“I will relay the message with all your sentiments.”

Banks exhaled, signifying resignation and/or fatigue. “Okay, let’s get this over with. You go first.”

“Rudy, you’re going to have to ditch the weapon. If they see the gun, they’re going to get nervous.”

Slowly Banks lowered the gun. Decker heard himself exhale audibly. “Smart. Put it down on the floor. Don’t kick it over to me. We don’t want anything to go off. Just gently put it down on the floor.”

Time crawled into second-hand ticks, but eventually Banks complied.

“Put your hands up and step away from the weapon.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“It’s almost over,” Decker soothed. “Raise your hands over your head, and we’ll walk out together.”

Banks cooperated.

“Perfectly done. You see, I’m not charging at you, I’m not doing anything stupid. I’m moving very slowly.”

Rudy didn’t answer.

Decker said, “You go first, but I’ll be right behind you.”

They inched their way out of the Sand Dune and stepped onto the porch. They were so close in proximity that Decker could smell Banks’s sour breath, hear his frantic pants with each intake of air. Dawn was palpable. Outside it had turned from black to gray. Visibility was a plus.

Seconds from victory. Just a few more steps.

They hadn’t gotten more than two paces forward when the single shot rang out. Immediately Decker dropped, covering his head and neck, trembling like a windblown aspen, not sure if the pain he felt was from the fire of a bullet or from his helmet knocking hard against the cold ground.

A surge of cops converged on him. He heard his own voice. It kept repeating, “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.” He shook off the bodies around him. “I’m fucking okay! Leave me alone!” Trembling from fear and adrenaline, he rubbed his arms and waited for his eyes to focus. He was still viewing his life with rods instead of cones. A slew of paramedics were kneeling on the lawn, working frantically at the spot where he had stood a few moments ago.

“What the fuck happened?” he heard his voice ask.

“Someone shot the bastard,” a disembodied voice told him.

“How the fuck did that happen?” Decker spun around and was staring at Cressly. “I was inches from the bastard. Whoever the fuck shot at him could have gotten me!”

“It wasn’t one of us—”

“Then who the fuck was…” It was then that Decker noticed a commotion off to the side. The cops wrestling someone to the ground. He ran to the spot.