onto Corbin, slicing with the knife at his throat, the skin parting the way skin does. So easily. Corbin fell to the floor. In the dim light the blood that came from his neck was an inky black.
Henry stood, stumbling backward. His hand thrummed, and he looked at it. Blood was oozing its way down into his sleeve, and his thumb hung loose, the tendon severed. He quickly looked around the room for something to stanch the bleeding, then remembered the ski mask in his pocket. He set the knife down, pulled the hat out with his good hand, and crouched down to dress his hand. He gingerly slid his dangling thumb through an opening in the slick material, then wrapped his hand, tucking the excess material so that it held. It would have to do for now. Corbin was still making sounds, soft, bubbling gurgles, and Henry turned his attention to him.
They were no longer alone. Kate had entered the living room and was now crouched over Corbin’s crumpled body. She hadn’t noticed Henry. He took the knife from the floor and stood. He watched for a moment, the world slowing down into this one frozen tableau. Corbin dying, and an angel in white already at his side.
Then Corbin’s gaze shifted, and for a brief moment, his eyes made contact with Henry’s, the two of them looking directly at one another after so many years. Corbin was gesturing with his blood-slicked hand, moving a finger, and trying to say something to Kate. It caused her to turn, and that was when Henry leapt, landing on her back. He heard the air leave her lungs, her head thunk as it hit the floor. He pushed the knife into her back, encountering a shoulder blade, pulled it out again, and stuck the entire blade into the softness high up next to her spine. Henry rolled off her and into a sitting position. Corbin’s hand still clutched at his throat. Henry moved closer, looked at his eyes, open but unfocused now, blood bubbling from his mouth.
There was a loud knock at the door, followed by a woman’s voice: “POLICE. OPEN UP.”
Henry, in the seconds he had, began to calculate. Should he run for the basement? Then he watched, in amazement, as Kate, knife still protruding, stood up and wobbled toward the front door, opening it up as though a cocktail party guest had arrived. Henry pulled his small pocketknife from his jacket pocket, flicked out the blade, then took Corbin by the shoulders and yanked him toward him to act as a shield. The policewoman entered, gun drawn. Henry watched her eyes scan the scene, from Kate to Corbin and then to Henry, who was now dragging Corbin’s body back onto his, holding the pocketknife to Corbin’s damaged neck, the smell of blood thick in the air.
She took a step into the room, gun pointed at Henry. “Let him go, and let me see your hands.” She took her left hand off her gun and fumbled for the radio at her belt.
Henry paused, holding on to the knife. He was grateful, in a way, that it had come to this.
Chapter 36
Detective Roberta James took careful aim, exhaled, and fired her Glock at a living target for the first time in her life. The .40-caliber bullet hit the smiling man in the upper lip, and his smiled collapsed inward as he fell backward and hit the floor. The knife that he’d been pushing into the neck of the bleeding man clattered to the floor.
While radioing in for immediate backup, she dropped to a knee and took a look at the man with the neck wound. The blood was coming fast, although it wasn’t spurting. She turned to Kate and calmly asked for clean towels.
“Is he dead?” Kate asked. Her voice sounded too casual, as though she wasn’t comprehending what was happening.
“I don’t know. I need to get some towels and stop this bleeding.” She stood, and that was when she noticed the handle of the knife that was jutting at a ninety-degree angle from the top of Kate’s back, just behind a shoulder. “I’ll get them, Kate. You just stay there. Where are they?”
“There’s a bathroom right down there,” Kate said. She swiveled, made a funny expression, and asked: “Is there something on my back?” She reached back with a hand and Detective James stopped her, gripping her forearms and bringing them down to her side. Kate’s eyes were bright. The detective knew