For the first time in his life, Danny could have wept for joy at the sight of a cop. Then he turned back to Evan and saw him already moving. His pistol swinging over with that gunfighter speed as he flung Debbie toward the detective and sprang back. Debbie flying forward, her legs scrambling to keep up, her body between Evan and Nolan.

Two gun blasts split the world. And in the burned-out light of the muzzle flashes, Debbie’s chest exploded.

Her arms spread like an angel beseeching grace.

Her lips framed a moan.

And then she fell.

Danny wasn’t sure if he yelled or not. He stood in place, watching as her body hit the ground. As the blood began to darken the floor. Remembering another body on another floor. Another shooting he hadn’t been able to prevent. Another victim he hadn’t been able to protect.

So many years, and yet here he was again.

And then, from a position behind the lumber pile, Nolan was firing. The blasts broke Danny’s reverie. He whirled to see Evan lunge into the next room, bag in one hand and pistol in the other. Chunks of Sheetrock blew out where the cop’s bullets followed him. Danny took a last look at Debbie, wanting to run to her, knowing it was too late, that it would be a pointless gesture. Maybe a suicidal one, with Evan somewhere in the darkness.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his eyes away from her body.

The others crouched behind the bricks. Karen was frantically gesturing him over. Nolan had settled behind the lumber pile in a target shooter’s stance, his attention entirely on the room where Evan had disappeared.

Behind and to the near side of the detective, the stairwell was clear.

There might not be a better moment. Danny darted over to the bricks. Richard gripped Tommy in a bear hug, the boy’s arms wrapped around his waist. Karen crouched beside them, her pupils wide.

“Can you run?”

She nodded. He grabbed Richard’s shoulder.

“The stairwell. Let’s go.” Without waiting for a reply, he leapt to his feet, sprinting forward. If Evan fired, he wanted to be the target. His feet slapped the ground. A gun blast exploded from somewhere, shatteringly loud. Behind him, he could hear the fumbling sounds of the others. Nolan glanced at him and cursed, started to swing the gun over and thought better of it, turning back to cover them. He fired twice, the flashes painting his face in garish colors, and then Danny reached the open stairwell door and stopped to help the others through. Karen came first, light on her feet, dragging Tommy behind her. Richard took up the rear, vanishing into the darkness. As Danny spun to follow, another blast roared. A patch of cinder block exploded right where he’d been standing, chips and dust showering down, and then he was in the shaft, the others already running down the stairs. Karen turned to see that he had made it, and he gestured her on. “Go!”

The four of them hurtled down the dark steps, Karen and Tommy a flight ahead, holding hands. More gunfire exploded above. He and Richard ran together, taking stairs four at a time.

As they stepped on the landing just above the first floor, he heard three shots in rapid succession, followed by Nolan’s scream.

Danny froze. Richard stopped beside him, his look quizzical and eager. Only silence from above. His heart pumped panic, his lungs sucked fear.

Ahead of them, the stairs were clear. No way Evan could catch them. The Rover was unlocked and running. They could be out the door and safe in seconds.

Upstairs, Nolan was alone. Wounded. And facing the monster Danny had helped create.

“Come on.” Richard shook with impatience.

When Debbie had fallen, Danny had felt for a second like he was back in the pawnshop. Evan gone kill-crazy and a body on the floor. The last time he’d chosen to walk out. Now here he was again, faced with the same options.

Who said fate lacked a sense of poetry?

Danny grimaced. No more wrong choices. “Get them out of here.”

For an instant they locked eyes in the twilight gloom, two men pushed to the naked edge of reason. Something passed between them. Something like understanding. Then Richard nodded, turned, and dashed down the steps. The last Danny saw of him was his bright Nikes as he raced out of the stairwell.

Danny stood alone in the darkness, his body jittery with adrenaline. On the roof, he’d realized that he didn’t expect to make it out alive. He’d sworn a silent promise that if saving the others meant sacrificing himself, it was a deal he could accept.

Time to settle that marker. For Patrick. For Debbie.

For himself.

He took a breath and started back up the stairs.

47

A strange calm had descended. His heart still pounded, but now he felt a mastery over it, a lightness. He moved upward as silently as speed would allow, taking the steps in long strides, his eyes fixed on the open doorway. Sean had been hit, that much he knew. But how badly?

Reaching the landing, he pressed his back against the wall. He wanted to wait, to figure out exactly where they were, but knew that could be fatal for Nolan.

Breathing softly, he peered around the edge of the door.

The detective wasn’t by the woodpile, and it took a moment to spot him. When Danny did, he found himself torn between standing rigid in fear and running out like a fool.

Nolan knelt at the building’s edge, some fifty feet away. Blood stained the upper part of his torso black. Evan stood in front of him, pistol pressed against Sean’s forehead. The duffel bag lay on the floor a half dozen paces away.

Without pausing to consider, Danny stepped out, keeping low but moving fast, sure at any moment he would see a plume of orange, watch Nolan’s lifeless body fly backward.

Fifteen feet took him to the lumber. Good cover, but not much else. The once neat stack had toppled and spilled sideways. The shorter pieces were hopelessly entangled with the larger, and there was no way to extract one without making noise. Danny still had the knife on his key chain, but it was a laughable match for Evan’s pistol. Which tool would he use, the can opener or the folding scissors? Besides, sneaking that close to Evan seemed impossible. The space was too open.

On the building’s edge Sean knelt with his head bowed, apparently paying no attention to whatever Evan was asking. The stain on his chest continued to grow, and a small pool of blood had formed under his knees. Staring helplessly, Danny noticed a trail of black running from the pool. Evan must have dragged the detective to the lip. Enjoying the theater. Unconsciously, Danny’s eyes followed the trail. There was a silver shape lying where it began, some twenty feet away.

A gun. Nolan must have dropped it when he got hit.

Danny snuck another look at Evan. He still couldn’t make out any words, but something told him the shot was coming soon.

Retrieving the gun meant leaving cover, crossing into an open area. If Evan heard him, it was over for both of them.

Moving lightly, he crept out from behind the lumber. His heart sounded in his ears, thum-thUMP, thum-thUMP. He kept his weight on the balls of his feet as he walked the long tightrope across the room. His body tingled all over, the soreness of his muscles forgotten. The night air felt cool but very distant. Ten more steps. He tried to bring to mind everything he knew about guns. Beyond undoing the safety, it wasn’t much. He lifted a foot, leaned in, set it down gently. Every move precise. Careful. Not once giving in to the voice that yelled inside him. The whole weight of his life, and of Nolan’s, depended on doing this perfectly. Five more steps. Evan’s voice drifted through the air. The words sounded slow motion, dragged out like a tape loop. Weird, alien murmurs. He wondered if the others were away, if they’d made it to safety. He could feel each nerve in his feet, each current of air on his skin.