“To who? Nobody gives a shit. She might nail you, but I got no dog in that fight. Trouble with you is you think you’re more important than you are.”

“Who’s the reporter? I want his name.”

“Too bad.”

Linton reached into his overcoat pocket and pulled out a gun, racking back the slide. Pete lifted his hands in a show of submission, but in truth he was more curious than cowed. What was this about? Linton didn’t seem to know what came next. This was apparently his big move and now what? Pull a gun on a fellow, you better be prepared to shoot.

Pete dropped his gaze to the weapon. He couldn’t see it clearly in the faulty light, but he was guessing it was a .45. Pete could feel the comforting bulk of his Glock in the shoulder holster under his left arm. He knew how to draw and fire a lot faster than Linton did. “Where’d you get that?” he asked.

“My father-in-law.”

“Hope he shared some safety tips.”

“He’s out of town. I borrowed it.”

“Trigger pressure’s tricky if you’re not used to it.”

“Like this?”

Linton altered the angle of the barrel and fired once. Both men jerked instinctively at the blast. The cartridge popped up to his right like a jumping bean.

Pete could tell the good doctor was showing off, making a point about how serious he was. While Pete wasn’t worried, his attention was fully focused on the man in front of him. There was something odd at work: Linton role-playing, trying on an alternate personality; tough guy, an overeducated Al Capone. Linton Reed was on unfamiliar ground but getting hyped on the power. The question was how far he’d be willing to push. Pete suspected this was the first time he’d brandished a gun and he liked the feeling it gave him. You’d think a man in his position would be fully accustomed to deference, but this was dominance of another sort.

Linton said, “What’s the reporter’s name?”

“What difference does it make?” Pete asked, irritably.

“I’m asking you a simple question.”

“Why don’t you go ask her? She’s the one in cahoots with him.”

Linton backed up a step and raised his arm. The weight of the weapon caused his hand to wobble ever so slightly. “I’m warning you.”

“Hey, fine. You win. Guy’s name is Owen Pensky for all the good it’ll do you.”