Someone calling out, saying come in and that the door was open?
Margolis spoke through the crack, then pulled out his badge as he pushed through the already open door, vanishing from sight…
“Let’s go to my car,” Evan said. “We can be gone by the time Margolis gets out. I know he hates you, but I don’t want him to hate you any more than he already does. Or me, for that matter. He looks mean.”
Colin said nothing. Instead, he was thinking about the expression he’d seen on Margolis’s face right before he’d knocked at the door. Margolis had seen something, something that… didn’t make sense? Surprised him? Something he hadn’t expected?
And why would Lester have invited him in if he was paranoid and afraid of the police?
“Something’s wrong,” Colin said, the thought coming automatically, even before he realized he’d said it.
Evan looked over at him. “What are you talking about?” he asked, and in that instant, Colin heard the distinctive pop of gunfire, loud and explosive, two shots in quick succession.
Colin was already reaching for the door when Margolis flew back out of the doorway, his jacket and shirt soaked in blood, his hand on his neck. He stumbled off the porch, falling backward onto the steps and sliding down onto the walkway.
By then, Colin was already out of the car… operating on instinct… running toward Margolis… accelerating with every step… watching Margolis as he writhed on the ground.
Lester stepped onto the porch, screaming incoherently, holding a gun. He raised it, pointing it at Margolis. Lester’s face held both fear and anger, his hand on the gun shaking. Lester screamed again and lowered the gun before raising it once more…
Colin continued his sprint toward the bungalow, cutting across the neighbor’s lawn, hurdling a small bush, closing in on the porch. On Lester. Zeroing in. A few more seconds.
Lester continued to aim the gun at Margolis without pulling the trigger. His face was red, his eyes bloodshot. Out of control. Screaming at Margolis: It’s not my fault! and I didn’t do anything! and I’m not going back to jail! and I know what Maria is doing!
Lester approached the porch steps, closing the gap between him and Margolis as he continued to aim the gun, his hand shaking. Taunting. Lester, aware of a blur out of the corner of his eye, suddenly turned, swiveling the gun in Colin’s direction…
Too late.
Colin launched himself over the porch railing, arms wide as he collided hard with Lester. The gun went flying, wheeling end over end and landing on the porch.
Colin outweighed Lester by forty pounds, and he felt Lester’s ribs crack as they hit the ground. Lester screamed in agony, momentarily paralyzed.
Colin moved fast, shifting off of Lester’s body, his arm immediately wrapping around Lester’s throat, then he locked the arm down with the opposite hand. Lester began to thrash and squirm, neck sandwiched between Colin’s biceps and forearm. Colin applied hard pressure to the carotid arteries in a classic choke hold as Lester tried frantically to escape.
Within seconds, Lester’s eyes began to roll back, going white, and all at once he stopped moving.
Colin kept applying the pressure, enough to keep Lester out for more than a few seconds. Then, scrambling to his feet, he rushed to Margolis.
Margolis was still breathing but no longer moving, his face a chalky white, and Colin tried to figure out what he was seeing. He’d been shot twice, in the stomach and the neck, and was losing blood fast.
Colin whipped off his shirt and tore it in half as Evan came running up, looking terrified.
“Holy crap! What do we do?”
“Call 911!” Colin shouted, trying to will his own sense of panic away, knowing that more than ever, he needed to think clearly. “Get an ambulance! Now!”
Colin knew nothing about gunshot wounds, but if Margolis kept losing blood, he had no chance at all. Because the neck wound looked worse, Colin started by applying pressure to Margolis’s neck. Blood began to seep through the torn shirt immediately; he did the same for the stomach wound, where blood was still pulsing, forming a growing puddle beneath the detective.
Margolis’s face began to turn a sickly gray.
He could hear Evan shouting into the phone that a cop had been shot, that they needed an ambulance, now.
“Hurry up, Evan!” Colin shouted. “I need your help!”
Evan disconnected the call, staring at Margolis as though he might pass out. From the corner of his eye, Colin saw Lester roll his head to the side. Already waking.
“Grab the cuffs!” he said. “Make sure Lester can’t get away!”
Evan, still staring at Margolis, seemed frozen in place. Colin could feel the blood continuing to soak through the remnants of his shirt; he could feel the warmth in his hand, his fingers red and slick.
“Evan!” Colin shouted. “Cuffs! On Margolis’s belt! Now!”
Evan shook his head and began fumbling with the cuffs.
“And then get back here as fast as you can!” Colin shouted. “I need your help!”
Evan hurried over to Lester and slapped one cuff on Lester’s wrist and then dragged Lester’s body closer to the rail, slapping the other cuff around a post. Lester moaned, coming to as Evan rushed back. Evan fell to his knees near Margolis, his eyes wide.
“What do I do?”
“Take over the stomach wound… where my hand is. And press hard!”
Though the blood loss was definitely slowing, Margolis’s breathing had grown shallower…
Evan did as he was told and Colin used both hands on the neck wound, and seconds later, Colin heard the first of the sirens. Then a growing chorus of them, and while he willed them to get here faster, all he could think was Don’t die on me. Whatever you do, don’t die…