‘Why didn’t you tell the cops?’ Marty asked, moving his finger a little closer.

‘In my family, we take care of our own business.’

‘And now your business is to kill Jack.’

‘That’s correct. An eye for an eye. I’m not an indiscriminate murderer. These are righteous acts, and Jack is the last of them. I don’t have to kill you, Mr Pullman, and I certainly don’t want to. Originally I’d hoped to stay on at the nursery, helping Mrs Gilbert, maybe even make my life here…’

Marty heard Jack’s sharp intake of breath behind him, and had a hard time keeping his face expressionless.

‘… but when I saw you, I knew I’d have to sacrifice that, just complete my mission, and then disappear. I’m happy to do that to spare your life, Mr Pullman. All you have to do is choose to live by passing over your weapon.’

Marty just stood there, eyes steady, finally feeling the safety nudge the side of his finger.

‘You’ve made your choice, haven’t you, Mr Pullman?’

‘I guess I have, Jeff.’

‘Goddamnit, Marty, give him the fucking gun!’ Jack yelled, jumping up from the sofa, making Marty start a little, and in that instant Jeff’s left foot shot out with amazing speed and accuracy, kicking the.357 out of Marty’s hand. It spun across the floor and under the sofa, hitting the wall behind it with a loud clunk.

Marty closed his eyes and kept them closed. Fifteen years a cop, disarmed by a kid. Goddamnit to hell, he couldn’t save anybody.

The gate to the nursery parking lot had been locked. By the time Magozzi and Gino pulled up, four squads were already lined up at the curb and another two were coming in from Lake Street. No lights, no sirens, thank God. Peterson was doing his job.

Viegs came trotting up to them, his hat protecting his hair plugs from the rain, a hat condom protecting the hat. ‘There’s a squad in the lot. Two of the guys went through the hedge to check it out. No sign of Becker. Didn’t know if you wanted us to go any further. Peterson said to wait.’

‘Hold on a minute,’ Gino said, pulling out his cell, shielding it from the driving rain. He keyed in a number and listened. ‘Pullman’s still not answering,’ he said.

‘Let’s move it,’ Magozzi said. ‘Viegs, cover the perimeter with whatever men you’ve got; we’re going in.’

He and Gino ripped off their rain slickers at the car – too restrictive, too noisy – and started circling the property close to the hedge, heading around the side to where the bushes opened, near the office. The thunder and lightning were easing up – just a flash or two and a distant rumble every few minutes – but the rain was heavy, and the wind was hitting them hard.

Please, please, Magozzi prayed to a god he wasn’t sure he believed in: Let Montgomery not be here, let him be at his apartment, let Langer and McLaren be slapping the cuffs on him right now, and let there be no more bodies in this awful war that never seems to end.

They found Becker in the planting beds a few yards from the office door. He was on his back, eyes closed, rain smacking against the young skin of his face, the entire left side of his head oozing blood. Magozzi didn’t know if Becker was alive or dead. He pressed hard into where the carotid should have beat against his fingers, and felt a pulse that could have been Becker’s, but might have been his own.

Gino was on his feet instantly, cell phone in his hand, racing toward the front of the greenhouse, frantically signaling the officers in the lot with hand gestures he’d learned in the academy and thought he’d forgotten.

Behind him, Magozzi crept closer to the office door alone. Slices of light were leaking out from around the edges.

Jeff Montgomery’s kick had had enough force behind it to push Marty back a few steps, and to break his hand. It hung uselessly at his side now, swollen and throbbing and empty.

‘I’m sorry I had to do that, Mr Pullman. It was the only way I could think of to save your life.’

Jesus, Marty thought, shaking his head, smiling helplessly. Jeff was focusing as much attention on saving Marty’s life as he was on taking Jack’s. It was such a bizarre, twisted sense of honor and right and wrong that for a minute, he couldn’t get it to gel in his head.

And then suddenly, it did, and he realized that he wasn’t just looking at Jeff Montgomery now – he was looking at Morey Gilbert, Rose Kleber, Ben Schuler, and last but certainly not least, Marty Pullman. For the first time in a long time, he felt easy with himself. He was looking at things head-on, seeing them clearly. ‘Listen to me, Jeff. I’ve been where you are; I’ve done what you’re doing; and I am telling you it is not a righteous act.’

Jeff eyed him cynically. ‘You do not understand. Killing in the line of duty isn’t the same thing.’

‘I never killed anyone in the line of duty.’

Now Jeff’s brows peaked with interest, and so did Jack’s ‘Just what exactly did you do, Mr Pullman?’

Marty took a breath and blew it out so the words would have something to float on. ‘I killed the man who killed my wife.’

Jack’s mouth sagged open and he reached back, found the edge of the sofa and eased himself down. ‘You shot Eddie Starr?’ he whispered, and Marty nodded without turning around to look at him.

Jeff was smiling at him beneficently. ‘Then it was a noble kill, Mr Pullman. You had to do it.’

‘I shot an unarmed man when he was sticking a needle in his arm, Jeff, and there was nothing noble about it. It wasn’t justice, it didn’t elevate me, it just made me a killer, and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do to fix that. But you’ve got a chance that I never had. Walk away from the last one. Make a choice not to kill. Just turn around and walk out that door, and you’ll have that to hang on to for the rest of your life.’

The wind was picking up outside, buffeting the side of the building, rattling the door in its frame.

Jeff was looking at him with pity in his eyes. ‘It’s really too bad, Mr Pullman. You did the right thing, the honorable thing, and you can’t even see it.’ He took a quick step left to get a clear shot at Jack and pulled the trigger, almost before Marty realized the moment was at hand. Almost, but not quite.

In that millisecond before Jeff’s finger tightened on the trigger, Marty had launched himself sideways into the air, feeling right, and good, and suddenly pure as he put himself between the bullet and the only innocent man in the room. The Amazing Flying Gorilla, he thought, and he was smiling as the bullet drilled into his lower chest.

‘Goddamnit!’ Jeff screamed, taking fresh aim at Jack, and then the door flew open, banging against the inside wall, ripping away from its hinges, and Magozzi crouched there in the driving rain and wind, shouting, ‘Drop it! Drop it!’

Jeff spun around fast, shooting wildly because he’d lost control, because everything was going wrong. When wood splintered near his head, Magozzi pulled his own trigger again and again, firing repeatedly into Jeff Montgomery’s chest, hot adrenaline feeding his muscles and skipping his brain so he wouldn’t see the baby-smooth face, the surprised blue eyes of the very young person he was killing.