Kels throws me a questioning look.

"It’s a lone gunman." Even in a crisis, I keep my sense of humor. "He’s wearing body armor and a mask. And he has an Uzi," I whisper this directly into her ear. I try not to notice either the fragrance of her shampoo or her perfume.

She takes it in swallowing hard as she nods her understanding. She’s still pale, but the fear is keeping her alert.

I take a deep breath. It’s now or never. Shut up and jump. I set the Betacam down and remove my vest. Don’t want Psycho-with-a-gun thinking I’m concealing a weapon.

"What are you doing?" she whispers as she watches me adjust the micro-camera.

"I’m gonna go make nice." I watch as a slightly amused look crosses her face. I grin at her. "I’m capable of doing that. When I want." As I duck out from behind the desk, I whisper, "Stay here until I signal for you."

Staying low, I move toward the back of the room toward the gunman. Gary’s right: I’m stupid. But I have an exclusive so far. And if I can live to enjoy it, it’s gonna be a great day. I begin to slowly straighten to my full height as I move. I try to keep my eye on our host and still get a look around. I finally see what I am afraid of. In the corner, clustered into a small mass, two adults are huddled protectively around nine or so children. Dammit! One of the women sees me so I quickly place my finger to my lips. She nods.

The next step I take brings the gunman around to face me. I look down briefly to see the crinkled magazine under my foot. Oops. I return my gaze to the gunman as I slowly bring my hands up to my sides, palms up, so he can see I’m not armed. Then I turn around to show no hidden weapons. As I make the slow circle, praying I’m not gonna get shot in the back, I notice that somehow my Betacam has made it to the top of the desk. It is pointed right at us and the light is on. Apparently Kelsey wants videotape of my death to play at the office Christmas party and other festive occasions.

I turn back to the gunman who levels the barrel of the gun at my heart. "Who the fuck are you?" The question is muffled by the black mask he’s wearing. It reveals only dark brown eyes, but those eyes sing volumes to me.

{{Break here for the first week?}}

"I’m Harper Kingsley. I work for KNBC." The Micro-Uzi makes me really apprehensive. Those things are notorious for having hair triggers and our host is already nervous. "Would you like to talk to us?"

He nods. Good, this is good. "Okay, partner, here’s the deal. I have a friend with me. She’s a reporter…"

He tenses as he grips the gun tighter. "Where?"

"Right there." I hear her. Turning at the waist, I see Kels stand up from behind the desk. She mimics my hands-open position as she slowly steps forward.

"I’m right here," she says. "We’re not here to hurt you or trick you. You can talk to us. We’ll listen. Harper will film it for you too."

He nods again. "You got a camera?"

"Yeah, back there." I point back to the desk.

"Get it."

"Okay." I slowly begin to back up. Kels doesn’t move from her spot. I’m not sure if she is immobile from fear or guts. But I’m glad she’s not making him more nervous.

"Listen," she says as she glances over to the huddled formation in the corner. "Why don’t you let the children go? They’re terrified and don’t really serve a purpose in this whole thing, do they?" Her voice is steady and low and I find it very soothing. I hope Wonder Nut does too.

I grab my camera and return to a position behind Kels. It gives me an excellent shot of her and him. He looks to the children.

"Do they?" Kels asks again very softly. "Do they really have any reason to be here?"

"No. I didn’t know they’d be here. There are never children in this reading room."

"They were on a field trip." Kels offers as she slowly moves to them. She kneels down, doing a quick visual check. "You okay?"

One of the women nods, still too terrified to speak.

This is fucking wonderful! God, our ratings must be sky-high at the moment. This is better than a slow car chase down the Santa Monica freeway.

"Good. We’ll get you out of here in a moment." Kelsey’s soft voice is soothing the woman’s fears even as her fingers reach out and stroke as many of the children as she can reach: touching hands, arms, bowed heads. She seems to have given them courage while gaining more of her own and she stands, moving back to the gunman. "If you want us to help you, you have to let the children go."

"The police will come in…"

"No, they won’t." Kelsey reassures him, it’s obvious she has no desire to bargain this point. If the man wants our airtime, he’ll have to abide by this rule. "No one will come in if you let the children go. It’s the children they’re worried about. And it will look very good for you when you decide to leave too."

The gunman hesitates, then nods at Kels. She immediately motions for the women and the children to make a quick exit before Nutflake changes his mind.

The women scramble to their feet, grabbing as many children as they can and pulling the rest to their feet as they head for the door. Kelsey is also tugging children to standing positions and shoving them gently towards the opening and the women standing there. I pan around to capture the frantic race for freedom, very proud that we have managed to gain it for them.

"Stop!" he yells, just as they are at the door.

Damn! Double-crossing, Uzi-toting, child-abusing Nutflake. I’m gonna be happy to capture the LAPD’s use of excessive force on your ass. I manage to meet Kelsey’s eyes for a split second and I see in them the fear of a plan gone awry. She’s on her toes, ready to try a new tact.

"She stays!" He points the gun at one of the women. She’s apparently an employee here, as she is wearing a library nametag.

She stops and puts down the two children she was carrying. She pushes them out the door, then turns very slowly.

"Get over here! Now, bitch!"

I sigh. There’s no need for that. Especially not for a woman as attractive as she is. I stifle a chuckle. I always keep my priorities straight, even in hostage situations.

The woman comes over and slides up behind me, grabbing onto the back of my shirt. Oh this shirt is toast.

"Police are outside the doors," she whispers. "Lots of police."

