I see it. I lunge as he walks over, confident he's put me down. I slam my hand into the back of his knee. It buckles. I dive and hit the floor, shoving the knife along with me. I pick it up and--
I recognize the knife.
It's a pocket one. That's not unusual here. If you want one, you can buy it. The only reason I don't have mine is that I took it out on the jobsite to pry open a can.
"Here, Case, let me get that for you." A pocketknife appears.
"Got my own," I say. "But thanks."
I see the hand that grips the knife in my memory. I want to tell myself I'm wrong, but I have seen this knife too many times. I know who owns it.
Kenny.
I have Kenny's knife in my hand, as I'm backing into the wall. Brady keeps coming at me. I'm ready for him, ready to--
A muzzle flash from across the room. I swear I feel the bullet whiz past my head.
Val gasps in alarm. "Casey!"
"I'm fine."
"Oliver?" she says. "Stop or I'll--"
"Shoot?" he says. "Please do. With that aim, you're going to hit your own detective."
"Val?" I say. "The door is to your left. It's open. I want you to step left and back out. I've got this."
"If you leave, I'll kill Casey," Brady says.
"I'm the one holding the knife," I say.
"Doesn't matter. We both know how quickly that can change. I'm fighting for my life here. I will get that knife. I will stop you. I might kill you, but I don't want to. I just want to walk out of here."
"Do you really think I'd let a serial killer--"
"Serial killer?" He chokes on the words. "Is that what Greg told you? Figures. He didn't even keep his story consistent. Had to adapt it for the audience. A salesman to the core."
"You threatened to kill Val. You're threatening to kill me. And you're still proclaiming your innocence?"
"Because I am innocent. I'm fighting for my life. My actual life. I was shot at two days ago, nearly lynched yesterday, poisoned this morning--"
"Your accomplice gave you the poison."
That's the possibility that I failed to see. The niggling question in my head. I kept coming back to the possibility he'd faked it when I knew that couldn't be true. Yet faking it wasn't the only way he could be complicit.
"You're saying I knowingly put myself through that hell?" he says.
"It got you what you wanted, didn't it? And like you say, you're a desperate man."
"An innocent man, desperate to escape a death sentence. I will kill you if I have to. I don't want to. Just let me--"
He lunges, hoping I'm distracted. I feint to the side and slash. The knife slices his arm. He lets out a hiss and slams his fist into my gut. I double over, and he grabs my arm, trying to get the knife, but I grip it.
Val runs at us. She kicks at Brady, but he twists out of the way. He bodychecks her, and she goes flying. The gun fires.
I see the muzzle flare, and I dive, but Brady still has my arm. He yanks it and the knife falls. I manage to smack it away. That's all I can do--get the gun where we both can't reach it. But that move costs me a split second and in that second, Brady is on my back. He has my ponytail wrapped around his hand, wrenching my head. Then he stretches toward the knife.
"No!" It's a woman's voice, but not Val's. I manage to turn just enough to see Mathias and Diana behind Val.