“Right. Why bother with your hand when my objective is to kill you?” He poked the pistol into El Paso’s eye socket.
El Paso snorted. “You’re bluffing. You’re a cop.”
“A man first. A man whose wife was murdered by Malone. He was mine to kill.”
“Aww, too bad.”
“For you, definitely.”
“You won’t shoot me.”
“Say adiós, El Paso.”
“Go to hell, mother—”
Mitch pulled the trigger. El Paso shrieked. The switchblade fell from his opened fist and clattered to the floor.
“Dylan, let him go.”
She stepped away from the drawer immediately, which allowed Mitch to turn El Paso around. He bent his arm behind his back and shoved his empty knife hand up between his shoulder blades, then pushed him cheek down onto the edge of Dylan’s desk where his sneakers had left muddy smears.
John, Nix, and Lear rushed in, guns drawn. Nix didn’t even break stride as she continued toward them. Mitch yelled, “No, no, no! Don’t shoot. Under control, and he’s too valuable.”
She braked, and Mitch heard John order her to stand down.
Then, leaning over El Paso, who was struggling, he whispered into his ear, “I missed on purpose, you know. I really wanted to rob you of your knife hand.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mitch chuckled. “I’ve heard that before.”
Count on Lear to produce the handcuffs. He gave them to Mitch, who secured El Paso’s hands behind his back.
John told Nix to get officers over there to cordon off the building. He instructed Lear to notify NOPD that El Paso was in custody and to alert whoever owned the building that it was now a crime scene and had a bullet fired from Mitch’s nine-millimeter in the ceiling of Dr. Reede’s office.
The two detectives rushed from the room to do his bidding.
John helped Mitch haul El Paso into the lobby, where they made him sit on the floor, then used another pair of cuffs to secure him to a radiator.
“Thanks for the backup,” Mitch said.
“When I saw you bolting down the stairs, I cornered Clarence and he explained. We were right behind you. Now go see to Dylan.”
During all the activity of the last sixty seconds, she had stayed out of their way and was now standing in the doorway between the lobby and her sessions room, wringing her hands.
Mitch left John to Mirandize El Paso, while he went over to her and backed her into the parlor, as he always thought of it. “First of all, are you all right?”
She nodded. “Shaky.”
“Me, too. I’m all aquiver.”
“Don’t joke.”
“Wasn’t joking.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Secondly, what the hell are you doing here? If I wasn’t so relieved to see that you’re okay, I’d tell you how mad I am at you for leaving the camp.”
“I came for Malone’s patient file. To help you.”
“Thanks, but, Jesus, Dylan. When I realized you were here—”
