Page 63 of Murder Notes

I give him a nod and leave, starting down the stairs.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The minute I’m on the street again, suffocated by the Manhattan crush of bodies, I start walking toward the subway, aware that I’m being followed, the weapon at my ankle like a cozy, cuddly blanket on a November eve. I weave through the crowd, aware of a figure to my right rear side. With a turn of a corner, I gain a glimpse of him: average height, dark hair, unattractive, and rather hard-looking from a distance. I don’t have a handle on nationality, but since I have a feeling he’ll be my shadow for the rest of the day, I’m sure I’ll get my chance to figure it out. Kane, no doubt, is behind this, but then again, his employee died the night I arrived. Someone is afraid of the path I’m leading law enforcement—and perhaps Kane—down.

That someone could easily be a member of the Romano family, who’d have access and resources to hire an assassin, but like Kane, I’d think they’d have their own people. Unless . . . Fuck. I stop walking. Both the Romanos and Kane himself might hire an outsider because it’s not what would be expected. It’s not Kane, I remind myself. He was sideswiped by those photos this morning, but I’m damn sure not going to start that war I feared when I first heard the Romano name by telling him they could be in the mix.

I start walking again, removing my phone from my purse and dialing Murphy. “Talk to me, Agent Love.”

“There’s something big going on here.”

“Big is a vague term used for things like food and generalization. Big Mac. Big deal. Big—”

“I think someone hired an assassin and now they’re covering it up. Maybe the Romano family. Maybe someone I have yet to identify.”

“Why do you think Romano?”

I go through the details of the case and then dive in for the save. “I need to help Harrison. What can we do?”

“He’s now your informant. We’ll protect him.”

“Informant cops die.”

“Not if it’s never known. We’ll protect him and clear his name if you prove he’s been set up.”

“Great. So while I’m dealing with an assassin and numerous setups, I should prove he’s innocent.”

“You might be surprised how solving one crime makes everything else collide in a brilliant way.”

I really hate him right now. “Tic Tac has full authority to do whatever I need him to do, correct?”

“Tic who?”

“Jeff,” I say. “He has authority to get me what I need.”

“He does, within reason.”

“Within reason?” I ask, knowing that translates to hands tied with a ball in your mouth, and not for pleasure.

“It’s not a limitation, Agent Love. If you need something he can’t give you, call me. I have to get to a meeting. Stay in touch and stay safe.” He hangs up, and my phone immediately rings with Tic Tac on the caller ID.

“What do you have for me?”

“The detective you asked about—”

“Was shot and is on leave.”

“So much for my kudos.”

“Kudos,” I say. “Who shot him?”

“Some nobody thug with a list of at least ten arrests.”

“And Nelson Moser?”

“Shot one of his partners who got in the line of fire in a shootout. Nasty stuff. Other than that, he looks squeaky-clean.”

“He’s not. Dig deeper. And see if you can connect the thug you mentioned to the Romano family.”