Redemption (Amos Decker #5)(107)

“What model?”

“Um…”

“Think!”

“P238.”

“What’s it look like?”

“Small. She can carry it in her clutch purse.”

“P238 Micro Compact chambered in .380 auto?”

“Yes, that’s it. Exactly.”

“Standard mag with it, or did she do something special?”

“No, standard.”

Decker nodded. “Call the police and wait for them by the front door.”

“What the hell are you two doing out there?” screamed Mitzi, followed by another shot through the door.

With one backward glance at the door, Gardiner did as Decker requested, sliding down the hall on his hands and knees. Then he rose and sprinted off. Decker straightened and, keeping well away from the bedroom door, said, “Mitzi, it’s Amos Decker.”

“I said to get out of my house, you bastard.”

“We need to talk.”

“About what? You’ve ruined my life. What the hell else is there to talk about, you shit!”

“How exactly did I do that?”

Another round blew through the wood and hit the opposite wall about a foot below the other two bullets.

“You know damn well how. You just…you just had to dig all this shit up, didn’t you? From all that time ago. You couldn’t give a crap how it might affect people. How it might affect me! You asshole!” she shrieked.

Another shot came through the door. Decker flinched with the impact against the wood but held his ground.

“That was not my intent.”

“Don’t you dare bullshit me. That’s exactly what you wanted.”

She fired another round through the door, ripping a big chunk off it as the wood around the other holes gave way.

“Look, if you stop shooting, we can have a conversation.”

“I’m not talking to you. I’m going to kill myself.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because my life is over!”

“Your husband doesn’t think that. Or your son.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my son. He’s the only good thing I’ve ever done in my miserable excuse for a life.”

“I think we have to talk about him if you’re planning on leaving him motherless.”

Now she started to sob. He could hear the gut-wrenching noises coming through the door.

He took a chance and peeped through one of the holes. She was lying in bed, wearing only a long T-shirt; her uncovered legs were long and pale. The gun was in her right hand.

“Mitzi, I can help you if you let me.”

“N-nobody can help me. Not now.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“I told you to get out.”

He ducked down as the shot came through not the door, but the wall. It must have hit a nail in the stud under the drywall, because it careened into the hall at a weird angle, nearly hitting Decker in the face.

He stayed low, breathing heavily and wondering where the hell the cops were.

“I can’t leave you like this. I’m afraid you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Fuckin’ A, Sherlock. I’m going to do more than hurt myself, you idiot!”

“Rachel Katz wouldn’t want that, Mitzi. She was the one who helped you to turn your life around. And now she’s fighting for her life.”

Silence.

A few moments passed.

“What do you know about anything?”

“I know a lot, Mitzi. I’d like to know more.”

“You came here and…and accused me of framing my own father.”

“So tell me that you didn’t. Tell me that you’re innocent.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

“Try me.”

In a more subdued tone she said, “Look, it’s…it’s complicated.”

“Believe me, I know that. But why do I think that Rachel Katz was blindsided by what happened? And you didn’t really know what was going to happen either, Mitzi, did you? I think you were both used. I think you both thought you had no way out.”

“I…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“At this point, you’re going to have to.”

“Screw you, Decker!”

He flattened himself to the hallway floor right as the bullet blasted through the door. The next instant he was up and had smashed into the door, breaking it open.

An astonished Mitzi gaped at him as he charged toward the bed. She aimed her pistol at him and fired.

Click. Click.

Decker wrenched the gun out of her hand and pocketed it. He looked down at her. “P238 Micro Compact has a seven-round standard mag.” He looked at the bullet-pocked door and wall. “And you just fired your last bullet.”

He turned back to her, as she covered herself with a sheet. “Get out!” she screamed.

“I can’t do that. The police are on their way.”

She looked confused. “Why?”

“Well, for starters you tried to kill me and your husband.”

“No I didn’t. I was just trying to make you leave me alone.”

“Not sure the court will see it that way. You fire a gun at someone, deadly intent is pretty much implied.”