“That was my doing, asshole.” Underwood’s voice.
Vail did not know what was happening—she was forced to stare at the snow-covered ground—but she had a pretty good idea: Underwood had taken the Glock Marcks had thrown aside and was holding it against the man’s ear. Or temple. Or back.
“You got a beef?” Underwood said. “It’s with me. I’m the one who drew up that profile. Anyone’s responsible, it’s me. Now drop the knife or I’ll pull this trigger and feel damn good about it.”
“Jonathan,” Vail said, “go wait in the car.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Make him drop that knife!”
“First I want an apology,” Marcks said.
“An apology?” Underwood grunted. “You know, you’re right. I’m really sorry you killed your wife and a bunch of other innocent people. Because you’re gonna get the death penalty. Now drop the fucking knife or I’ll drive a 9-millimeter round through your goddamn skull and save the taxpayers a few million dollars. You have till three. Three.”
Marcks loosened his grip on both Vail and the tanto, which fell to the ground. Vail knocked his hands away and grabbed his wrists, pulled out her handcuffs and ratcheted them down hard.
The headlights of two approaching SUVs bounced a few dozen yards away. The vehicles drove over the curb and into the park, stopping just in front of them.
Hurdle got out of the lead vehicle, followed by Curtis and Walters, Morrison and Tarkoff.
“Damn,” Hurdle said, surveying the scene. “Looks like we missed all the fun.”
“Well, well, well,” Curtis said, taking hold of Marcks’s cuffed forearm. “Look who caught the fugitive, Hurdle. The FBI.”
Hurdle holstered his sidearm. “Give me a break.”
“No, no, no,” Vail said. “It was a team effort. In fact, why don’t you guys both do the honors.”
Curtis and Hurdle led Marcks away toward the SUV as another car pulled up.
Robby jumped out, leaving his door open. He said something to Curtis before seeing Vail and Jonathan—then ran over to them.
“Got here as soon as I could.” As he gathered them in an embrace, he squinted into the darkness.
“Is that Jasmine?”
“Yeah.”
Robby stepped back and looked at Vail. “How?”
Vail told Robby what happened, letting Jonathan fill in the details.
Robby held out his fist and Jonathan bumped it.
“When I saw Jasmine go at him,” Vail said, “my heart stopped.”
“C’mon, Mom. I had it under control.”
Vail lifted her brow.
Jonathan shrugged. “She lunged at me. I saw the blade at the last second and parried it, then counterattacked with a riposte.”
Vail looked at Robby. “What did he just say?”
“I think he’s talking fencing.”
“Yeah,” Jonathan said. “Fencing. When you parry, or block, an attack you’ve got a split second to launch a counterstrike—a riposte. Instead of pulling back, you attack quickly, before your opponent can recover and defend.”
“But you didn’t have a sword,” Robby said.
“Concept is tactical, whether you have a weapon or not. It’s reactions, balance, muscle memory. I reacted without thinking.”
I do that all the time without such good results. Maybe I should take up fencing.
“Strategic analysis aside,” Robby said, “I’m real proud of you.” He grabbed Jonathan’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “You okay?”
Jonathan thought a moment. “I’m not sure. I—no, I don’t know what I think. I mean, I killed someone.” He stared off for a second, as if it had just sunk in.
“Sweetie, you killed someone who’d murdered about two dozen people. You didn’t have a choice. She was coming at you. And believe me, she was trying to kill you. This is a lot to grasp. I know, I’ve been there. We’ll have you talk to someone. It’ll help.”
“Like a shrink?”
Vail drew a hand down his left cheek. “Exactly like a shrink. And I don’t want any pushback. I’m still your mother, even if you’re technically an adult.”
He shivered. “Fine. I’ll talk with someone.”
“Tomorrow. You’ll talk with someone tomorrow.”
“C’mon, it’s friggin’ cold out here.” Robby clamped a hand around Jonathan’s shoulders and led him toward the car. “I mean it, bud. I’m very proud of you.”
Jonathan was silent for a few steps and then stopped. “I—I think I feel good about what I did. Is that wrong?”
“Wrong?” Vail asked. Well there’s a loaded question. From my son, no less. “No. You defended yourself. You did what needed to be done.”
Jonathan absorbed that for a second. “Is this what it’s like to be a cop?”
“Sometimes,” Robby said with a shrug. “Yeah. Getting the bad guy. You feel good you made things safer for people. That’s what it’s all about. Keeping order, upholding the law, saving lives.”
Jonathan gazed off into the distance as he considered that. “Maybe I should think more seriously about a career in law enforcement.”
Vail and Robby shared a concerned look.