He took my hand and pressed it against the wound. “Hold your hand here. And take shallow breaths. It’s okay now. I will put you out quickly once you answer some questions.” I opened my eyes. He was standing above me, wiping clean the blade, which was smaller than I’d have thought, long and narrow, barely wider than an ice pick. The sky was low and gray behind him. “What are you going to do?” “Me? Finish the job I was hired for and go collect my money.” “I didn’t know”—wince weep shame—“he said you were a dangerous bum—said you punched a cop.” “Oh, I did more than that,” he said. It hit me
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Brand hired Reston to kill the cop and then Del D to Kill him
