Button turned into the lot and pulled up by Straw with the passenger door on the far side of the car.

Straw started around to the passenger side, but Button stopped him.

“Hang on a sec. I gotta give you a vest before we split. It’s in the trunk.”

Straw hesitated as Button climbed out.

“I don’t need a vest.”

“LAPD rules, man. I know it’s stupid.”

Button held up his hands to measure Straw’s shoulders, and grinned as if he was making a joke.

“It’s one size fits all, but it oughta do. I hope it doesn’t have too many bullet holes in it.”

The business with measuring Straw’s shoulders let Button get close. He grabbed Straw’s wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and shoved him against the car.

“Stay there. Stay on the car.”

Button cuffed his right wrist, then hooked up the left. When the fake Straw was secure, Button stepped back and checked him for a weapon.

“Stay on the car, fucker. You’re under arrest. Do not turn around.”

“What is this, Button? What are you doing?”

“Jack Straw, my ass. I know you’re not Jack fuckin’ Straw. I just spoke to the sonofabitch.”

Detective Jerry Button glimpsed movement between two nearby cars, but did not see the man in time even when a blowing horn drew his attention. It sounded like a long, anguished wail.

Something hard punched him twice, so hard he staggered, which was when Kenny shot him again. Button fell to a knee, fumbling for the Snubbie as a tan Crown Victoria banged through oncoming traffic, spraying firefly sparks as it jumped the curb into the parking lot. Button saw Futardo, those black chocolate eyes all big in her head, coming to save him.

Button said, “No, honey—”

Kenny shot her through the windshield, then quickly walked to her window and shot her again.

Button had the Snubbie by then, but the fake Jack Straw was shouting.

“Button! Get Button!”

Button got off one round, then Kenny shot him again, hit him so hard it felt like being speared with a javelin, and the Snubbie fell free.

Straw said, “Get his key. Get me out of these things.”

Kenny snatched up his gun and rolled Button onto his back as he searched for the keys.

The sun was so goddamned bright and right in his eyes, but they were over him, Kenny uncuffing Straw.

Button said, “Pieces of shit.”

Straw glanced down, letting Button see the fear in his eyes.

“They know, man. We’re done.”

“Don’t panic. We’re close.”

“We gotta go. We’re fucked.”

“No, we’re not—”

Kenny pointed the gun straight down, blocking the sun, and Button stared into the tight black sphincter of its barrel.

“Fuck you.”

Then a gun went off, and Button thought he was dead, but Kenny staggered sideways and fell. His falling gun hit Button on the nose.