Page 70 of His Wall

I never miss. That was just a preview.

I read it.

I looked down at him.

He was on his back on the concrete with his arm twisted under him and his face white and his hazel eyes wide on mine. His breathing came out of him fast and shallow against my palm where my hand was still flat on his chest.

"Stay down. Don't move."

"What — what was — "

"Julian. Stay down."

I pulled my own phone out of my coat pocket with my left hand. Eyes still on the ramp. I unlocked it with my thumbprint by feel. I dialed.

Harlow picked up on the second ring.

"Leah."

"Active shooter. West Eleventh, residential garage under the building. Suppressed weapon. One shot fired, no casualty. Shooter likely on the upper ramp or in the stairwell to the lobby. I have the principal, he is unhurt. I need a unit and I need it now. I need building security locked down and I need the lobby cleared."

"On it."

"Five minutes, Harlow."

"Three."

She hung up.

I slid the phone back into my pocket. My right hand was still on his chest. My left hand came down to brace against the concrete beside his shoulder. My head was up. My eyes were on the ramp.

Julian was looking at me.

I could feel him looking.

I did not look back.

The garage was quiet. A car alarm went off in the far corner — a pre-set, somebody's morning, not the shot. The fluorescents hummed. Somewhere above us, on the street, a horn went off and stopped. The dust from the pillar had settled. The concrete chip was at the base of it, a small gray wedge no bigger than my thumbnail.

His breathing was ragged against my palm.

I could feel his heartbeat. Fast. Going faster.

I stayed where I was. I was thinking about the text.

I never miss.

The Bureau's frame was that Julian Cross was helping Conrad Weiss's operation from the inside.

You did not shoot your inside man.

You protected your inside man. You paid him. You kept him close. You let him kiss women in hallways and walk you out of galas and lie to your face about old business acquaintances.

You shot your problems.

You shot the people who had found something they were not supposed to find.

Conrad was not running Julian.