Burton looked at his gun, took a quick, frantic look at the crowd gathering around him, then pushed Mercy so that she fell into Rafe and took off, pulling people to block the path he’d taken. He was out the door before Rafe could catch his breath.

Shouts of “Gun, he has a gun!” rang out, sending people screaming and falling to the floor, hands over their heads. Parents threw themselves on top of their children. It was chaos.

But Mercy didn’t move.

“Mercy?” Rafe moved her so that she sat beside him. She just . . . stared.

“Put down the gun!” a man ordered, running up to them, his own gun drawn. He was young, maybe twenty-five, and the gun in his hand trembled.

Rafe carefully laid his weapon on the floor, his hands in the air.

“I’m an off-duty cop,” he said. “ID’s in my inside pocket.”

Visibly shaken, the airport officer patted his pocket and pulled out the ID. “Detective Raphael Sokolov,” he said, panting slightly. “What the hell is this about?”

“That man.” Rafe pointed at the door. “He left through there. He’s wanted by the FBI for bank robbery and murder. I need to get my phone, okay?”

The cop nodded warily. “Go ahead.”

Rafe held up his phone, then called 911 himself. While it rang, he tilted Mercy’s chin up as gently as he could. She was catatonic. Her gaze blank, she sat up on her own, but she was motionless. Like a robot whose battery had run down.

And . . . “Oh shit, she’s bleeding.” Blood had seeped through her white blouse and was spreading from her side to her back.

“This is the operator. What is your emergency?”

“This is Detective Raphael Sokolov.” He told the woman his badge number. “I need a BOLO for a fugitive escaping from the American terminal at the Sac airport. He assaulted a woman and ran when I tried to stop him. He’s about six one, two hundred fifty pounds, muscular, dark hair, black eyes. He was on foot, but he might have a vehicle. His name is Harry Franklin, but he goes by Ephraim Burton as well.” Harry Franklin was Burton’s real name. The name on the FBI’s most wanted list. “I also need an ambulance. The victim is bleeding and unresponsive. Conscious, but not cognizant.”

The airport cop had flagged down two other officers, who were now exiting the airport, weapons drawn. Rafe didn’t have too much confidence that they’d catch him, but at least they were in pursuit.

“Rafe? Rafe?” Sasha pushed through the crowd that had once again begun to gather now that the airport police had arrived. She carried two small carriers, one in each hand, and was followed by a tall African American woman who looked terrified. She must have been the friend that Mercy had told Sasha she was bringing. The brief relief that her friend wasn’t male was quickly shoved aside as Sasha dropped to her knees, carefully setting the two carriers aside. “Oh my God, Rafe. Are you okay? What happened?”