He threw himself into Dev, Dev's gun firing off wildly, Charlie's eyes widening.

They struggled for a few seconds, the gun kicked away, my brother's face twisted with pain and rage. I pointed my gun, tried to tear them apart, but I couldn't get a clear shot at Dev and I was fearful my next shot might kill him before he told me where Maxie was. There was blood around, but I couldn't tell from whom.

I tried to pull my brother off and get my gun on Dev, but Dev grabbed an iron poker from the fireplace, hurling me against the wall, and swung it against Charlie's head. Then he pulled himself to his feet, turning his gaze on me. "I gave you every f.u.c.king chance in the world." He swung the poker at me and I dodged it, my ribs on fire. I wanted to kill him more than anything I'd ever felt, but I couldn't.

Not until he told me what I needed to know.

He was like some savage animal made even stronger by being wounded. He charged at me, grimacing. Then he hurled himself on top of me. He grabbed my arms, trying to wrestle my gun away.

I knew my life was only as good as my strength to hold on. But he was lit up by some animal fury, his hands tightly wrapping around mine, my fingers pressed against the trigger guard. I began to feel the gun inexorably make its way toward my chest-my strength eroding, my side feeling like it had been scorched by flame-and I fought with whatever strength I still had to fend him off.

But I was losing.

"I don't know, I thought you were a smart guy, doc." Dev grunted, eyes ablaze, his blood smeared across his shirt and mine.

"Where's my son?" I said, straining.

My chest tightened and my eyes grew wide as the muzzle kept shifting toward me.

I no longer had any certainty whose fingers were on the trigger. I was terrified that it would go off and that my son might never be found. I had already been about to die once today. Now it was happening all over again.

Dev's large hands seemed to envelop mine, my life, Maxie's life, in the balance. I felt with rising alarm his thighs shift over mine, his fingers about to squeeze, my breath held back in panic for what I was sure was the inevitable explosion in my chest.

Please, Jay, please, you can't let him win.

Then I heard it go off.

I screamed-braced for the sensation of the bullet tearing through me.

I didn't feel it.

Then I heard another shot.

Dev groaned, his viselike grip on me beginning to relax.

I looked up and saw my brother, one hand pressing a red hole in his own stomach, the other holding Dev's own gun.

Dev reached for his back, grasping at it like he was trying to pull a knife out of himself.

"Move away, Jay," Charlie said, his eyes like a furnace. "Just get away."

"Charlie, no. Don't!" I begged him to stop. "He has Maxie!"

Dev's face twisted, his flannel shirt matted with blood, and he let out a groan and fell off me.

I looked around. Susan Pollack was sitting on the floor with a shard of wood through her throat, a hand stuck to each side.

And Gabby . . . Poor Gabby . . . My sad gaze fixed on the sight of her slumped against Susan Pollack's legs, her eyes completely still and wide.

Charlie sat holding the gun. "I'm sorry, Jay, get away. He killed Evan. I want him dead."

"Where's my son?" I yelled at Dev.

His eyes rolled toward me, gloatingly.

"Where's my f.u.c.king son!" I said. "Tell me, or I'll let him kill you, so help me G.o.d."

Dev smirked and spat a glob of blood out of his mouth. Wobbly, he pushed himself up to a knee and grinned. "Tell your brother to take his shot, doc. Then we'll see where it goes, huh? We'll see who wins."

Pressing his thigh and reaching around to his back, Dev winced in pain and staggered toward the open door.

Charlie raised the gun again, and I could see him trying to summon the strength to squeeze off one final round, his aim wavering.

I begged him, "Charlie, please, no . . ."

He trained the gun on Dev's midsection. He strained in anguish to find the power. His eyes lit up with hate.

Then he just silently set it down.

Dev grinned and turned to me. "Enjoy the ride, doc."

Coughing blood, his hand reaching for his back, he slipped through the door.

I went over and took the gun out of my brother's hand. I saw a hole in his chest that was bleeding badly. He needed attention fast. I checked the wound on my side. It was ugly and red, but I was pretty certain nothing vital had been hit. Charlie looked toward Gabby, who was slumped against the wall next to Susan Pollack with an open, lifeless gaze.

I said, "I have to go after him, Charlie. Just hang in there, please . . ." He stared back blankly at me. "Keep pressure on your wound. Here . . ." I put his hand there. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't die . . ."

He nodded, eyes sagging behind his wild hair.

I ran out the door. It was dark, the courtyard erratically lit. Some people had come out of their apartments. "Call 911!" I shouted. "There's people dead in there. My brother's barely alive. Help him!"

My abdomen was on fire and when I pressed my hand to it; blood leaked out.

Don't let me bleed to death.

