Stone Kiss

35

The barren night reminded Decker of funerals, specifically of cops murdered while doing the job. Those left behind-the grieving parents, the prostrate spouses, and the bewildered children-had a sameness to their wretched faces like the sameness to the color black. In Judaism, Torah is light and light is God. Hell wasn’t fire and brimstone and devils and torture. Hell was an abyss without sensation, without end.

Slashes of rain slapped Decker’s face. Without the protection of the plastic bags, his shoes and socks had become soaked, but that was of little consequence. There were other things on his mind-Chaim… Donatti… Merrin… Rina and the children. As he neared the back door, he felt adrenaline kick in, his senses heighten.

Opening the door a fraction of an inch. Playing mental games to ward off that terrifying fear of a gun’s bore suddenly popping into his face. Only his heartbeat and breathing for company.

A few more inches, then Decker made the commitment. He slipped inside the warehouse and took refuge, hiding behind a stack of three-foot square boxes. Once again, surrounded by phantasmagoric nothingness: by violence lurking behind an eerie stillness. His inhalations were deep. He was sweating profusely, and salt bathed his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his gloves, still wet from rain. He peeked over the edge of the cardboard stack and peered through the Walther’s scope, but saw only aisle after aisle of cartons and boxes. Nowhere could he spy Donatti or the platform on which they had been squatting. With no specific landmarks, he was disoriented. He only knew that he was in the rear of the warehouse.

With nothing to go on, he figured he might as well go for the action and head toward the lit room in front. Hopefully, Donatti-if he did spot him-would look before he shot.

Provided he wasn’t after Decker.

Jonathan’s words: He could be setting you up.

Donatti had had ample opportunity to pop him, and had yet to exercise the option. But Chris was a pro and picked his scenery like a stage director choosing his set designs. The opportunity had never been better: a headfirst, out-of-town cop trying to rescue his brother-in-law, getting shot in the cross fire.

Again he scoped the place through the infrared lens, scanning the aisles for anything in motion.

Everything appeared inert.

He plotted a path, one that had lots of big cartons and crates to hide behind with plenty of escape routes. Of course, if he could hide behind walls of cardboard, so could a sniper. But maybe they were too busy guarding the door and watching their own asses to worry about an itinerant cop.

He inched out from his current position and gave a last-minute check to his surroundings. As quickly and quietly as his shoes would allow-he had to tiptoe because his sneakers squeaked-he started toward the other side of the warehouse.

First attempt, he hotfooted it about fifty feet before taking shelter behind a pallet.

Second try, he slithered out another hundred feet, then crouched behind a forklift to reevaluate.

Third time, he found a niche in back of a six-foot-high pallet.

His face was hot and wet, and large drops of sweat fell off his nose. His armpits were soaked; his clothes smelled rancid. His breathing was fast and shallow. His rib cage hurt from tension and his oxygen-starved inhalations.

A piece of concrete whizzed by his ear, landing on the ground and breaking into little tippy-tappy noises. Decker whipped around but saw nothing.

Donatti.

But where had it come from?

Decker sucked up oxygen from the frigid air and tried to get a fix on the direction of the projectile. He zigzagged in and out of merchandise, until another stone whizzed by his head.

He veered to the left, then scoped out the new area.

He still didn’t see any platform or staircase.

Darting from aisle to aisle, from box to box and carton to carton. He paused a moment, leaning against a pallet marked COMPUTER DESK AND HUTCH. FRAGILE. Sweat was cleaning out his system. The adrenaline rush was subsiding, fatigue taking its place.

Catching his breath…

Closing his eyes…

Just a moment…

His hand dropping to his side…

The barrel of the gun pointing to the ground…

Just a few more moments.

His eyes snapped open when he heard the voice.

“Freeze, motherfucker!”

Freeze, Decker thought.

Hit men don’t give warning.

But cops say “freeze.”

And good cops usually don’t say “freeze, motherfucker” without provocation. So this was probably a cop and not a nice one.

