The knife, carrying the scent of death, pierced Paul's throat, but only the tip entered before falling away.
Paul pressed his hand to his throat, his eyes filled with despair as he looked at Kris.
Mr. Parker walked around the table, picked up the fruit knife, and said,"I slipped."
He wiped the blood from the tip of the knife onto Paul's face and added,"Sorry."
Paul, sweating, took two steps back. Seeing we weren’t going to stop him, he bolted!
I heard the sound of a gun being c****d. Paul lunged forward and crashed through the door.
The entrance door of the restaurant shook violently, and the wind chimes, announcing the arrival of guests, rang chaotically.
I turned to Mr. Parker, and he responded with a firm nod.
"Thank you," he said. "Debbie, my sister, messaged me today. She told
