Page 124 of Rest In Pink

My finger had tightened on the trigger as Mickey spun about and my time sense slowed down. I should fire, but he was so close and Liz was right behind and I had high velocity rounds in the rifle and—

Mickey shot me in the chest. The plate took the brunt of the force, but it felt like getting hit with a baseball bat. I staggered back a step and before I could do anything I heard three shots in rapid sequence and saw the shock spread across Mickey’s face as the bullets hit him in the back.

He took two steps toward me, dropped to his knees and then crumpled to his side. I looked past him at Liz holding a tiny pink—of course, it was pink—Beretta in her hand. I stepped forward and kicked the gun from Mickey’s hand.

He was blinking hard, trying to understand what had happened to him. He looked back at Liz and murmured, “A fucking Blue.” Then his eyes closed and he grimaced in well-deserved pain.

I knelt and checked his front. The pink gun was small caliber and there were no exit wounds. I turned him face-down, cuffing him so he wouldn’t cause any more trouble.

I stood and hit Favorites #2 calling dispatch, telling them we needed an ambulance at the factory. I looked at Liz and cleared my throat. “Could I have the gun please?”

She looked down at her hands, almost as if she was surprised there was a gun there. Then she held it out to me, barrel down.

“I think he blew up the Blue House,” she said as I took it.

“One thing at a time,” I said as I cleared the gun. I made another call.

When George answered, I said, “The Blue House.”

“It’s not really blue anymore,” he said and I knew everything was all right because George didn’t make a lot of jokes.

“It burned?”

“According to Anemone, only some of the outside. I just talked to her. Anemone got everyone out after your call and then called me. That smart bastard Cleve had sprinkler systems inside. There’s a lot of blistered paint outside but the inside is just very wet. Where are you?”

“The factory,” I said. “Mickey’s wounded. I shot him.”

“The hell you did.” Liz grabbed the phone from my hand. “I shot him, George, three times. I did it. Vince is not taking the fall for me. I’m the guilty one.”

I held out my hand. “Phone please.”

She handed it back.

“Vince?” George said.

“Here.”

“Did she really shoot him?”

“Yes, she did. What about Molly’s house?”

“That’s gone,” George said. “Molly’s fine, Rain had stopped by to see her and saw the det cord and got her out. I was telling Molly how sorry I was about the house, but she said she hated the damn place and was glad it was gone. MaryBeth’s place is down to the ground, too. She and Day weren’t in it.”

George sounded almost chipper, so I said, “Get somebody over here so I can take Liz back to Anemone and Peri. Wait. Did the dog make it out?”

“Of course,” George said.

“Good. Get Mac from the fire department. Do not send Bartlett.”

“On it,” he said, and I put the phone away and turned back to Liz.

“Everybody’s okay,” I told her. I could hear a siren approaching.

“I may not be,” she said, and I went to her and put my arms around her and thought about how close I’d come to losing her.

“I’ve got your buttons,” I said. “You can sew them back on, right?”

“Me?” Liz laughed a little. “No, but I’ll find somebody who can.”