All this clicked inside Decker’s brain within a split second of decision-making. He dropped and rolled, while shooting in the direction of the voice, the semiautomatic spitting out muzzled fire because of the silencer-pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft. He scrambled to his feet, but remained stooped behind a crate, his lungs stinging as he panted, his gasping so loud it almost drowned out the moans. Slowly, he rose, but his shakiness forced him to lean against a wooden beam. Unsteady with pinpricks of starlight dancing in his brain, he tried to equalize his balance.

The moaning had stopped.

Decker peeked out.

Of sizable girth, the man had fallen with his head back, one thick arm across a padded chest, the other arm extended open and lying over the concrete. The torso had twisted so it was resting on the hip, the stomach spilling onto the floor. The legs were crossed over one another. The face was hard to make out, but the build certainly could have been Merrin’s.

Decker inched out from his hiding space.

Donatti was standing over the contorted body, eyes cast downward, arms crossed with a pistol in the left hand. His voice was a whisper. “See what happens when you give warning. He should have just taken you out.”

“Did you…” Decker’s heart was beating so fast it threatened to break his sternum. He was still trying to suck up air. “Did you do it or did I?”

Donatti looked up. “Take a bow.”

“Jesus!” Decker felt his head go light. “Fuck!”

“Buck up,” Donatti told him. “Surely, you’re not a virgin.”

“Unfortunately no…” He swallowed hard, staring at the face. Not Merrin, but definitely a cop. “Who’s left?”

“Just the two pups guarding Chaim’s office. I don’t know who’s actually in the office, because even I can’t see through walls.”

“Any more of these?”

“These? You mean cops?”

Decker nodded.

“Not that I know.” Donatti smiled. “I knew you’d come back.”

“Gotta keep an eye on you, Chris.”

“That’s bullshit. Your ego refused to allow me to be the one to save your brother-in-law.”

“Can we go?”

With expert precision, Donatti led Decker through the maze of crates, cases, parcels, and boxes. In minutes, they were within fifty feet of the office, light leaking out from under the door. No one was in view.

Where were the guards?

Donatti stepped back and pulled Decker into the shadows, his eyes in constant motion. They were out of sight, in back of a stack of wooden crates. “I don’t like this.”

“Where are the kids?”

“Don’t know.”

“What do you mean-”

“I don’t know. They were here a second ago.”

“They’re not here now. Where did they go? In the office?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I’m not a fucking mind reader. Shut up!”

“Fuck you!” Decker snapped back. His eyes darted from side to side. He looked through the scope of his gun, sweeping the lens across the area.

First there was nothing; then an eye blink of motion flitted out from the corner of his visual field. Reacting before the thought fully registered, he yanked Donatti down and jerked him hard to the left as bullets ripped through a stack of cardboard boxes containing television sets. It set off an explosion of glass and metal, a cloudburst of thousands of slivers and shards that flew through the air and rained down onto their heads.

Deadly silence followed the eruption.

The moments tapped by, punctuated by the rapping of the rain on the roof and the windowsills. Decker lay facedown on the floor, but Donatti was on his haunches, ready to spring. Both of them remained fixed in position, their eyes locked on one another in tacit communication. Decker saw Chris hold up a finger.

The minutes went by… two… three… four…

With everyone hidden from view, other senses became heightened. Decker saw Chris close his eyes. Both of them were professional enough to know not to make the first move.

When in doubt, wait it out.

Five… six… seven.

It didn’t even take that long. That was the way it was with amateurs: overeager because the pups just had to inspect their handiwork. They had to see the damage, to gloat about it. And with glass crunching beneath their shoes, they might as well have announced their arrival over a PA system. Though Donatti’s eyes remained closed, his lips broke into a smile, widening as the noise increased in volume.

The lids snapped open and he patted air, indicating for Decker to stay down. Then he ticked off the seconds with five splayed fingers.

Five, then four… three… two… one.

A quick peek from around the boxes, then two shots fired.

And that was that.

Decker couldn’t see them, but he heard them drop, the horrible crack of bone slamming against the cement.

Donatti whispered, “You can get up.”

