I creep to the edge of the office door and drop to the floor. When I peek around the corner into the office, I see Mason counting a stack of money from a briefcase full of more stacks. The briefcase is sitting on the empty desk up against the far wall, so Mason’s back is turned. Wade stands behind him, about ten feet away, gun in hand.
“This is it,” Mason says. “We’re set.”
Mason starts to close the briefcase, but Wade says, “Leave it.” Wade clicks his gun safety, and as Mason turns around I duck out of sight.
“Brilliant, a backup gun. Why didn’t I think of that?” Mason says sarcastically.
“Only one of us can walk out of here, you know that,” Wade says.
“I know that, Wade. It’s not gonna be you.”
“I’m the one with the gun.”
“But you have no spine, Wade. You want the money, but you’re not willing to go all the way for it. I made it so easy for you; all you had to do was ride with Fred and make sure he went into the house, and you couldn’t even handle that.”
“You were sending me to the slaughter,” Wade says. “You got rid of everyone else who was in the way of that cash; why not me?”
“You gutless fuck. I’ve spent every second since that night covering up for your mistake. You think I planned to wait until the last minute to take you out? After all that trouble?”
“You had to,” Wade says. “You couldn’t have done this without me. You’ve been stringing me along just like everyone else. Deb Maloney’s the only one smart enough to know she was getting hosed, and that’s probably because she’s more greedy than you. I’ll bet you even let Sam think she was going with you, right up until those kids killed her.”
“Funny you should mention that,” Mason starts, but I don’t let him finish. I step into the doorway with my gun aimed at Wade’s back. Mason sees me and I know he’s surprised, even if he doesn’t show it.
“There’s a gun pointed at the back of your head, Wade,” Mason says.
“Don’t move,” I say.
Mason won’t stop smiling. I should have said “Don’t smile.”
Instead I say, “Wade, did you send those kids after me?”
“It doesn’t matter what I say now, Sam. You never listened to me anyway. I tried to warn you—”
“Sam. Shoot him,” Mason interrupts.
“She should be aiming that thing at you, not me. You’re the one who wanted to kill her. But I suppose you convinced her otherwise.”
“Put down the gun, Wade,” I say.
Wade looks over his shoulder at me, sizing up the situation. He turns, his gun pointed, but not aimed, at me. His eyes plead silently for reprieve.
“Give me the gun, Wade. We don’t have to do this,” I tell him.
Wade doesn’t budge. “I have to do this,” he says. “I’m not going to jail.”
“You said yourself you choose your battles. Don’t pick this one,” I say.
“Listen to me for once,” Wade says. “The other day, I . . . I was trying to tell you, you’re a good cop, Smack. And you also have a good heart. But please, don’t let it get in the way—”
“Hey, Wade,” Mason calls, and Wade closes his eyes like he knows what’s coming. I take a step to the left and see the tiny pistol in Mason’s hand. It’s a Mexican standoff, but Mason’s the only one without a gun pointed at him. “She’s not listening.”
At the sound of gunfire, Wade’s eyes open and set blankly on me. Then he falls to the floor.
I am frozen there. A pang of regret hits me in the chest so hard that I want to drop to my knees and sob. But with Wade out of the way, I’m aimed at Mason. I don’t move.
And neither does he: he’s aiming at me. Now it’s a real standoff. Mason smiles.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. But he doesn’t drop his aim. Neither do I.
I don’t.
“Come on, Sam, this is what we wanted,” he tells me, motioning to the briefcase, still open and full of cash. “The money, getting out of here . . . we’re on our way. You and me.” He lowers his gun and steps toward me.
“What about Deb?” I ask, maintaining my aim.
“Baby, I had to keep her close, right to the end. I let her think what she wanted, to keep you out of trouble. I let her think she had control.”
“Were you having an affair?”
Mason smiles that unbelievable smile of his, like the question is preposterous, even though the answer is even worse.
“She got what she wanted, and now so are you.” He tucks the pistol in his pants and moves toward me. He tries to take my gun, but I don’t let go, so instead he moves my arm out of the way, pulls me to him, and kisses me.
It only takes a moment before I kiss him back. This is what I wanted so badly. Not the money. Not the escape. Just this. I would have traded everything for this.
He pulls away and looks at me, and his eyes cross just a little. I knew I was in love with him the first time he looked at me this way.
He tries to back away, but I won’t let him go. I want to hold on to this moment. I want to remember what it feels like to let my heart get in the way. Because I will never let it happen again.
He kisses me and I can’t help myself. I loosen my grip on the gun and hear it clank when it hits the floor.
While we kiss, I feel Mason’s gun press against my waist. It’s then I know that something will always come between us. This has to be good-bye.
“Come on, baby. We can’t stay here all night,” he whispers between kisses.
I reluctantly let go of him. He looks at me with those eyes one last time, and though he doesn’t say he loves me, I know it’s not on purpose.
I don’t say I love him either.
He goes to the table and tends to the briefcase, and to what I expect is his final farewell to me. He takes a moment to put the last part of his plan in action, but I have finally accepted that I am not in on it. Not in the way I’d wanted.
As he turns, his aim is off. I am no longer standing there waiting for him. I won’t give him a clean shot. I’m on the floor, with Wade’s gun pointed at him. Before Mason can react, I fire and hit him in the arm.
Mason falls hard to the floor, gun in his hand, evidence of the truth. Like a toddler whose reaction is delayed, Mason doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He just looks at me.
“I only trusted you because I didn’t trust myself,” I say.
He holds his breath as he tries to prop himself up on his good arm, straining to point his gun at me with his bad one.
I stand up with Wade’s gun, my hands trembling, tears again blurring my vision.
“Drop the gun, Mason. Drop it or I’ll kill you. I swear I will.”
He lets the tip of his pistol rest on the floor, but only because his arm is losing strength fast. He sits up.
“You can’t kill me. I love you. Don’t you love me?” He waits for me to answer.
I lower my gun. I keep my eyes on him as I feel around Wade’s coat for a radio. My fingers are numb as I turn on the power and turn down the squelch.
“All units. I need backup. Officer down, a block from I-90 at an abandoned shipyard, cross street unknown, due south of Cermak,” I report, my voice shaking. “Dispatch immediately, all units. Officer down.”
I watch Mason reach for his gun with his left, unwounded hand and try to aim. He’s testing me one last time.
I don’t hesitate. I shoot him again, and this time I make it count. He falls backward, his gun thrown from his hand when my bullet hits him in the crotch. Painful, but not fatal; I won’t let him off the easy way. He’s going to have to suffer through the rest of this life.
“Repeat. Officer down,” I say into the radio.
“They can’t help me, Sam,” Mason says.
“I wasn’t talking about you.”
I take Wade’s handcuffs off his belt. Mason lies on the floor, clutching his groin and clenching his jaw. I cuff Mason’s wrists. Then I stand over him.
“You think this hurts?” I ask. “I’d break your heart if I could.”
Mason writhes in pain, unable to craft a comeback.
I light a cigarette and wait for backup, like I should have the night Mason killed Fred.