STEVENS WAS HALFWAY DOWN the block when the shooting started. He ducked behind a car as muzzle flashes lit up the dark block. Felt Windermere slam down beside him.
“Another shooter,” she said. “Where the hell’d he come from?”
Stevens peered over the car. “Wherever it was, he brought a hell of a gun.”
They searched the darkness for the shooter. Saw shadows moving against a patch of bright light up ahead.
“He wasn’t shooting at us,” Windermere said, “was he?”
Stevens shook his head. “Don’t think so.”
She was already running. “So what are we waiting for?”