Taking great care, Decker managed to balance on his legs, still squatting, still waiting. His hands were crisscrossed with small cuts, his sneakers and rain jacket sparkled like glitter. The darkness abruptly faded as a wedge of yellowed light cast its shape on the floor. Crunching accompanied the thuds of footsteps along with the sound of something being dragged. Heavy breathing could be heard.

“Caldwell?” A pause. “Caldwell, are you there?”

Donatti and Decker mouthed the word simultaneously: “Merrin.”

“Caldwel-”

The smashing underfoot stopped. Donatti shifted his position until the police chief came into view. “He’s looking at the bodies.” He turned to Decker. “He’s got your brother-in-law.”

“What do you mean?”

Donatti took his gun and put it at his temple. “I’ll take him down if you want.” A smile. “Or do you want to warn him?”

Decker’s brain was moving too fast to digest his thoughts. “I’m going to try to talk him down.” He got to his feet. “Stay back, all right?”

Chris shrugged indifference.

“Just be there to back me.”

Another apathetic shrug.

“What does that mean?”

“Time’s ticking, Decker. Either do it or let me handle it.”

Decker stepped out and aimed his weapon. “Hey, Virgil.”

Merrin jumped around, one hand holding a Smith & Wesson.32 caliber pistol with its bore buried in Chaim’s temple, the other hand clamped over Lieber’s mouth, muting his sobs and wails. Decker’s eye went from Chaim’s face, over the teenage corpses, then came back to the chief. “Sorry about your boys.”

“S’right. I got others to take their places.” A piggish grin was plastered across his ugly face. “It’s mighty nice for you to show up. Makes things easier all around.”

“I’m very tired,” Decker said. “Drop the gun-”

“You can’t be serious. Matter of fact, I was going to ask you to do that very thing.”

“Merrin, my nine millimeter is pointed at your chest. Your piece is pointed at Lieber’s head. That means I have the advantage.”

“You shoot me; I shoot him.”

“Then shoot him,” Decker retorted.

Merrin’s smile sagged, his face registering pure shock.

“So,” Decker told him, “either drop the gun or I’ll shoot you.”

“You’re bluffing-”

“Try me, Chief.”

Without warning, Merrin’s lips turned upward into a venal grin. “I suggest you drop the gun, Lieutenant, because I do reckon that the odds just shone in my favor.” His eyes went past Decker’s head, focusing on something behind him.

No one spoke.

Then Decker said, “I don’t know, Virgil. Donatti’s a loose cannon.”

Donatti laughed. “That’s certainly true. Because neither one of you knows whose side I’m on.” A pause. “Maybe I’ll kill both of you.”

No one moved.

“I’m about ten feet behind you, Decker,” Donatti said. “And, at the moment, my nine millimeter is pointed right at the base of your spine. I suggest you listen to the chief.”

Slowly, Decker turned around.

Chris wasn’t lying, except now the gun was aimed at Decker’s Adam’s apple. Donatti shrugged. “Nothing personal… well, maybe a little personal. But primarily it’s business.”

Decker looked back at Merrin-at his porcine expression filled with malice and evil-then returned his attention to Donatti. The gun remained on him-a fixed, permanent object.

“If you don’t do it now, Decker, I’ll shoot you in a five countdown. If you cooperate and slowly lower the gun to the floor, you stand a slim chance of talking me out of it.”

Decker weighed his options, two against one-the professional cop and the sharpshooter. Maybe if he ducked, they’d shoot each other. He smiled internally, but found his body had been seized by the shakes. In the end, he bent down and placed the gun on the cement floor. Then he straightened. He’d given the snub-nose and its one bullet to Jonathan. How he wished he had that gun now.

“Keep your hands up and where I can see them,” Donatti said.

Decker raised his hands to his shoulders. “Is this the part where I try to talk you out of it?”

“No, this is the part where you shut up and listen. Kick the Walther over to me.”

Decker did as told.

Instead of picking it up, Donatti kicked the weapon at least fifty feet behind him, out of anyone’s reach. “One less firearm to go off in my face. Now it’s your turn, Virgil. Put the gun in your holster. I don’t want any fuckups.”

“You don’t want me to do him? The Jew boy?”

“Why would you do him? You’ve got him precisely where you want him. He’ll shit on command for you. Learn to take advantage when fortune shines on you.”

