“You think being afraid makes you weak.”
Mike remembered looking up.
His father crouched down.
“No,” he said. “Being afraid tells you where the danger is.”
It was one of the few useful things his father had ever taught him.
Mike had spent the next forty-nine years remembering it.
Fear wasn't weakness.
Fear was information.
And Leo Danton was broadcasting information from every inch of his body.
The tremor in his left hand.
The way his shoulders were raised.
The shallow breathing.
The constant glance toward the door.
The eyes that never quite focused on Mike.
Leo wasn't dangerous because he wanted to hurt someone.
He was dangerous because he was desperate.
Desperation could turn ordinary men into terrible ones.
Mike knew that too.
He looked at Brenda.
“Keep your hands where he can see them.”
Brenda nodded.
Mike looked at Leo.
“You're going to put the shotgun on the floor.”
Leo's eyes narrowed.
“Don't tell me what to do.”
“Fair enough.”
Mike leaned back.
“But you're still going to put it down.”
“Why?”
“Because you don't know how to hold it.”
Leo's face flushed.
“I know how to use a gun.”
“No.”
Mike shook his head.
“You know how to hold one.”
That distinction hit harder than a punch.
Corey looked at the shotgun.
Then at Leo.
Mike continued.
“Your finger is too close to the trigger.”
Leo immediately moved it.
Mike noticed.
“So you do know what I'm talking about.”
Leo said nothing.
Mike took another sip of coffee.
“You want money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Leo hesitated.
“Everything in the register.”
“That's not an amount.”
Leo's jaw tightened.
“Whatever's in there.”
Mike nodded.
“Probably less than three hundred dollars.”
Brenda whispered, “Two hundred and seventeen.”
Mike looked at her.
“You counted it?”
“Every shift.”
Mike smiled faintly.
“Two hundred and seventeen.”
Leo stared at the register.
“That won't be enough.”
“For what?”
Leo didn't answer.
Mike waited.
Finally, Leo said:
“Debt.”
Mike nodded.
“To whom?”
“Doesn't matter.”
“It matters.”
“No.”
“It matters if you're planning to walk out alive.”
Corey suddenly spoke.
“Toad.”
Leo spun around.
“Shut up!”
Corey's face went pale.
Mike's expression didn't change.
“Toad?”
Leo looked at the floor.
Mike knew the name.
Everyone who had spent enough time around Fresno knew it.
Richie Colton.
Small-time lender.
Street gambler.
Extortionist.
The kind of man who could turn a five-hundred-dollar debt into a life sentence without ever signing a piece of paper.
Mike looked at Leo.
“How much?”
Leo said nothing.
Corey answered.
“Almost six thousand.”
Mike exhaled.
“For two hundred and seventeen dollars.”
Leo's eyes filled with frustration.
“You don't understand.”
“No.”
Mike nodded.
“I don't.”
Leo raised the shotgun again.
Brenda gasped.
Mike didn't move.
“You're right,” Mike said. “I don't understand your life.”
Leo's hands trembled harder.
“But I understand this moment.”
“What?”
“You're standing in a diner with a gun pointed at an old man because you think the only choices left to you are prison or violence.”
Leo's breathing stopped for a moment.
Mike leaned forward.
“Those aren't your only choices.”
Leo stared at him.
“What other choice?”
Mike pointed toward the chair across from him.
“Sit down.”
Leo laughed.
It was a nervous laugh.
“You're crazy.”
“Maybe.”
Mike shrugged.
“But I'm still right.”
Corey looked at Leo.
“Man…”
Leo didn't move.
Mike waited.
One second.
Two.
Ten.
Finally, Leo lowered the shotgun.
He placed it on the floor.
Brenda let out the breath she had been holding.
Corey removed the revolver from his waistband.
He placed it on the counter.
Mike looked at him.
“Good.”
Corey swallowed.
Then he sat down.
Leo remained standing.
Mike pointed at the chair.
“Your turn.”
Slowly, Leo sat.
For the first time that night, all four people in the diner were sitting down.
Nobody had been hurt.
Nobody had fired a shot.
And Mike Callahan knew that was only the beginning.
Because men like Leo didn't walk into places like Pioneer Wells because they wanted to become criminals.
They walked in because somewhere along the way, they had stopped believing there was another way out.
Brenda called the sheriff.
She did it from behind the kitchen door.
Mike knew.
Leo knew.
Corey knew.
Nobody stopped her.
When the first patrol car appeared outside twenty-two minutes later, Leo looked at Mike.
“You said we'd figure something out.”
“We will.”
“You knew she called.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
“No.”
Mike looked directly at him.
“I said we'd figure something out.”
Sirens approached.
Leo closed his eyes.