal relented. "But you're helping me write the report later."
Jack quickly sketched out a plan on his notepad. "JJ, park the car here to avoid obstructing the snipers' line of sight. Clay and Hannah, pick your sniper positions across the street. Stay hidden. The distance is around 120 to 150 yards—not an issue for either of you."
He turned to Jubal. "Use your negotiation skills to get Ronnie to the front room window. Let him see Raelyn, but don't let Raelyn see him."
"Why?" Jubal asked, puzzled. Even Clay and Hannah gave him questioning looks.
"Raelyn's role in Ronnie's life is as a spectator. If he knows she's watching, he might shoot a hostage just to put on a show. His goal is to satisfy his psychological needs—not to achieve anything practical," Jack explained.
The realization hit Jubal like a punch to the gut. He nodded grimly. "Got it. I'll handle it. Contact Ronnie."
The phone rang. Ronnie answered with a mocking tone. "What now? Another telemarketer? Just introduce yourself. Are you cops or FBI?"
"Mr. Bishop, this is Supervisory Special Agent Jubal Valentine with the FBI," Jubal said calmly. "We have your house surrounded. I'd like to discuss a way for everyone to come out safely—including you."
The call was patched into the team's comms, so everyone could hear the exchange.
"Go ahead. I'm listening," Ronnie replied, sounding amused. "FBI, huh? Took you long enough to catch up. Consider this your reward."
"First, I need to know if everyone inside is okay—Emma, White, and, of course, you," Jubal said, sticking to standard negotiation tactics.
"Sure, we're all fine," Ronnie said casually. "But if you try coming in, Emma and White might not stay that way."
"Understood," Jubal assured him. "I promise we won't do anything to provoke you, and I hope you'll do the same to avoid unnecessary harm. My priority is everyone's safety—including yours."
"Safety? Ha!" Ronnie laughed bitterly. "I've never been safe in my life. Right, White?" His laughter turned manic, followed by the sounds of blows landing and an old man crying out in pain.
"Do you remember that little boy sitting on the curb?" Ronnie yelled. "The one staring at the house he'd just been thrown out of? Do you know what he felt? You don't, you piece of—"
"Stop!" Jubal shouted, trying to regain control. But the beating noises continued. Then Jack, listening intently, mouthed a single word to Jubal: Mom.
Jubal immediately shifted tactics. "Hey, Ronnie, I get it. I've met your mother. You never felt safe around her, did you?"
"Shut up!" The beating noises ceased, and Ronnie's voice became a mix of anger and fear. "Listen, FBI, I don't want to hear about her. Not a word!"
Jubal exhaled in relief, glad he'd regained some control. "Alright, let's talk about someone else—someone who does make you feel safe. Raelyn, am I right?"
"Where is she? Did you catch her?" Ronnie's tone grew sharp and high-pitched.
Hearing his reaction, Jack's confidence solidified. He glanced across the street, where Clay and Hannah were already in position. It was now up to Jubal to reel Ronnie in.
"You really care about her, don't you, Ronnie? But you used her as bait to escape with Emma. That's not how you treat someone you love."
"Shut up! Where is she?" Ronnie yelled.
"So you love her?" Jubal pressed, mimicking Ronnie's oily tone. "You didn't realize it until she was gone, did you? Without her watching, you can't function. You're soulmates—made for each other."
Ronnie's voice turned icy. "Listen, FBI, tell me where she is, or I'll put a bullet in these two."
The sound of a revolver's hammer being cocked echoed through the call, followed by Emma's terrified scream.
Jubal, however, remained calm. He knew he had the upper hand now. "Let's make a deal. If I bring Raelyn to you, what will you give me in return?"
"You've got her?" Ronnie sounded elated. "Alright, bring her here, and I'll give you the Cookie Man. Deal?"
"Done," Jubal said smoothly. "I'll have her brought to the front of the house. You can come to the window and see her for yourself. Then we'll discuss the exchange. Does that sound fair?"
After a brief negotiation, the call ended. Jubal's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a grim expression.
"Jack, you were right," he said. "That lunatic just wants to kill White in front of Raelyn. If she weren't here, he'd have offered Emma in exchange. White is his real target."
(End of Chapter)
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