“Now, that’s a very good point, Mr. Donatti. A very good point.”

“And because I’ve been so generous with you, you’ll send something my way, huh?”

“You better believe it, sir.”

“Can I talk now, Chris?”

“No, not yet. And don’t you dare act familiar with me.” He shot the floor, an inch away from Decker’s foot, pulverizing cement into dust. To Merrin: “Didn’t I tell you to put the gun away?” Donatti became suddenly impatient. “You’re pissing me off. Do it!”

Quickly, Merrin stowed the gun, keeping a firm grip on Chaim’s throat.

“Push him on the floor,” Donatti told him. “Let him feel what it’s like to crawl like an insect. Because that’s what he is… a fucking bug.”

Merrin grabbed Lieber by the collar and pushed him to the ground, stepping on his back to flatten him out. Chaim was sobbing.

Merrin grinned. “I don’t know of any bug that cries, Mr. Donatti.”

“Everybody cries, Virgil.”

Three bullets in rapid succession-one in the forehead, one in the throat, and one in the groin. Merrin didn’t even have a chance to react. He just stared out of vacant blue eyes, the same hoggish expression on his face, then collapsed onto Chaim, a sprinkler of squirting blood. Lieber let go with ear-piercing screams-uncontrolled and at maximum volume-flailing his arms and legs, pushing the body from his back. Freeing himself from the corpse, Lieber remained on the floor, heaving deep, big gulps as if he were being choked.

Decker could hear himself breathing.

Donatti was speaking to him. “Back up and keep your hands up.”

“I don’t…” Decker shut himself up. He was trembling so hard, it took all his concentration to remain on his feet. He did as instructed.

“Now go pick up your brother-in-law from the ground. He stinks. I think he shit in his pants. Can’t anyone take a little pressure anymore?”

Shaking but trying to hide it, Decker went over to Chaim and lifted him to his feet. “Are you all right?”

Chaim was still sobbing.

“Shut him up.”

“He’s terrified-”

“He’s giving me a headache. Shut him up!”

Chaim clamped his trembling hands over his mouth, his body quivering and unstable on his feet. Tears ran from his eyes. Decker slipped his arm around his shoulders. Chaim melted into his arms.

Donatti went over to Merrin’s body, still flowing with rich, oxygenated blood, and plucked the gun from the holster. “Guess who has all the wea-pons,” he sang out. “Guess whose ass you’d better start kiss-ing.”

“What do you want?” Decker whispered.

“I’d like your wife, and probably the easiest way to get her is to shoot you.” He stared at Decker, his eyes filled with avarice and hunger. “What do you think, Lieutenant? Her luscious lips around my cock, those gorgeous baby blues looking up at my face… Good, huh?”

Decker felt his stomach churn. “You’ve got the gun. You’re entitled to dream.”

Donatti grinned. “Nice comeback. You can live another five minutes.” His eyes went to Chaim. “I just shot a nice piece of my income.” He aimed the gun at Chaim’s head. “To make up for that, you’re going to work for me. I need details. You can start now.”

Silence.

Donatti shot a bullet at Lieber’s feet, making him do a little hop. “Don’t keep me waiting, you stupid kike. Tell me about the operation.”

“I…” Chaim cleared his throat. “I was helping… import. I was importing-”

“If you can’t stop stumbling over your words, I’m going to kill you. Now try it again. Go on, I’m getting testy.”

“I bring in the stuff… in my electronic equipment.”

“From where?”

“Europe… Israel… Asia… all over.”

“And Merrin was your distributor?”

Chaim nodded, breaking away from Decker. He tried to stand straighter, but his legs were still wobbly.

“What’s your cut?”

“It works out… to about…” Heavy breathing. But it was clear that Lieber was calming down. “I took about thirty percent of street value.”

“Well, now you’re down to twenty.”

“Sure… yeah. Okay. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, ‘Mr. Donatti.’ ”

“Yes, sure… Whatever you want, Mr. Donatti.”

“Who did Merrin sell it to?”

“The locals kids from the townships… behamas… beasts. Kids with nothing better to do than to go crazy.”

