Her eyes were fixed on him.

Her mouth came open, and he tensed. If she made a sound, it was over. There was no way he could make it to Evan. A cough from her would mean death.

“Go ahead, check the bills. It’s all there,” Richard said.

Danny stared at her, trying to put everything into his eyes. All of the wrong choices that had led them both here. Begging her, across twenty feet of darkened nightmare, not make a final mistake. Not to kid herself that this wasn’t the real thing.

She looked back at him, then over at Evan. It could only have been a second or two their eyes had been locked, but it felt like a lifetime. Like a staring contest as a little kid. A beam angels could have walked across.

Finally, Debbie moved. She raised the cigarette to her lips. Took a drag that made her features glow orange.

And very deliberately turned to stare out the plastic sheeting.

Danny let himself breathe. To anyone else, just turning away would hardly seem heroic. But he knew something about wrong choices, and how hard it could be to make the right. He could’ve kissed her.

He looked back at Evan and Richard. His old partner had pulled out a wad of bills and was holding them up in the gray light. No more than fifteen feet away.

Danny began to move again, gentle as a spring breeze. But not directly to Evan. Four steps out of his way took him to a waist-high pile of neatly stacked lumber. Most of the two-by-fours were twelve feet, construction length, but a few scraps rested on top. His hand closed on a piece about the length of a baseball bat. Not daring to take his eyes off Evan, he lifted it slowly, the wood dry and cool against his sweating palm. A splinter popped, and Danny tensed to dive, but Evan didn’t react.

Danny raised the two-by-four and took another careful step. A few more. Just a few more and he’d be in striking distance.

Evan held the money under his nose and breathed it in. “Ahh, Dick. I could kiss you.”

“Where’s my son?” Richard spoke with surprising force.

“Yeah.” Evan popped his head to either side. “About that. Change of plans.”

Fear sang in Danny’s blood. He took a hurried step, then another. So close.

Then Evan raised his right arm, the same balletic grace and speed as before, the snub-nose pointing straight at Richard’s head.

“Dad!” A ragged cry of fear sounded behind them all.

Still six or eight feet away, Danny flung himself forward, the board humming through the air. Evan whirled, the gun tracking with him, his eyes white and wide and suddenly close. He planted one foot and brought his left arm up in a reflexive block. The off-balance lunge had cost Danny power, and Evan’s leather jacket absorbed most of the hit. He stepped forward, tucking a shoulder, and suddenly Danny found himself flipping over Evan’s back, his own velocity used against him. He had an upside-down fun-house view of Tommy sprinting from the stairwell, Karen an arm’s length behind, her mouth open, and then his spine hit the floor and the breath burst from him in a gasping rush. Lightning flashed behind his eyes. The board clattered from his grip.

“Danny Carter.” Evan put his boot on Danny’s throat, the pistol up to cover the others. “I was kind of hoping I’d see you again, partner.”

46

“Get in here, kitten.” Evan swiveled the gun to Karen. She hesitated, her face a mask of hatred and fear, and then she walked over to stand beside Richard and Tommy.

From the ground, Danny saw Evan smile, and felt a quick push to his throat. His head burst in a kaleidoscope of colors, and then the boot was gone. He heard Evan retreating. Danny rolled on his side, coughing. Through tear-bleary eyes, he could see Karen take a half step toward him, and he quickly shook his head at her. She froze.

“Deborah, that was a really excellent job of keeping watch.” Evan glared over his shoulder at her. “You doze off, or were you just hoping he’d take you away from all this?”

“I was looking outside.” Her voice sounded stronger than Danny expected, like she’d been preparing herself. “Watching for cars.”

Evan grunted. “Come on, Danny. Get up.” His old partner had moved back a dozen feet to stand next to Debbie, at the entrance of a half-built room. The gun held the four of them in a narrow killing arc.

Danny struggled to his feet, every part of his body screaming. His eyes darted for some advantage, a play that could save them. The third floor was half constructed, the exterior walls not enclosed, but open stud walls divided the interior. A few sections, like the one Evan and Debbie stood near, had even been Sheetrocked. To the left, toward the exterior, were four-foot bundles of bricks meant for the “exposed” walls of future apartments. Behind them and to the right was all open space.

“Do me a favor, would you, buddy?” Evan gestured to the duffel bag with the barrel of the gun. “Bring that bad boy over here.”

There was no reason for Evan to keep them alive once he had the money. But it wasn’t like he couldn’t just shoot them and pick it up himself. Better to spin it out a little longer, give the guy time to gloat, while Danny stayed ready. He took a slow step toward the bag, playing up a limp. Let Evan think he could barely stand.

His senses hummed with hyper-real perception. He could make out the leathery texture of his shoes, could smell the piney sawdust of the lumber, and above it, the sweet drugstore perfume Debbie wore. The weight of the duffel bag pulled him to one side as he walked toward Evan, hoping for a tiny lapse of attention. At this point, any chance was worth taking.

“Slowly now.” Evan kept the black eye of the pistol fixed on Danny as he moved, the barrel unwavering. Debbie stood beside him, her lower lip caught in her teeth. “Set it down.”

He did, wondering if he could make the few feet between them, knowing he couldn’t.

“Good boy.” Evan gestured toward the others, and Danny backpedaled slowly to join them. A building under construction would normally offer any variety of makeshift weapons, hammers and saws and nail guns, but here everything had been neatly tucked away for the winter. The bricks were bound with steel bands. The two-by-four he’d dropped lay at Evan’s feet. He stepped beside Karen, laying one hand in the small of her back. He wanted to take her in his arms, but knew that if a chance came he couldn’t risk being tangled up.

Evan stepped forward, bent down, and hoisted the thirty-pound bag like it was tissue. The gun never moved.

“Right.” He smiled, only half his face visible in the gloom. “I know this is the part where I’m supposed to say something cold, but words were always more your side of the action, Danny. So let’s just leave it at good-bye, huh?”

His thumb rocked up to cock the pistol.

Danny could feel the ragged working of his lungs, the twinges of pain in his chest. Stared at the gun. Wondered if this was it, the end of everything he cared about. Failure in a flash of light. He watched Evan’s finger move on the trigger, gentle and firm, his hand strong.

And then he saw another hand.

Debbie threw herself at Evan, scrabbling at his right arm, shoving it upward, the two of them locked like statues in the liquid play of shadows, a frozen image burned in Danny’s brain, and then orange fire spat at the ceiling and the world accelerated, too many things happening at once.

Danny used the hand on Karen’s waist to shove her into Richard and Tommy, their arms and legs tangling in a clumsy fall behind the bundle of bricks.

Evan’s left hand shot up to Debbie’s throat.

And from the stairwell, someone yelled, “Freeze!”

Whirling, Danny saw Sean Nolan charging out of the darkness of the stairway, his gun up and leveled at Evan.