An Old Friend

Mike was a faster driver than me. Lots of zipping in and out of lanes, lots of speeding. We dashed to the house of the first man as fast as we could. The door was left open, swinging, and we sprinted in through it. We heard a thud upstairs, and I rushed up, leaving mike at the door to stand guard. I couldn't believe what I saw when I hit the landing. The first man was curled up in the corner of the nursery, covering his child as well as he could, and standing over him was the last person I expected: Wilson Ingram, the cop who first attacked me. I immediately had my pistol trained on him, and he looked up as I entered the room. He smiled an acid smile at me, and fired two shots, one for father, one for son, and greeted me like an old friend.
"Allen, what a pleasant surprise."
He trained his gun on me next, and I ducked into the hallway to avoid his shot, which shattered a door at the end of the hall. The laughter was unsettling, he just broke out and laughed. "Good to see you've gotten quicker, Alan! Let's have some fun!"
Ingram walked slowly down the hall, toward the door I was hiding behind, leading with his pistol. I heard him fire another shot, followed by a shout from downstairs. Mike. He was unarmed, and I had left him alone. I jumped out from behind the door, and found Ingram pointing his gun downward. I lept at him, and caught his arm, knocking him to the ground. He pulled the trigger as his arm hit the floor and broke under my shoulder. He wailed on me with his free hand, and I pinned his throat under my elbow, and used my left hand to take his gun from the now limp arm. I held it to his head and told him to hold still. I called for mike, who responded that he was fine, and then began my interrogation of Wilson Ingram.