“These vermin over here…” Donatti pointed to the corpses. “They were locals?”

Chaim nodded.

“Merrin sold directly to the boys?”

“He had… others in the force to help him out.”

“Good to know. How’d you get into this?”

“Merrin… he was using dancers… him and the Israelis and the Arabs… but then they got caught in Miami. They… needed another way to import the stuff.” He looked at Decker. “Weiss suggested me because I needed money.”

“You worked with him before?”

“I borrowed some money from him, yes. But I paid it back. I wouldn’t have done it.” Again a look at Decker. “But Merrin found out that I was… I was doing things.”

Slowly, Donatti grinned. “I thought you looked familiar. Course all you kikes look alike when you’re naked.”

The videotapes from the whorehouse. Decker raised his eyes. Jen had told him she didn’t know Chaim Lieber. And maybe she hadn’t known him. Maybe he had come under an alias. Or, just as likely, Donatti instructed her to deny knowing him. And, of course, she’d follow orders. Stupid of him to believe anything she told him. She’d said it herself. She was a user, too.

“Merrin offered you an opportunity, then,” Donatti said.

Chaim nodded. “He told me it would be just a couple of times. But then… the money… the money was good.”

A quick glimpse at Decker.

“It’s not like you think. I didn’t squander the money… yes, a few massages-but mostly, I used it for business. For my business. I used it to feed my large family. I used it to take care of my elderly father. I used it for the local schools and synagogues. Why should I care if I take from the pockets of thugs who crash cars, have sex like animals, and spit when they see you walking down the street? Why should I care if they blow their brains out on drugs? And why should a self-righteous prick like my brother ruin everything for me? Him… the moral do-gooder who has been on and off drugs for ten years. Who borrowed money from me and from my father without ever paying any of it back. Who never raised a finger to help out with my father or help out with the business because he was too stoned to get out of bed. Who had the nerve to tell me how to raise my children when he has never accepted responsibility for anything in his life!”

Indignation gave him a certain amount of ill-placed dignity, except that Decker had heard it all before-the self-rationalization and situational ethics to help defend evil actions. “So you gave Ephraim over to Merrin and his goons because you were resentful?”

“Not to kill!” Chaim spat out. “Just to talk some sense into him.” In a quieter voice. “And if they scared him a little, so be it.”

“They did more than scare him,” Decker said softly.

“I wouldn’t know…” Chaim looked away. “Something went wrong.”

“A bit of an understatement,” Decker said.

“And who gave you the right to be my judge and jury?” Chaim snarled.

Donatti said, “What happened with your daughter? Did you set her up, too?”

“I didn’t set anyone up!” Abruptly, Chaim’s eyes watered. “Especially my daughter. I loved Shayndaleh! She was my own flesh and blood. It wasn’t… She wasn’t supposed to be there. I don’t know what happened!”

“What happened was they killed her.”

“It was an accident!” Chaim cried out. “They claimed they knew where she was. They were supposed to bring her back to me. She resisted. A gun went off-”

“She knew them, Chaim,” Decker broke in. “They killed her because she could identify them. It wasn’t any accident.”

Donatti said, “They don’t call you lieutenant for nothing.”

“No, you’re wrong. It wasn’t like that at all!” Chaim protested. “They said they could rescue her.” He started sobbing. “They said she struggled, that she was screaming. It wasn’t meant to happen that way.” He became hysterical. “I didn’t kill her. I DIDN’T KILL HER-”

Donatti’s gun spat three pellets of hot lead, leaving Chaim Lieber with three blood-filled holes in the center of his chest. He was still forming words when he fell to the ground, his lips ring-shaped, mouthing the letter O.

The air smothered with its silence. Decker’s heart was pounding against his chest. “What… why’d you… why’d you do that?”

“Why?” Donatti glared at him with stone eyes. “Because that bitch was mine, Decker. It would have been one thing if she left on her own, but she didn’t. She was taken from me. Nobody steals from a Donatti and gets away with it. Nobody! Not even her father!”

He was panting like the dog he was.

“Besides, I dislike self-justifying bastards. Asshole’s worse than I am. At least, I’m honest about what I do.”