I nod as I continue to film Kels and the gunman. Now, we just have to get our asses out of the line of fire and let the cops do their job.

"Thank you." Kelsey smiles as she takes a seat at a reading table. "Why don’t you sit down here and talk to me? Tell me what the problem is. Tell me why you would come here and do this."

I’m impressed. Kelsey is pulling herself together just fine. She’s smoothing her hair and her coat and she looks every bit the professional I’m learning she is.

He cocks his head as he points the barrel of the gun away from Kels. I’m glad he did that. Chambers wouldn’t like me losing her on the first outing.

"I like the library."

Ah, that explains everything. I watch warily as he takes a seat at the end of the table across from Kelsey.

"Generally the library is where you come to read, not target shoot," she says with a very charming little smile. It almost doesn’t sound like an insult. "Are you sure there’s not another reason you came here?"

"He died here," our host says quietly.

I see Kels reach for the mike pack to adjust the volume. Good girl; story first, compassion second. "Who died here?"

"My son. My son died here. In this room." He waves an irritated hand through the air.

"I’m sorry," Kels replies sincerely as she brushes a hand through her hair, tucking an errant strand behind her ear. "What happened?"

"He took an overdose in this room and died. Nobody noticed, nobody cared. They found him at closing. It’s their fault that my son is dead." His anger flares as he jumps from his seat and whips the gun around on me and the woman behind me. I wait for the inevitable and hope that the camera will keep working even if I can’t. I almost shout out a protest when I see Kelsey rising to her feet and approaching him slowly. Jesus Christ, we’re all dead!

"It’s okay," she says softly as she reaches out for him. "I understand your loss. I understand your pain, but there’s no reason for anyone else to die senselessly in this room, is there?"

The gunman whirls around, turning the barrel to the ceiling firing a burst of gunfire into it.

Kelsey avoids the bits of the ceiling raining down around her. She takes a few cautious steps back. She looks a little shocked but is hiding her fear well. Her hands aren’t even trembling as they cautiously brush pieces of the ceiling from her hair and arms.

"It’s their fault! Someone should have been here!" He lowers the gun to Kels pointing it right at her. "You don’t care! No one cares that my boy is dead!"

"I do care." Kelsey offers as she stays near the table. "I do care. If someone here is truly responsible for his death, then I can help you bring them to justice. But you have to trust me and let me help you."

"How can you help me?"

"I can do a story about the library and its policies. If we find out someone here was negligent…"

"You’d do that? You’d help me?" He lowers the gun.

"Yes. Yes, I will, but you have to trust me." She moves slowly towards the table again and begins another approach. "You have to let me help you." I zoom in and see her swallow hard as the sweat breaks out across her forehead. "Give me the gun. I can’t help you unless you give me the gun." With her other hand, she’s brushed bits of plaster from the table and chairs, inviting her captor to sit with her once more.

"No!" He raises the barrel again. I actually feel my heart beat double time and I’m nearly ready to get between them.

"Okay, okay. You don’t have to give it to me."

I hate to break it to her, but he isn’t.

"But I can’t help you if you don’t. Harper and I may as well leave and let police come in here."

"If you try, I’ll kill you."

Kelsey, would you please not mention the goddamn cops to him again.

"Well, then-" Kels gestures around. "This room will have seen four senseless deaths. Mine. Harper’s. Your son’s. And yours. Because if you kill us, the police will have no choice. I just thought you’d like to be around to see your revenge."

This seems to make some amount of sense to the man and though he’s still gripping the weapon in flexing fingers, he does take the seat she’s offered him. Kelsey sits as well, a little too closely for my tastes, but she can touch him now, placing a comforting hand on the fidgeting man’s arm.

"Tell me about your son? Huh? Let’s start there," she’s trying to calm him down before she goes for the gun again and I think it’s a pretty good plan since he looks just a touch too trigger happy for my tastes.

"He came here that day because I’d kicked him out of the house. I caught him with drugs and he wasn’t supposed to have them, ya know? His parole officer told me that."

Okay, I think, zooming in on the two figures. Leave it to Beaver, this ain’t. But it’s great television.

"I was so angry, I kicked him out and told him he needed to pull himself together. Was that wrong?" the gunman’s eyes seek out Kelsey’s, finding in them gentle acceptance.

"Not necessarily," she sooths softly. "Sometimes you have to force kids to make their own decisions and take on their own responsibilities. Especially if he was already involved in the wrong crowds. He couldn’t have expected you to turn the other cheek while he continued to hurt himself, could he? You loved him too much for that."

God, she’s good.

The gunman nods sadly. "I loved him very much. He must have come straight here, didn’t know what else to do. I don’t think he was trying to kill himself, do you?"

Kelsey smiles sweetly, pats the man’s arm. "No, I doubt it. I think his judgment was impaired, is all. Maybe he got some bad stuff. I’m sure he wanted to work things out with you and come home. He knew you were right."

"But these people-" his voice rises in anger again and he starts to stand but Kelsey interrupts him.

"Unh unh," she chastises gently, pulling him back to his chair and reaching again for the weapon. "I told you. I’ll help you bring justice here by determining if they’re understaffed and undertrained. If the library was negligent, we’ll get our revenge for your son, I promise you that. But it won’t be at the end of this gun." She taps the weapon, the sound of her well-manicured nail on steel echoing through the room. "We’ll do what they couldn’t. We’ll make sure that other people don’t die from their negligence without resorting to senseless death."