Jackson pulled out a two-way and began shouting coordinates and instructions. “Ten-forty-three, shots fired. I have one woman down. Repeat, one woman down. I’m at…”
While he talked, Tony remained in a semi-stupor, his gaze fixed on the dead woman beside him. He wondered if she died thinking of Simon, if her futile, suicidal overtures spoke to her eagerness to join him in what lay beyond or her final realization that she never would. He would have kept staring had K.J. not nudged him with the chair. She’d been mumbling into her gag for several minutes now and looked downright exasperated.