She nodded to Ochoa, who yanked the shroud off the frame on the wall beside him, revealing a blow-up of another security still. “Time code says it was taken one-point-six seconds after the picture in your hands. That is one jumbo canvas, Mr. Paxton. Too unwieldy and too valuable for one man to risk carrying it by himself. And look who that is coming around the corner helping you by holding the back end.”
Paxton forgot all about the photo in his hands and let it flutter to the floor. He stared in disbelief at the framed surveillance picture on the wall of him carrying the painting, assisted by Vitya Pochenko.
He dropped his head and his body sagged. He fumbled to brace himself on the back of a sofa.
“Noah Paxton, you’re under arrest for the murders of Matthew Starr and Barbara Deerfield.” Nikki turned away from him to Raley and Ochoa. “Cuff hi—”
“Gun,” shouted Roach in tandem. Raley and Ochoa went for their hips. Nikki already had her hand on her Sig in its holster. But when she whirled back to Paxton, he was holding his gun on her.
“He got it from the couch cushion,” said Raley.
“Drop it, Paxton,” said Heat. She didn’t draw but took a step closer, trying to position herself for a disarm. He took two steps back, well out of reach.
“Don’t,” he said. “I’ll do it, I will.” His hand was quaking and Nikki worried he’d fire by accident, so she stayed put. Plus Raley and Ochoa were behind her. If she went for him, she would take the risk that a wild shot might hit one of them.
Her plan was to buy time by keeping Paxton talking. “This isn’t going to work, Noah. It never does.”
“It’s only gonna be ugly,” said Ochoa.
“Don’t be stupid,” added Raley.
“Quiet.” Paxton took another backward step toward the front door.
“I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to think of a way out, but there isn’t one.” Behind her, Nikki could hear the soft rug steps of her two detectives slowly spreading out to flank Paxton. She engaged him to give them time. “You should know there’s a cruiser out front and cops in the lobby. It’s the same detail that’s been tailing you since this morning when Buckley tagged you.”
“You two. Stop. I swear if you move, I’ll start shooting.”
“Do what he says.” Heat turned around to face them and said, “You guys hear me? I mean it.” Nikki used her rotation to block Paxton from seeing her unholster her Sig. She let her hand drop to her side and held the gun tight against the back of her thigh when she faced Paxton again.
Meanwhile, he had retreated another step. His free hand rested on the doorknob. “Everybody back up.”
They held their positions. Nikki continued trying to talk him down, even as she gripped her weapon behind her. “You’re the expert with numbers, right? What do you think your odds are of making the street?”
“Shut up, I’m thinking.”
“No, you’re not thinking.”
His hand started to shake even more. “What’s it matter? I’m screwed.”
“But you’re not dead. Would you rather leave this to your lawyer or your undertaker?”
He pondered a brief moment, moving his lips in some silent inner dialogue. And just when Nikki thought he might have come to his senses, he threw the front door open. She brought her piece up, but Paxton had already lunged behind the door and run out into the hallway.
Everything that happened next happened fast. The door slammed hard as Nikki scrambled for it. Behind her she heard guns clearing holsters, footfalls, and Raley on his walkie-talkie. “Suspect is ten-thirty-two. Suspect is armed, repeat armed, with handgun on sixth floor. Detectives in pursuit.”
Heat slammed her back flat to the wall, shoulder even with the door frame, and her Sig Sauer up in an isosceles stance. “Cover,” she said. Ochoa performed like clockwork. He went low, crouching on one knee, fisting his Smith & Wesson in his right hand and grabbing the knob with his left. “On yours,” he said.
Without pause, Detective Heat calmly said, “Go.”
Ochoa pulled the door and held it open for her. Nikki pivoted around the jamb, squaring her aim up the hall. She stopped, still holding her combat stance, shook her head, and mumbled, “Mother…”
Ochoa and Raley rolled out behind her and stopped, too. Raley spoke quietly into his radio, “All units, we have a hostage.”
Rook was standing halfway up the hall with Paxton snugged behind him holding the gun to his head. He looked at Nikki sheepishly and said, “So, I’m gonna guess it’s Noah.”
TWENTY
“Stop squirming,” said Noah Paxton. Rook started to turn his head to say something to his assailant, but Paxton jammed the muzzle of the gun hard into his skull.
“Ow. Hey.”
“I said hold still, damn it.”
“Do as he says, Rook.” Nikki still had her Sig Sauer up, keeping a bead on the small sliver of Noah Paxton that was showing behind his human shield. She didn’t need to turn to know that Raley and Ochoa were doing the same thing with their weapons behind her.
Rook raised his eyebrows contritely and looked at her like a kid who’d broken a living room lamp with a baseball. “I am really sorry about this.”
“Rook, be quiet,” said Nikki.
“From now on, I’ll do what I’m told.”
“Start now by shutting up.”
“OK.” Then he realized he was not shutting up. “Oops, sorry.”
“I want you to drop your guns,” said Paxton. “All of you.”
Heat didn’t say no because a direct verbal confrontation could heighten tensions. Instead she maintained her isosceles stance and let that be her answer. She spoke in a calm tone. “You’re smart enough to know you’re not getting out, Noah, so why don’t you let him go and end this peacefully.”
“You know, she makes sense,” said Rook. Heat and Paxton told him to shut up at the same time.
Paxton’s left hand held a handful of the back of Rook’s shirt in a bunch to keep him close. He gave it a tug. “Back up.” When he didn’t move, Noah gave a sharp pull. “I said move. That’s right, go with me, easy, easy.” He led Rook backward, taking baby steps to the elevator. When he saw that the three detectives were moving forward, matching his pace, he stopped. “Hey, stay back.”
Heat and Roach stopped but didn’t retreat.
“I’m not afraid to use this,” Paxton warned.
“Nobody said you were.” She was calm but sounded in command. “But you don’t want to.”
Paxton moved the gun away slightly to adjust his grip, and Rook slid forward, only to get jerked back. “Don’t be stupid.” Noah again pushed the muzzle hard against the soft bone behind Rook’s ear. “All it takes is one. Do you have any idea what this will do to you?”
Rook nodded as much as he dared. “Scrambled eggs.”
“What?”
“Like a hammer hitting a plate of—Never mind, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Paxton tugged his shirt again and they continued to back toward the elevator. And again the detectives advanced with them. As they all drew closer to the elevator, Nikki looked at the panel above the door. It indicated that the car was waiting there on six.
Heat spoke in a barely audible voice. “Rales.”
“Yo.”
“Lose that car.”
Behind her, Raley keyed his mic and spoke quietly. “Lobby, call elevator down from six immediately.”
Paxton heard the elevator softly kick into motion right behind him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He turned quickly over his shoulder, in time to see the 6 digit go dark and the 5 light up. He didn’t move enough for Nikki to get a clear shot, but while he was distracted, she took two steps closer.
He turned back and saw her. “Stop right there.”
Heat stopped. She had closed the gap and he was ten feet away. Not close enough yet, but closer. She couldn’t see Paxton’s face, just his eye, looking wild peeking out from the gap between the gun barrel and Rook’s head. His voice was building to a rage. “Now you boxed me in.”