This story started here.
Somebody said, "Shit!"
Lenore dropped a lit match and quickly stamped it out.
Mac swallowed as if he was about to be sick.
Somerset stood up and stepped forward, but I pushed him in the center of his chest and he sat down again. starling's guns were holstered and all of her attention seemed to be on Foster, but given how quickly she had just moved I wasn't going to take any chances.
My employer looked uncertain. She had been shocked at first. We had witnessed violence before, some far worse than this, but never anything this quick and unexpected. I had the idea that starling's facial expression hadn't even changed. She wasn't angry at Foster, though he had apparently tried to frame her for murder. Something in what my employer had been saying had told her that Foster was guilty, and this was the most efficient way of getting him to confess.
I'm sparing you a detailed description of Foster's yells, curses, screams, and unsuccessful attempts to pull the knife out of the wall. I have no idea how long this went on, probably nowhere near as long as it seemed, and starling never moved or changed expression until Foster finally yelled his admission that he had shot Barney through the window while starling was in the bathroom, knowing she would be blamed.
She moved forward, planted her foot on the wall for leverage, and pulled the knife free.
Foster crumpled to the floor, clutching his injured hand and crying. starling picked up a dirty towel from the floor and started wiping off the knife. I moved to the door, opened it, and yelled, "Medic!"
Two aides rushed in with their kits.