marry her, for Christ’s sake.”
Stark half smiled, “Jesus-what a thought. No, I like things the way they are. I kill him, you kill me-maybe. That’s neat and tidy; and if you’re not fast enough, I live to play a different kind of game for a while.”
“I will shoot.”
“As soon as you published my identity, I was dead anyway-I have ‘friends’ in high places.”
“I could shoot you now, save Teicher, and ruin it for you.”
He smiled. “I don’t think so.”
So that was that. No gray areas. Just yes or no. The years I’d spent struggling for alternate choices were useless to me now. I was back to where I’d started as a rookie cop, back to when my thinking shared the same narrow ledge as Stark’s. My gun felt huge and awkward-a bloody steel monument to stupidity. I barely felt its recoil when I fired.
The arrow flew as my bullet hit him high in the chest and I heard Teicher scream from the chair. Stark slammed against the doorframe and momentarily stood there, motionless, his eyes locked onto mine; then they closed, his body relaxed, and he slid to the floor.
Keeping my gun on him, I knelt by his side and felt for a pulse. There was none. I could hear noises outside: slamming car doors, the sound of broken glass. I walked over to Teicher, who was now whimpering. The arrow had gone through his right thigh and had pinned him to the chair.
“My God. It hurts, it hurts. Jesus, it hurts.”
I laid my hand on his shoulder. My brain was almost totally numb. “Be grateful. It’s a sign you’re alive.”
He stopped for a second and looked at me.
“Sorry. I’ll get some help for you.”
I left him to let the others in, but I paused at the hallway door and looked at Stark again, curled up like a sleeping child on the floor. Fate or divine guidance or whatever had put my bullet in his heart. He had the contented look of a man who’d lived a clean and simple life and who’d left with his affairs fully in order, with no doubts and no regrets.
I envied him all of that.
