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children, his head gone. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the image from her brain.
    She chanced another look at Smith, who was standing where Marla had greeted her less than ten minutes ago. He had a nine-millimeter in one hand and the shotgun in another. His jacket was open and Sara could see two empty holsters along with extra shells for the shotgun strapped to his chest. Another pistol was tucked into the front of his jeans and at his feet was a long black duffel bag that probably contained more ammunition. The second gunman was behind the counter, his weapon still pointing toward the front door. His body was tensed, his fingerresting to the side of the trigger on his rifle. He was chewing gum, and Sara found his silent gum-chewing more unnerving than Smith’s threats.
    Smith repeated, “You there, man?” He paused before trying again. “You there?”
    Finally, Brad said, “I’m here.”
    Sara let out a slow breath, relief weakening her muscles. She flattened herself to the floor, knowing the best way to get to Jeffrey would be to slide past a row of overturned filing cabinets. Slowly, she made her way along the cold tiles, reaching her hand out toward his. The tips of her fingers finally grazed the cuff of his jacket. She closed her eyes, inching closer.
    The gun in his hand was spent, though Sara could have guessed as much if she had let herself think about it. Jeffrey had been reloading when he was shot, and the magazine had dropped to the floor, splitting on impact. Bullets were everywhere—useless, unused bullets. She shouldn’t be surprised by that, just like she shouldn’t be surprised to feel the coldness of his skin or, when her fingers finally rested upon his wrist, the absence of his pulse.

2
    9:22 A.M.
    â€œE than,” Lena said, cradling the phone with her shoulder as she tied the laces on her new black high-top sneakers. “I’ve got to go.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou know why,” she snapped. “I can’t be late for work my first day back.”
    â€œI don’t want you to do this.”
    â€œReally? Because it wasn’t clear the eighteen million other times you said it.”
    â€œYou know what?” he said, his tone still controlled because he was actually stupid enough to think he could talk her out of this. “You can be such a bitch sometimes.”
    â€œIt took you long enough to figure that out.”
    He embarked on one of his little tirades, but Lena only half listened as she stared at herself in the mirror on the back of the door. She looked good today. Her hair was tied up and the suit she had bought on sale last week was cut just right for her build. Sheslid back the jacket, resting her hand on her holstered police-issue nine. The metal felt reassuring under her hand.
    â€œAre you listening to me?” Ethan demanded.
    â€œNo,” she said. “I’m a cop, Ethan. A detective. It’s who I am.”
    â€œWe both know who you are,” he told her, his tone sharper. “And we both know what you’re capable of.” He waited a beat, and she bit her tongue, forcing herself not to respond to the challenge.
    He changed tactics. “Does your boss know you’re seeing me again?”
    â€œIt’s not like we’re sneaking around.”
    He had heard the defensiveness in her tone, and pounced. “That’d make things real good for you at work, don’t you think? It’ll take less than a week for it to get around that you’re being nailed by an ex-con.”
    She dropped her hand from the gun, swearing under her breath.
    â€œWhat’d you say?” he demanded.
    â€œI said it’s already gotten around, you idiot. Everybody at the station already knows.”
    â€œThey don’t know everything,” he reminded her in a low, threatening tone.
    Lena glanced at the clock by her bed. She could not be late her first day back. Things were