“Like a hammer hitting a plate of—Never mind, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Paxton tugged his shirt again and they continued to back toward the elevator. And again the detectives advanced with them. As they all drew closer to the elevator, Nikki looked at the panel above the door. It indicated that the car was waiting there on six.
Heat spoke in a barely audible voice. “Rales.”
“Yo.”
“Lose that car.”
Behind her, Raley keyed his mic and spoke quietly. “Lobby, call elevator down from six immediately.”
Paxton heard the elevator softly kick into motion right behind him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He turned quickly over his shoulder, in time to see the 6 digit go dark and the 5 light up. He didn’t move enough for Nikki to get a clear shot, but while he was distracted, she took two steps closer.
He turned back and saw her. “Stop right there.”
Heat stopped. She had closed the gap and he was ten feet away. Not close enough yet, but closer. She couldn’t see Paxton’s face, just his eye, looking wild peeking out from the gap between the gun barrel and Rook’s head. His voice was building to a rage. “Now you boxed me in.”
“You’re not leaving. I told you that.” She worked to keep the calm in her tone to counter his fury.
“I’m going to shoot.”
“It’s time to put your gun down, Noah.”
“His blood will be on you.”
Rook made eye contact with her and mouthed, Shoot. Him.
She had no shot and said so with the smallest head shake.
“You screwed up everything, Detective, you know that? I wish Pochenko had finished the job on you.”
Nikki’s eyes fluttered and a weight sank in her gut.
“You did that?” said Rook.
“Let it go, Rook,” said Nikki, struggling to let go of it herself. Behind her she heard F-?bombs muttered by Raley and Ochoa.
“You sent that animal to her apartment?” Rook’s nostrils flared. “You sent him to her home?” His chest expanded with each breath as his outrage grew more heated. “You son of a…bitch.” He spun his body away from the pistol, hurling himself. A loud gunshot echoed in the hall as Rook dropped hard to the floor.
Paxton fell to one knee beside him, moaning, with blood streaming from his shoulder onto Rook. His gun was on the rug beside them and Noah grabbed for it.
Nikki lunged and body-?tackled him. She slammed Paxton onto his back and pinned him down with her knees on his chest. He had the gun in his hand, but he hadn’t had time to raise it. She held her Sig Sauer inches from his face. His eyes flitted to his gun hand, calculating.
“Go ahead,” said Detective Heat. “I need a new blouse anyway.”
At La Chaleur, the sidewalk café outside the Guilford, the after-?work crowd was craning to watch the police activity. The sun had just gone down, and in the quieting darkness, the flashing lights from the cruisers and ambulances reflected in their cosmos and eighteen-?dollar glasses of Sancerre.
Over between the café and the front steps of the apartment building, the lights strobed on the backs of two plainclothes cops facing Detective Heat. One of them put away his notebook. They each shook her hand. Nikki leaned back against the warm stone fa?ade of the Guilford and watched the shooting investigation team cross away to their black Crown Victoria.
Rook stepped over and joined her. “‘Go ahead, I need a new blouse anyway’?”
“I think that was cool for short notice.” She tried to read him. “What, too girly?”
“Got Noah’s attention.” He followed her gaze to the incident investigation pair as they drove off for downtown. “Nobody told you to hand in your badge and gun, I hope.”
“No, they expect this will clear just fine. They were actually amazed I didn’t kill him.”
“Didn’t you want to?”