We went up and over and came out between two corrugated-metal storage sheds eighty yards away as Ric took out the stainless-steel ten, pointed it at Peter, and said something to the guy with the revolver. Peter was standing with his hands up the way he’d had actors stand in his movies. Eighty yards away, you could see that his face was white and his eyes looked scooped out behind the thick glasses. Dani was maybe a half step in front of him. Peter said something to Ric and put out his hands, maybe saying please don’t shoot, and Ric raised his gun to eye level and Dani went for him. I yelled, but it didn’t do any good. Ric’s gun popped once and the right back quarter of Dani’s head blew off. Then I had the Dan Wesson out and Pike had his .357 and we were firing at them, eighty yards away, me screaming at Peter to get down, but Peter standing there, still with his hands up.

The guy with the revolver went down.

Ric ran toward the Sentra, firing as he went, and the guy in the red jacket pulled out a black automatic. Bullets slapped into the little corrugated sheds around us with the sound of hammers hitting garbage cans and left silver streaks on the tarmac where they hit and bounced into a concrete bridge support. The guy in the red jacket fired fast, bapbapbap, and then he went for the Sentra, too. I shot him in the back. He fell in through the Sentra’s front passenger window as Ric roared away, fishtailing into storage sheds and a boat trailer, and then through the far gate.

When the Sentra was gone, the storage yard was still.

We got to Dani as fast as we could, but there wasn’t anything to do.

Peter said, “He told that guy Ric to kill me.” He was talking fast and there was a knot below his left eye, like maybe someone had hit him there. His hands were still in the air. “Just like that, he said kill’m. I said I’m Peter Alan Nelsen. I said you can’t kill me. He said, you wanna bet? And then these guys were bringing us out here and they were gonna kill me.” Me. Me and I.

I stood up. “Dani.”

He was hopping from foot to foot, confused and squinting at me. “What?”

“They killed Dani.” I said it carefully, each word distinct.

He gave me more of the confused and said, “What?” Pike was squatting next to her body and I was standing over her, and Peter and I were talking about her, but he hadn’t looked at her and he hadn’t said anything about her. He said, “I told’m you can’t do this to me. I’m Peter Alan Nelsen.”

I went over to him and said, “Put down your hands.”