Donatti was holding two guns-Merrin’s Smith & Wesson.32 in his left hand, his own semiautomatic in the right. He went over to Lieber’s body and tattooed the inert hand with gunpowder by firing off the rest of the magazine from the semiautomatic, in various directions. When he was done, he left the gun at Chaim’s side. Several of the stray bullets had missed Decker’s feet by inches. When Donatti got back on his feet, he was holding Merrin’s revolver in his left hand.

“If anyone had shot you, it would have been Merrin, don’t you think?”

Decker regarded Donatti. He was sweating hard, breathing quickly. Throughout the process, he’d been grimacing in pain. If Decker moved now, if he was quick enough…

Donatti read his thoughts and fished out the Beretta from his jacket. He had the Smith & Wesson fixed on his head, the Beretta on his chest. “C’mon. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

The opportunity had come and gone.

Donatti kept the.32 on Decker’s head. “You ever been shot?”

“Several times.”

“Where?”

“Left shoulder… arm.”

“Hurts like hell.” The Beretta still in his right hand, Donatti pulled up his black sweater, exposing his bandage.

“Who did that?” Decker asked. “Merrin? Chaim? One of Merrin’s boys?”

Donatti sidestepped the question. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve been plugged, but I still don’t like it.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Hold still.” Donatti pointed the.32 at Decker’s chest. “And I mean real still.”

The gun spat fire, grazing Decker’s rib cage. He jumped as pain burst through his body.

“Now we’re twins,” Donatti announced.

“Fuck you!” Decker snarled as he grabbed his side. Blood reddened his fingers. Enraged, he bolted forward, but Donatti had taken several steps back, brandishing the weapons toward Decker’s head.

“Ah, ah, ah…”

Decker stopped and hissed out, “Go ahead and shoot me, you goddamn son of a bitch! I’m not dancing for your amusement!”

“I’m not making you dance, Lieutenant. I’m turning you into a real live hero.” The next shot grazed his hip. Decker doubled over in pain.

“I think that’s enough.” Donatti switched hands, keeping the semiautomatic on Decker’s face. Swiftly, he bent down, wrapped Merrin’s dead fingers around his pistol, and depleted it of ammunition. When he got up, he wiped his pants with latex-gloved hands, the Beretta pointed somewhere within the vicinity of Decker’s groin.

“You should lie down. Losing blood can make you light-headed.”

“Fuck you!” Decker stood up straight for spite. The air reeked of sweat, waste, and blood. His head was on fire. Sparkles danced before his eyes, but he concentrated on his breathing and refused to succumb to the nausea in his stomach and the dizziness in his brain. He’d go out like a man, in full consciousness, face-to-face and eye-to-eye.

Donatti was analyzing the scene. “Well, it looks to me like Lieber and Merrin shot each other, Lieutenant. Not to mention these two dodos, Merrin’s two top runners for ecstasy in the local high schools.”

“Philip Caldwell and Ryan Anderson.”

“You’ve done your homework. Yes, Caldwell and Anderson. And yes, you’re right. They knew Shayndie from hanging at the raves.”

“They took her out of hiding to call my brother,” Decker panted out. “They figured that… that my brother would tell me about it. And that would throw me off for a while. They murdered her… but figured I wouldn’t even look for the body for a couple of days because of the phone call. It was a good idea except they dumped her in a public place where she was easily found.”

Donatti rolled his eyes. “Idiots.”

“The boys knew where you had her stashed.” Decker’s eyes traveled to Donatti’s ice-blue orbs. “That means you had to have known them. Did they work for you?”

“Just the opposite. Caldwell had been one of those pains in the ass who had passed through my portals when I used to take in straight boys. Cocksucker abused my hospitality. Such rudeness has its consequences.” He shook his head. “He killed Ephraim Lieber in my style, thinking all he had to do to be me was pop the trigger. Well, they say that imitation is the highest form of flattery.”

The room was silent except for heavy breathing.

Decker spoke softly. “Now what?”

