Anthony didn’t move.
Will slid his knee across the floor, trying to get a better angle. Reuben’s flanks were protected by the deep elevator alcove. The only shot that could take him out would have to come from the front.
‘Stop.’ Reuben’s eyes tracked back and forth between Anthony and Will, and then Faith.
She was on the other side of the escalator. Another triangle, again with Reuben at the center. Will heard footsteps as more officers approached, but he didn’t dare take his eye off Reuben Figaroa.
‘Anthony,’ Reuben ordered. ‘Get over here, boy.’
Faith said, ‘Anthony, sweetheart. Come to me. It’s okay.’
Will slid over a little bit more. His finger tensed on the trigger.
Reuben screamed, ‘Now, God dammit!’
Anthony stepped back.
Will took his finger off the trigger.
Reuben wrapped his injured arm around his son. Anthony fell into him, his head blocking his father’s face. The Sig pressed at the boy’s temple. Anthony didn’t struggle. He didn’t speak. He had learned to be still when his father was angry. All of his fear channeled into his lip, that quivered like his adoptive grandmother’s, and the look of resignation in his eyes that he’d inherited from Angie.
When she talked to Will about the abuse, she never talked about it. She only gave advice: All you have to do is wait until it’s over.
Anthony was waiting for the inevitable. The screaming. The hitting. The black eye. The split lip. The sleepless nights as he waited for the door to open.
‘Back away.’ Reuben had to rest the side of his hand on his son’s shoulder. He was panting hard. Blood poured from the bullet hole just below his clavicle. They were at the same impasse as the one upstairs, only now, Reuben was even more desperate.
Will said, ‘Put down the gun. You don’t want to do this.’
‘Shit.’ Reuben’s hand started shaking. Blood slipped down his other arm. The muscles were spasming, tensing his chest and shoulders. ‘What’d you hit me with?’
‘Hornaday sixty-grain TAP URBAN.’
‘Tactical Application for Police.’ Reuben’s eyelids were heavy. His face was slick with sweat. ‘Reduced penetration for urban environments.’
Will used his back foot to push his knee forward. He couldn’t come from the side. He had to get closer. ‘Sounds like you know your ammo.’
‘You see that Snake Slayer that bitch pulled?’
‘Probably had .410 Bonds in the chamber.’
‘Lucky I stopped her.’ Reuben blinked sweat out of his eyes. Will wondered if the man’s vision was blurring. There were a lot of important things near the clavicle. Subclavian arteries. Subclavian veins. Sara would know. She would record the damage in Reuben Figaroa’s autopsy, because if the man hurt Angie’s grandson, he would not walk out of here alive.
‘Let’s talk this out,’ Will said. ‘You’re gonna need surgery. I can help you.’
‘No more surgery.’ Reuben shook his head. He was blinking more slowly now. His arm was not so tight around Anthony. The muzzle of the Sig had tilted upward, but he could still put a bullet in his son’s brain.
Will moved closer.
Faith made a noise. Anthony looked at her. Will did not. He knew she was trying to wave the boy over.
‘Don’t.’ Reuben straightened the gun.
Will asked, ‘What’s the trigger pull on that Sig? Five and a half pounds? Six?’
Reuben nodded.
‘Why don’t you move your finger? You don’t want to make a mistake.’
‘I don’t make mistakes.’
Will slid closer. Ten feet. If Reuben moved just a little to the side, Will was close enough for the head shot. To make one. To receive one. Will couldn’t trust the gun in Reuben’s hand. It was upstairs all over again. Reuben could flick it out and kill Will. He could flick it back and kill Anthony.
Will said, ‘You’re not doing too well, man.’
‘I’m not,’ he agreed. The arm around Anthony started to relax again. The boy could pull away, but Reuben could still shoot the gun. At Anthony. At Will.
‘Let’s talk this out,’ Will repeated. He pushed a few inches closer. The rifle was out in front of him. Thirty-nine inches of weapon. One hand on the grip, the other on the stock. Will slid his hand farther down the barrel. His shoulder would dislocate if the gun went off. He curved his back, buying the illusion of extra space.
Reuben said, ‘I can’t leave my boy alone.’
Will couldn’t look at the kid. He couldn’t see Angie’s eyes looking back at him. ‘You don’t have to take Anthony with you.’
‘There’s nothing left for him,’ Reuben said. ‘Jo’s gone. My career is gone. That video gets out, and my freedom is gone.’
Will said, ‘Do you see how close I am?’
Reuben’s eyelids fluttered. He straightened the Sig.
Will said, ‘I can pull the trigger right now.’
‘So can I.’ Reuben’s breathing was shallow. His skin had no color. Will could see every single pore in his face, every single follicle of hair. ‘I’m not going to leave my boy alone.’ He swallowed. ‘Jo wouldn’t want that. Her real mother left her. She would never leave her son.’
Will pushed himself closer. He thought about why Reuben was doing this, how the loss of control had spun out his life. He asked, ‘How do I stop this, Reuben? Tell me how to save your son.’
‘Who killed her?’
Will tried to think of the best lie to tell him, the one that would keep him from murdering his son. That Jo was still alive, that Reuben had something to live for? That Jo was dead, but the woman behind her murder was in police custody? That she was Jo’s mother? That she had tried to ransom her own grandson?
Reuben was out of patience. ‘Who, man? Who killed Jo?’
‘The woman upstairs.’ He couldn’t tell if he’d made the right choice, but he had to keep going. ‘Her name is Virginia Souza. She’s a prostitute who met Jo in jail. They argued. Souza took out her revenge.’
To Will’s great relief, Reuben started nodding, like that made sense. ‘Was it over drugs? What they fought over?’
‘Yes.’ Will moved another millimeter, then another. His hand slid farther down the barrel. Too far to safely hold on to the stock. There was no way he could safely fire the rifle now. ‘Souza knew that Jo was rich, that she had money. She followed her to the party. She kidnapped her. She took Anthony.’
Reuben nodded again. The reason was obvious. His wife had hidden her addiction. She would hide other things. ‘Bitch is dead now.’
‘That’s right,’ Will said.
‘Jo too.’ He stopped to swallow. ‘She betrayed me. Betrayed everything we had. She didn’t listen to me.’
‘That’s what women do.’
‘They just take and take and spit you out like you’re nothing.’
The muzzle of the Sig had tilted up again, but again not enough to clear Anthony’s head. Reuben was faltering. His muscles were twitching. His nerves were in disarray. His finger could pull the trigger by mistake or by design. Whether it was pointing at Will or at Anthony when it happened was going to be a delicate dance.