“I was also experiencing this ridiculous urge to laugh from contemplating the hammer in my pocket. It would be a big help now, wouldn’t it? What was I supposed to do—hurl it at him like a boomerang and knock him out cold before he had the chance to shoot? Somehow this one, still rational square inch of my brain took control. It commanded me to stay calm, to do nothing to make Trip agitated. “Trip,” I said quietly, “why are you doing this? Why would you point a gun at me?” I hoped the 911 operato...r had picked up enough of what I’d said to realize that there was now a gun in the picture. Trip laughed, though it came out more as a bark. His eyes looked wild, as if he’d helped himself to some laudanum before dropping by. “Why am I doing this? No, the question is why are you doing this? You’re the one trying to hurt me.” “What do you mean?” “Oh, please,” he said, turning his head slightly and looking to the side, as if there were people offstage he hoped to enlist in support of his displeasure.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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