“And there you were,” I said.
How much longer would it take Calvin to reach the west-end bathrooms?
Could I keep Pete’s finger off the trigger forone more minute?
“Why’d you kill Casey?”
Pete lowered the revolver a bit. “Look. No one was supposed to die.”
“But they did! Pete, he was a kid!”
“After the second time he broke into the Emporium to get the film reel back, Casey wanted out. He was going to tell his grandpa and—those documents are worth millions to the right buyer, Snow.Millions!”
“And James? He was ninety. Did you have to kill him too?”
“I couldn’t figure out the documents’ location. I thought he had a fourth reel kept stashed in that museum he lived in.”
My heart was pounding hard and fast.
Adrenaline sped through my veins.
If he would lower the revolver a bit more, it could allow me just enough time to hurl myself through the door….
“You stole Greg’s gun,” I stated.
Pete glanced at the Colt Walker, then nodded. “Yup. Sure scared the shit out of you yesterday, didn’t it? I wasn’t trying to kill you, if it makes you feel better. But you needed to understand how serious I was about the Kinetoscope—that we weren’t going to stop until you gave up the film.”
“O-okay, but whythatgun? Because ballistics would have a harder time with a lead ball and black powder?”
He smiled wryly and scratched his beard again. “No…. I stole it because it’s a million-dollar weapon. And you call yourself a dealer.”
“You can’t sell it,” I protested. “He knows you stole it. It’s being reported to the FBI.”
“I can’t sell it throughlegalchannels,” Pete corrected. “For the record, I stole that knife too.”
“You left it at the crime scene! With your fingerprints in James’s blood! The cops are going to prove you killed Casey with it too.”
“Andyouknow all that because you’re fucking the redhead. Who’s a cop, I’ve learned.” Pete raised the revolver to be even with my head.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.
“Give me the documents. Then I won’t have to shoot you. I’ll take off for an exotic foreign country, and we’ll never have to see each other again. Sound good?”
“You have a buyer in that country?” I asked.
“There’s always a buyer,” Pete agreed.
“I don’t have the documents,” I said, voice catching.
Pete shook his head. “Don’t yank my chain.”
“I don’t!” I protested, looking down at myself briefly. “Th-they’re at the Emporium.” I swallowed, and it hurt. “Someone is going to hear the gun go off.”
He gave me thatoh wellsort of expression again. “Bet you wished you’d given me a shot now, huh? Maybe then I wouldn’t have to give you one.”
There was a burst of smoke from the revolver as the powder was ignited, a delay—then the last stall door I’d managed to walk past seemed to explode.
“Goddamn it!” Pete swore.
