Malloy straightened up, holding his hands far out from his sides, and turned to face the speaker.
A man (late-forties, wearing a blue serviceman jumper, brown eyes, about 6’3″ and 240 pounds) stood behind and to the left of Reed, eyes and shotgun trained on the younger officer’s back. Small leaves stippled green in his gray-black hair; he’d crawled through the bushes to knock Reed’s gun from his hands. His eyes flicked to Malloy. “Hands high, where I can see them.”
Then the guy glared at Reed again and called, “Jus? You okay?”
The man on the ground behind Malloy grunted. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“Stay out of reach of our officer friends. We don’t want them to think they can try anything.”
The man beside Reed continued. “Think you can get…
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