Zoe executed it without pausing,trusting the numbers to keep her safe. A vault onto the bin, grasp, swing, gaspat the weight of her body and how much harder it was to lift herself after twomonths of poor self-care, hook anyway, push up, check the distance to theground just in case of unpleasant surprises—and she was down, looking up to seeFlynn already apprehending Pitsis about halfway down the alley.
“You’re under arrest on suspicionof murder,” Flynn shouted, throwing his arms out wide so that Pitsis couldn’tget by. Pitsis, wiry as he was, thin and tall and graying but unbowed, didn’teven pause or try to dodge to either side. He carried on moving headlong towardFlynn, and then barreled back a fist to punch him full in the face.
Fearing the worst, Zoe had alreadykicked off, launching herself in their direction as quickly as she could. ButFlynn, although he had staggered back a pace at the hit, wasn’t going down. Hecontinued to block Pitsis, boxing him to one side as he tried to dodge, andthen drew back his own arm to deliver a swift punch in return.
And Pitsis fell to the ground,stunned, his nose pouring blood.
Zoe slacked off her pace, almoston top of them now, faltering to a stop. It was over. They had him. But just asshe embraced this relief, Pitsis jerked to the side, making a move as if toroll to his feet and stand, trying to run past Flynn into the opening left byhis lowered arms.
It happened so fast. Zoe blinkedonce, and then Flynn’s gun was no longer in his holster but in his hands, andhe was pointing it right at Pitsis with a breathless yet somehow steady arm.
“Don’t even try it, asshole,”Flynn spat. Pitsis looked up; behind them, Zoe could not see his facialexpression, read whether he was complying. Flynn brought up his second hand togrip the gun, steadying it further, keeping it aimed right at Pitsis’s head.There was a cold fury in his eyes. The safety was off. Zoe felt her breathcatch in her throat.
He was going to shoot.
“Flynn,” Zoe began, not reallysure how she was going to follow that up. She just wanted to try to get hisattention. To distract him enough that he wasn’t going to pull the trigger. Itwasn’t worth it. She knew from experience that shooting a suspect was never agood idea, unless you absolutely had to in order to save a life. Not only didit lead to disciplinary trouble, but it also left you without the answers thatyou needed—that victim families would demand.
And there was the other thing, thekind of ragged fear that gripped at her at the thought of seeing another humandie right in front of her. She had seen it happen enough times already. Toomany times. Even when it had seemed like it was justified, it was never pretty.Never a good solution. There would be the dreams after, the visions of thoselast gasps for air, the thought of what you could have done better… And therewas Shelley’s face, rising up in her mind, freezing her to the spot, those coldwhite eyes filmed over in death…
“Go on, do it,” Pitsis sneered. Hehad not fallen back or relaxed; he was still wound tight as a spring, tensionin every line of his body. Zoe could see how he might push off on one hand andjump to his feet and try to make a run for it. He looked ready. “Go ahead. It’snot like I have anything more to lose. Shoot me.”
For a long, awful moment, Zoethought that Flynn would. Her words caught in her throat and stuck there.Nothing that she could say to make him stop—no words that came into her mindthat would make him see. There was only a terrifyingly blank space and aninfinitesimally small moment of wishing she was more like Shelley, able to makesomeone listen to reason with words alone, even as the thought of Shelley madeher sick to her stomach.
And then Flynn’s arms relaxed,elbows going down and wrists upward, separating, the gun going back toward itsholster. He tucked it away and pulled out a pair of handcuffs in the same gesture,stepping toward Pitsis.
“Like I was saying,” Flynn said,leaving Zoe’s heart to pound in relief as delayed adrenaline flooded throughher, making her feel slightly sick, “you’re under arrest for murder. You havethe right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court…”
Zoe leaned against the wall of thebar, catching her breath as she clutched at her throat, relieved on two counts:that Flynn had kept control, and that they had a killer trapped between them, cuffsbeing slapped on his wrists as she watched with the blood pounding in her earsas it returned to her head.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Zoe leaned on the table, the coolmetal taking her weight through her knuckles. She was doing her best to strikesome kind of balance between being the right mixture of intimidating—so hewould want to talk—and friendly, so that he would want to open up. Somewhatpredictably, it didn’t seem to be working at all.
“There are a number of outstandingwarrants against your name,” Zoe said, giving Ezra Pitsis a raised eyebrow. “Thequicker you talk to us, the better word we are going to put in for you with thejudge.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Pitsissneered. “I’ve seen cop shows. Heard the podcasts about how you people get intopeople’s heads and make them confess to things they never even did. I’m notsaying another word without my lawyer present.”
Zoe stared at him