Twenty yards ahead, I caught the sight of a figure staggering into the darkness. I followed, spotting dots of blood on the pavement. He was probably headed for the woods across the street along the tracks, but I knew there wasn't far he could go. My biggest fear was that he would die-that I would find him rolled on his back, gla.s.sy eyed-without telling me what he knew about Maxie. I headed after him onto Division Street. I saw him up ahead, one arm hanging limply, dragging his leg.

I pointed the gun in his direction and squeezed off a shot above his head. "Stop, Dev. It's over. There's nowhere to go."

He took two or three more steps, unsteadily. Then he did stop, at last. He turned slowly, blood oozing from his mouth. He had a crazed look in his wolflike eyes, a mixture of fury and defeat.

Suddenly I heard the wail of sirens. From all directions.

Dev whirled, almost losing his balance, and faced two police cars that had turned onto Division Street. Flashing lights everywhere.

I set the gun down on the pavement and raised my hands. Police leaped out of their vehicles, weapons drawn, shouting at both of us, "Hands in the air! Get down to the ground!"

"Don't shoot!" I yelled. "Whatever you do, don't shoot. He's got my son."

One of them knelt behind their car door and pointed his gun at us. "I said put your hands in the air and get onto the ground!"

Nervously, I crouched down, lowering my knees to the surface of the road, hands raised.

Dev just stood there, ignoring their commands. He shifted back toward me. "Want to know why you're still alive, doc?" he said, almost smiling.

My hands were in the air, an eye on the approaching officers. "Yes, I do."

He winked. "Because you still have work to do. Things yet to find out."

"Tell me what you did with Max, Dev! Please!"

More police arrived on the scene. Six or seven had now basically encircled us, barking for Dev to get down.

"Don't shoot!" I hollered, raising my palms. A couple of them were approaching, weapons drawn. "He has my son captive." Then I turned to him again. "What do you mean, Dev, things to find out?"

"Ever play cards, doc?" the bleeding killer asked.

"No." I shook my head. "Not since college."

"You oughta." He stretched a smile.

A heavyset black policeman came up, pointing his weapon directly at him. He shouted, scaring the wits out of me, "Put your hands above your head and get your a.s.s down. Now!"

"You know the jack of hearts?" he said, turning away from him.

I nodded.

"You should. I think you might learn something from it. That card just might have your future in it."

The jack of hearts. I had no idea what he was talking about.

The officer bellowed one last time. "Get on the f.u.c.king ground!"

Dev seemed to smile, glancing at them, then back at me. "Me-my future's run out." He finally raised one hand high in the air, as if complying-but with the other, kind of in slow motion, reached under his shirt and came out with a knife. The same one he had waved in my face at the motel. That he had used to cut me.

I pleaded, "Dev, don't."

"I think you remember." He grinned in my direction. "Some people feel I can do just about anything with this thing . . . The jack of hearts, doc. Don't forget. One day it's gonna give you a real smile. The day the devil sprouts horns."

He started to come toward me, the knife in his fist, raised high.

"Don't do it," I said, almost helpless, "please."

His pace picked up.

Now the police were really pointing their weapons at him and screaming.

"Don't shoot," I hollered, "please don't shoot!" getting up and putting out my hands to push them back.

Suddenly, a couple of them trained their weapons on me. I was almost crying. "Don't shoot. He's got my son. Please!"

Dev got about five paces away. I never budged. I saw only Maxie's fate in his mad eyes, slipping into darkness.

"Don't!" I screamed. "Don't! Please!"

The next thing I heard was a deafening barrage of shots-maybe six, eight, ten echoing pops. Bullets tearing into him, ripping into his clothes with flashes of yellow and orange, the stench of cordite everywhere.

Dev was blown onto his back, the knife clattering against the pavement. From there, he just sort of raised his head and grinned at me. You still have work to do, doc. Things yet to find out.

That was all.

Panicked, I scrambled up to him, against shouted commands to stay where I was. He was making wheezing, guttural noises. Blood seeped out of his mouth.

"Please, Dev, please. Where's Maxie?"

"d.a.m.n" was all he said. "I thought I would see him."

"See who?" I asked. "See who?" The cops were pulling me away.

His eyes rolled back and what he grunted last explained it all.

"Russ."

Chapter Seventy-Eight.

A moment later I was surrounded by cops, their weapons still drawn, barking commands I didn't hear.

As they pulled me away, it hurt like h.e.l.l. I told them my brother was dying back inside the apartment and two additional bodies were in there.

After a quick explanation, they let me go back to the apartment.

Poor Gabby was slumped at the feet of Susan Pollack, dead. Charlie was resting where I had left him propped up against the wall.

"Charlie," I said, kneeling down next to him. There was blood all over his palm and a lot more congealed on his shirt.

"Where's Gabby?" he asked in a hushed voice, staring gla.s.sily.

"She's here, Charlie, she's here." I didn't want him to see her. I didn't want that to be his last sight.

"She's dead, isn't she, Jay? I know she's dead."

"Yes," I said, even as the life slipped away from him. "She is."