Kisser (2010)

“As if you had one.”
    “We’re going to set down in front of the Citation so that he can’t taxi, jump out, arrest anybody who moves, shoot anybody who produces a gun.”
    They were half a mile out now.
    “Why did you want me to bring the .22 target pistol?”
    Stone looked at him. “I want you to shoot Hildy Parsons.”
    “What ? ”
    “Don’t kill her, but make sure she’s not able to run for the jet.”
    “You’re crazy. I’m not shooting her!”
    “Don’t let her get on that airplane, Dino!” Stone turned back just in time to see them set down twenty yards from the Citation. Dino was already getting out of the copter, followed by Mitzi.
    Stone unbuckled his belt and started moving toward the door. “Oh, shit,” he said aloud, “we’re not close enough to the jet.”
    By the time he made it onto the tarmac everybody on the other copter was running toward the Citation. Sig Larsen produced a pistol and got off a couple rounds. Somebody—Dino or Mitzi—shot him, and he fell to one knee. Derek Sharpe grabbed his arm and started pulling him toward the Citation. Hildy had gone back to the other helicopter for her purse and was not yet running toward the Citation, which had its engines running and was making a sharp turn to the right to clear the helicopter’s blades.
    “Shoot Hildy!” Stone shouted to Dino, who was closer to the airplane, then pulled his own gun and began firing at the nosewheel of the Citation, missing on the first two shots.
    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hildy go down. Then he aimed again at the Citation’s nosewheel and saw it go flat. Sharpe had dragged Larsen aboard the airplane and was trying to close the door. Hildy was screaming at him from the tarmac and trying to drag herself toward the airplane, which was still moving, even with the flattened nosewheel.
    Stone ran to the airplane, jerked the half-closed door open, got hold of Sharpe’s jacket lapel, and jerked him off the airplane, spilling Larsen out as well. The airplane stopped moving, and the engines began to spool down. Dino produced handcuffs and went to work. Stone looked around. Where was Mitzi?
    Stone turned and looked back. Mitzi was lying on her back, propped up on one elbow. “Oh, God!” he shouted and began to run toward her. He got a glimpse of Hildy and saw blood on her skirt. Dino had put a .22 slug into her ass.
    Stone reached Mitzi, got an arm around her, and pulled her into a sitting position. He realized immediately that she wasn’t wearing a vest. “Where are you hit?” he shouted over the noise of the helicopter, whose rotor was still turning.
    “I’m not hit!” she cried. “I broke a heel and fell!”
    Stone looked at her feet and saw the shoe with the missing heel. He helped her to her feet. “Call 911 and get an ambulance; we’ve got two down, Larsen and Hildy. Then call Brian again.”
    She grabbed her phone and began dialing while Stone ran to help Dino.
    “Well, you finally hit the nosewheel,” Dino said, snapping cuffs onto Sharpe. “How many rounds did that take?”
    “One,” Stone replied. “The first two were practice.”

59
    STONE WAS BACK at his desk late that afternoon when the phone buzzed.
    “Bill Eggers on one,” Joan said.
    “Hello, Bill?”
    “You shot Hildy Parsons?” Eggers said with outrage in his voice.
    “Certainly not,” Stone said. “There were bullets flying everywhere, and if you’d like to check the bullet that struck her against my gun, you’re welcome to.”
    “Were you carrying a .22?”
    “Of course not. You’re not going to stop anybody with a .22. I was carrying a 9mm.”
    “Hildy Parsons was shot with a .22. Cops don’t carry .22s.”
    “My point exactly,” Stone replied.
    “Then who shot her?”
    “Maybe some hunter in the woods. It’s a rural area, you know; lots of hunters up there.”
    “What would a hunter shoot with a .22?”
    “Squirrels? Rabbits? Probably some kid.”
    “Philip Parsons is livid.”
    “Hildy Parsons is alive.”
    “But wounded.”
    “If she hadn’t been wounded she might have made it to that jet, and Philip Parsons wouldn’t have a daughter anymore. You might explain to Parsons that Sharpe and Larsen were carrying a couple of million in drugs and that much more in cash, and if they had made it, his daughter would have been a fugitive from justice, and he would be spending millions fighting her extradition. As it is, she was just an innocent bystander. I’ve seen to