The street was more of a mess than usual when they arrived. Logan had sped down there, following Peters’s car closely. He broke countless laws along the way, running red lights and pulling out in front of people, but he didn’t care. There was only one thing on his mind as he navigated the traffic, and it made him drip with sweat.
He stopped among the police cars. One officer wanted to argue with him, pushing back the perimeter as a crowd started to form. If it wasn’t for Peters giving the green light, Logan would never have made it past without striking the officer. Given how desperately frightened he was for Maggie and Jenny, it was entirely possible that he’d have done it.
“What do we know?” he asked Peters, gathering at the cars. The apartment building was right in front of them, the front door kicked in with no other signs of activity from the outside. He waited in the silence, then asked again. “Peters?”
“Two kids,” he said, distracted. “The shooter let them go, and they made the call from a nearby phone booth. Said it was a thin man with black hair and an athletic build. I’m already starting to think it’s—”
“Max,” Logan finished, gazing up at the sixth floor – his floor.
The building was too still. Logan suspected the killer had either left already or started to cool down. He wished the cops would hurry up and go inside, but he knew from experience that there was a procedure to follow. Rules that must be abided by. Logan hated this, because if that was really Max Colby in there, it meant people were dying because of him. Because he had dared look into this case in the first place. It wracked him with guilt, punishing him further for ever having fallen for Helen’s bullshit.
Then there was movement. The police tensed up, taking aim as something small crawled out of the front door. It took a moment to see clearly, but Logan soon recognized his downstairs neighbor. The cops were still aiming. Logan ran forward. There was shouting behind him, forcefully demanding that he step back. But Logan couldn’t. He was too invested in this to let anyone die. Especially if it was his fault.
When he reached his neighbor, he dropped to his knees. Mrs. Harrington was bleeding out, and the long, snaking trail of blood suggested she’d crawled down here from the fifth floor. Pretty brave for a woman of her age – she was nearing seventy and in fragile condition. Even more so now. Logan removed his jacket, pressed it against her bullet wound, and moved to pick her up. He put his hands under her, ready to lift.
Then it happened.
It was a double gunshot. Silenced, but still audible even from downstairs. Logan froze, weighing his options. He desperately wanted to help Mrs. Harrington, but in this moment of stillness, he realized it could be Maggie and Jenny up there, a bullet for each of them.
He stood up straight, then turned toward the police. A couple of them were hurrying forward, coming to collect the neighbor. Peters, however, stood in place while shaking his head. He seemed to know what was about to happen and was already advising he shouldn’t do it. Despite his advice, Logan did all he knew he could do. He didn’t have a choice.
He turned around, then ran inside.