“Well, you can spin it any way you want, but I’d tell it like this: a distraught father / brother avenging the deaths of his daughter and brother from evil drug runners and a corrupt police chief. Let the pissant die a hero. Or you can tell the cops the truth, that Lieber was scum-a sniveling, weak, groveling piece of shit who got blow jobs from hookers and who set up his own brother and his own daughter. Then he tried to cover his tracks, bringing out some hick L.A. cop to pump NYPD for information. When the cop got to be a pain in the ass, he attempted to clean him. But the hick cop happened to be just a little smarter than Lieber thought.”

“I can spin it any way I want…” Decker felt sweat pouring off his brow, the left side of his body throbbing in pain. “You’re letting me walk, Chris?”

“Is that a mistake?”

“Probably.”

“I don’t think so, Decker. If you come after me, you’ll fuck yourself up. Ultimately, it’s your word against mine.”

Decker managed to smile, even though the entire left side of his torso pulsated with burning agony. “I have a little more credibility than you do.”

“Think so? Well, I’ve got the lawyers, and they’re gonna tell a jury this: We were a partnership pure and simple-both of us hand in hand, doing it together, and both of us getting shot in the process.”

He pointed to his own ribs.

“If I go down, old man, you go down. Because all Hershfield has to do is ask you one simple question, Lieutenant. Who came to whom for help?”

The words cut through Decker more powerfully than his wounds.

“And the fact that you’re alive to tell the story gives me credibility,” Donatti continued. “Because everyone knows if I had wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

No one spoke.

“And… I’m much cuter than you.” Donatti gave a charming smile. “Hershfield’s specialty is voir dire. All he has to do is stack the jury with women and a few blue-collar men and you haven’t a chance in hell for conviction. The most you’ll be able to hope for is a hung jury. Meanwhile, you’ve not only fucked up your life, you fucked up your brother’s family because all the shit will come out. As far as I’m concerned, another trial will only enhance my reputation.”

For a moment, Donatti debated telling Decker that the same motherfuckers who took out Shayndie had also tried to pop his wife. That if he hadn’t been there, the lieutenant would be a widower today. But he decided against it. It would give Decker a rationale for letting him go. That’s not what he wanted. He wanted to make Decker suffer, humiliated by his own actions and his resulting failure… because Decker had humiliated him in Terry’s eyes eight years ago.

He started to back away, keeping the gun on Decker’s head. “I’m going to turn around. All the nearby guns have been emptied. You could make a run for the ones behind you, but you’d better be quick and you’d better shoot to kill, because if you miss… you’re dead. And then I go after your family-one by one by one. If you happen to get lucky with a direct hit, remember your promise to me. You take care of Terry and my son. I really love that little girl.”

Police sirens could be heard in the background.

Jonathan had finally gotten to a phone booth.

“I think that’s my exit song,” Donatti told him.

Thinking about the weapons, Decker watched him back away. How his body seared with pain! He was compromised. He couldn’t walk without limping, let alone run. Any attempt to seize a gun would give Donatti more than enough time to kill him.

But if he did nothing, then he allowed the murdering scum to walk away. Not just any murderer, a man who had slain his own brother’s relative in cold blood and done it as easily as blowing his nose.

Pick off my family-one by one by one.

And even if Decker had the gun in his hand, could he do it? Shoot to kill in cold blood? Just put a bullet through Donatti’s brain? The world would be better off. Even Terry and the kid would be better off-especially Terry and the kid. Could he make that calculated decision to pop him without direct threat?

How did the psycho do it?

Of course, that was the answer: Donatti was a psycho.

At least, the bastard hadn’t given him that decision to make. Decker knew he wasn’t about to play heroics-not with the stench of his own fresh blood wafting over him, with this abattoir around him. He owed his family common sense. He owed his family his opting to live.

Decker yelled out, “You’re not playing fair, Chris. You know I can’t chance it.”

Donatti grinned. “The hands are the hands of Esau, but the voice is the voice of Jacob!”

What was he talking about? “I ain’t sticking a fork in it, Chris!” Decker continued. “We’re not done yet!”

Donatti gave him a thumbs-up. “Suck my cock, Lieutenant!”

He turned and broke into a jog.

And then he was gone.