Traffic across town was mercifully light, thank goodness, allowing Lee to keep a heavy foot on the gas. Paul’s voice messages had sounded downright giddy, while his texts were oddly detached. Strange.
It was seven thirty in the evening when Lee arrived at the clinic. Paul’s Subaru was the only car parked in the lot. Lee put his key in the front lock and gave it a turn. To his surprise, the door did not open. He turned the key again, this time unlocking the door.
Lee said to Josh, “After hours we always keep this door locked, even if we’re here.”
Odd again, thought Lee, as he stepped into the dark foyer. Down the hall, well beyond the glass-enclosed reception area, light seeped from underneath Paul’s office door. It was the only light on in the clinic.
“Paul, are you here?” Lee’s voice sank into the gloom.
Josh came up close behind. “What’s up, Dad?”
Lee flicked a switch, turning on the clinic lights. The sudden brightness temporarily blinded him.
“Something is wrong,” Lee said in a whisper. “This—this isn’t right.”
“What’s not right?” asked Josh, whispering as well.
Instead of answering, Lee ventured cautiously down the hall. Everything here was familiar, down to the antiseptic smells, but somehow it was different. Josh kept close on Lee’s heels.
“Paul—are you here?” Lee called again.
No response.
Why isn’t he answering?
All the doors in the hallway, including the one at Lee’s back, were closed. Is that normal? He’d never paid particular attention, never noticed if the doors were shut after hours.
He turned the knob to Paul’s office, opening the door a crack. He was about to open it all the way when Josh lowered his arm like a barricade.
Turning, Lee saw Josh had the gun Karen had given him in his hand. Josh motioned for Lee to back up a step. Smart move. If a threat awaited them inside, Josh was better trained and equipped to neutralize it.
Josh opened the door wider, edging around to his left as he sliced the space with his gun like cutting pieces of pie. He tried his best to see any threats before those threats saw him.
Is the office empty? Lee wondered.
It must have been all clear, because Josh went in. He glanced left, then right, and in a strangled voice, shouted: “Dad!”
Lee’s heart sank. He burst into the room, where he saw Josh hugging the wall to the left of the open door, his gun aimed at a spot on the floor. Poking out from behind the desk, Lee saw Paul, facedown on the ground, arms splayed in front of him as though he were in freefall. The piles of papers his partner had complained about hours earlier were blotted with drops of red.
Dried blood matted Paul’s dark hair. There was a huge wound in his right temple, a horrible jagged black hole ringed with blood. The carpeting beneath him was soiled dark. Blood sheeted down Paul’s neck in thin streaks like exposed veins, some of it pooling in his ear canal. His neck was twisted in a grisly, unnatural angle. The pallor of his skin was the same bluish hue of Yoshi’s, his body equally still.
A scream bubbled up in Lee’s throat as he rushed to Paul’s side. Dropping to his knees, Lee pressed his fingertips against his partner’s cold flesh, feeling for a pulse and finding none. Images of Paul’s wife and children flashed in Lee’s mind as he took Paul’s cold, lifeless hand in his own.
“Paul—Paul—please—oh God, Paul!”
A flash of movement drew Lee’s attention to the doorway, where a man appeared as if out of nowhere. He held a gun in his right hand, pointing it at Lee. He was tall and thin, with a wispy dark mustache showing vividly against his ghostly pallor. A gray hooded sweatshirt shielded his eyes.
Josh was out of view, hidden behind the open door. The gunman fired three shots from six feet away. He should have hit something. A shoulder. Head. Neck. Something. Instead the bullets splintered only drywall. Turning with a quickness that belied his age, Lee leapt behind the desk to take shelter. The gunman aimed again, fired again, and missed again, as the desk shielded Lee from the bullets.
Before he could change positions, get settled, and squeeze the trigger once more, Josh kicked the door with his boot and sent it smashing into the killer’s body with force. Snapping his arm out like a whip, Josh seized the gunman’s wrist and gave a hard yank.
The man stumbled into the room and Josh, who kept hold of that wrist, went with him. The killer’s free arm pinwheeled over his head in a wide arc as he fought for balance. His eyes, visible now, were wide and glossy with surprise.
The gunman slammed into Paul’s desk, catching sight of Lee as he doubled over. Taking advantage, Lee jumped up and threw a punch, a solid jab that connected hard with the man’s jaw. Pain exploded in Lee’s knuckles.
The killer stumbled back. Josh grunted as he went with him, continuing his struggle to pry the gun loose. The two became entangled, momentum carrying them both to the floor. As he fell, the killer moved his gun in front of Josh’s face.
Lee’s body went rigid at the sound of the bang. Two other shots rang out. Had Josh been shot in the face? His shoulder? His neck? It had happened too fast for Lee to see. The entwined pair hit the floor with a thud.
Lee scrambled to his feet, leapt over the desk, and ripped the man off his son’s body, screaming, “JOSH! JOSH!”
The killer went backward as Lee fell forward onto Josh. Even though the gunman was now behind him, the threat no longer registered. All he saw was blood on the front of Josh’s shirt. Lee ripped the shirt open, popping several buttons as he flexed his arms back. He searched frantically for the entry wounds, seeing none.
Where has he been shot?
“Dad!”
Josh’s voice lifted Lee from his drowning panic. The boil of his blood settled.
“Dad—Dad, I’m fine! I’m not hurt!”
Lee crumpled to the floor, chest heaving, gasping for air. Then he carefully regarded the gunman, specifically noting the three dark splotches marking the front of the man’s gray sweatshirt. Josh stood and aimed his gun at the dead man—a gun Lee now knew had three fewer bullets in the magazine.