“I can spin it any way I want.…” Decker felt sweat pouring off his brow, the left side of his body throbbing in pain. “You’re letting me walk, Chris?”

“Is that a mistake?”

“Probably.”

“I don’t think so, Decker. If you come after me, you’ll fuck yourself up. Ultimately, it’s your word against mine.”

Decker managed to smile, even though the entire left side of his torso pulsated with burning agony. “I have a little more credibility than you do.”

“Think so? Well, I’ve got the lawyers, and they’re gonna tell a jury this: We were a partnership pure and simple—both of us hand in hand, doing it together, and both of us getting shot in the process.”

He pointed to his own ribs.

“If I go down, old man, you go down. Because all Hershfield has to do is ask you one simple question, Lieutenant. Who came to whom for help?”

The words cut through Decker more powerfully than his wounds.

“And the fact that you’re alive to tell the story gives me credibility,” Donatti continued. “Because everyone knows if I had wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

No one spoke.

“And… I’m much cuter than you.” Donatti gave a charming smile. “Hershfield’s specialty is voir dire. All he has to do is stack the jury with women and a few blue-collar men and you haven’t a chance in hell for conviction. The most you’ll be able to hope for is a hung jury. Meanwhile, you’ve not only fucked up your life, you fucked up your brother’s family because all the shit will come out. As far as I’m concerned, another trial will only enhance my reputation.”

For a moment, Donatti debated telling Decker that the same mother-fuckers who took out Shayndie had also tried to pop his wife. That if he hadn’t been there, the lieutenant would be a widower today. But he decided against it. It would give Decker a rationale for letting him go. That’s not what he wanted. He wanted to make Decker suffer, humiliated by his own actions and his resulting failure… because Decker had humiliated him in Terry’s eyes eight years ago.

He started to back away, keeping the gun on Decker’s head. “I’m going to turn around. All the nearby guns have been emptied. You could make a run for the ones behind you, but you’d better be quick and you’d better shoot to kill, because if you miss… you’re dead. And then I go after your family—one by one by one. If you happen to get lucky with a direct hit, remember your promise to me. You take care of Terry and my son. I really love that little girl.”

Police sirens could be heard in the background.

Jonathan had finally gotten to a phone booth.

“I think that’s my exit song,” Donatti told him.

Thinking about the weapons, Decker watched him back away. How his body seared with pain! He was compromised. He couldn’t walk without limping, let alone run. Any attempt to seize a gun would give Donatti more than enough time to kill him.