"We didn't do anything. It's the car. Not good in the snow."

Poulson raised all five-foot-eleven of himself up to full height, glanced across at Holm. She knew he was feeling the tingle, same as her, the one they got when things were about to turn shaky on them. Poulson said, "Okay, step out of the vehicle. We need to talk some more."

"Please, sir, it's not far."

Holm caught movement. Why hadn't Poulson told the kid to keep his hands in sight? His right was down in his seat. He started to lift it, but the passenger grabbed his arm and seethed through his teeth, "Jibriil, god, no!"

Holm went for her pistol, started shouting, "Don't move! Don't move!" Fumbly with her gloves on. Goddamn it. She stepped backwards. "Don't move! Hands where I can see them! Now!"

Poulson still didn't quite get it. He'd stepped back and pulled his S amp;W, but hadn't picked up on why Holm freaked.

She said, "The driver's got a gun! The driver's got a gun!"

The driver yanked his arm free and Poulson's eyes went wide.

She fired. Caught her glove in the slide. Sliced right through. Bullet went ting off the top of the car, then through the window. Thinking, My baby my baby my baby as she stumbled and ended up on the ground. Gun in both hands. She couldn't do that. Needed one for her radio.

That fast-three seconds? Five? The shots. Six in a row. Poulson taking them standing until the last two punched through his skull. The pink and red mist bloomed and then raced off in the wind.

Holm grabbed for her radio, fingers numb. "Officer down! Officer down!" Location, unit, all that. Shouting. Keeping her sights trained on the spot that kid would show up if he stepped out of the car. Steady. Hand shaking. Steady.

Maybe they would leave. Come on. Take off already.

But then the driver's side door opened, and the driver's head rose into her line of fire, and she squeezed the trigger. Had no idea where the bullet went. She kept squeezing, but the kid was already crouched out of sight.