At the same instant, a loud pop sounded from the police line.

Kane’s body jerked backward as if he had been yanked by an invisible rope.

He hit the side of the SUV, then slid down into the dirty slush.

The silver revolver fell from his hand, spinning across the ice before coming to a stop near the water’s edge.

Rachel fell to her knees just ten feet away, panting, her face buried in the snow.

Eli broke free from Isabella’s grip and ran to her, throwing his arms around her neck.

They huddled together on the wet wood, the red and blue lights washing over them.

I stood up slowly, the gun heavy in my hand.

The barrel was still smoking, the thin wisp of grey drifting away in the wind.

The lead officer approached me, his hand resting on his holster.

“Give me the weapon, Moretti,” he said.

I looked at him for a long moment.

He was a young guy, his face red from the cold, his badge shining under the harbor lights.