“It’s Wise,” she exclaimed, as she activated the call. “Bill, we’ve been trying to reach you. We think Sabatini may be on his way to you.”

Wise interrupted her and she listened as he relayed what happened. She then told him to hold on while she shared it with the others.

“Bill’s okay, but Stark’s dead. Sabatini pitched a flash-bang into the hotel room, and while Bill was down he put a round into each of Stark’s kneecaps and then a round through the base of his throat. There was nothing Bill could do for him. Bill says it was pretty obvious that Sabatini wanted Stark to die as painful a death as possible.”

“Where is Bill now?” Harvath asked.

Ryan asked him and then replied, “He sanitized the room as quickly as he could and barely made it out of the hotel. He’s about four blocks away now. Says there are police cars everywhere.”

McGee, who had been listening to the radio, nodded. “Boston PD has confirmed a gunshot fatality at the Renaissance.”

Harvath looked at Cordero. “Anyone answering?”

As Ryan’s call had come in, Cordero had checked her own phone. She had missed a call from home.

This was the second time she had tried calling back. Pulling the cell phone away from her ear, she shook her head. “That’s not like them. My parents always pick up.”

Whether it was the mother in her or the detective, she decided to call her tenants in the downstairs apartment just to make sure everything was okay.

As the boat pulled up to the dock, Harvath addressed Ryan and McGee. “You know where the rally point is, so pick Wise up, or have him meet you there. But hurry.”

Hopping out onto the dock, he offered his hand to Cordero and helped her out of the boat. No sooner had her feet touched the pier than all the color drained from her face.

“What is it?” Harvath asked.

“One of the neighbors saw Sal going into my building. We need to get back there. Now!” she ordered.

They both took off running and found her car right where she had left it. Leaping in, they made as much noise leaving the harbor as they had when they had arrived.

In any other city, Harvath would have wanted to be the one doing the driving, but with Boston’s nightmare of one-way streets, he was glad to have her behind the wheel.

As they entered her neighborhood, she killed the siren but kept the wigwags flashing. Then, a block before her home, she killed those, too.

The gradual falling away of her mental armor and police persona that Harvath had so admired earlier in the evening wasn’t happening this time. There’d be no stand-down until she knew her family was safe.

They parked around the corner and Cordero laid out how she wanted to handle it.

“Promise me,” she insisted.

Harvath didn’t like what she was proposing. Sal Sabatini was a killer. It didn’t matter how many years they had worked together.

“Promise me,” she repeated.

There was no way he was going to talk her out of it. She had made up her mind. Reluctantly, he agreed and gave her his word.

Standing there as she walked away, he was certain that they had both just made the biggest mistake of their lives.

 • • •

Opening the downstairs door, Cordero crept up to her second-floor apartment as quietly as she could. The stairs were more than a hundred years old, and even in places you thought were safe to put your weight, they still creaked. It was almost as bad as having a little dog yapping the alarm that someone was coming. Not that it mattered, because when she reached the landing, she saw that her front door was wide open and knew that Sal Sabatini was already waiting for her.

Stepping into her apartment, she saw her mother first, tears rolling down her cheeks. Next to her was her father, his face a mixture of fear and anger. Finally, as she stepped all the way inside, she saw Sal, holding them at gunpoint.

“Please close the door behind you,” he said.

Cordero did as she was told.

“Good. Now please, slowly, remove both of your weapons and slide them across the floor to me.”

“Where’s Marco?” she asked as she slid both of the guns to him.

Sliding the weapons into the new jacket he was wearing, he replied, “He’s safe.”

“Where is he, Sal? Tell me.”

“He’s in his room, asleep. You don’t have to worry.”

“Why did you come here?”

“I wanted to tell you that I took care of everything.”

“Meaning, what? That you killed those men?” she said. “Cushing? Vaccaro? Stark? Along with all the other people you’ve killed? That’s why you came here?”

Sabatini held his finger to his lips. “Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want to wake Marco.”

“Sal, this needs to end. You’re sick. You need help.”

The man smiled at her. “It is going to end. Trust me. By the way, where’s your new partner?”

“I don’t have a new partner, Sal. You’re my partner.”

The killer’s smile faded, replaced by anger. “What do you think I am? Stupid? You don’t think I see how he looks at you?”

“Sal, he doesn’t—”

“Shut up!” he roared. “Shut up!”

“Sal, I want to get you help.”

“I don’t need any help. I help you. Remember? When your husband died?”

“I remember, Sal. You helped us a lot.”

“You don’t remember shit. All you care about is yourself, you selfish bitch!”

Cordero’s father attempted to stand, but Sabatini shoved him back down.

The female detective tried to deescalate things and spoke calmly to her father in Portuguese.

“That’s right,” Sabatini sneered. “You tell him that if he does that again, he’s a dead man.”

Cordero said a few more words and then turned back to the killer. “Sal, if you came to say goodbye, let’s say goodbye. Please, before anyone gets hurt.”

His face went from enraged to an odd smile. “I didn’t come to say goodbye. I came to take you with me.”

“I’m sorry, Sal. My place is here, with my son.”

“Marco will be with us.”

The way he said it sent shivers down her spine.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone. I’m done hurting people. I’m done hurting myself. No one is going to feel any pain anymore.”

“Sal, please—” she began, hoping she could talk him into laying down his weapon and not harming anyone else.

“Fuck please!” he shouted. “I’m the lion. You don’t tell the lion what to do. Not now. Not ever. You do what I say, when I say it. You obey me. Do you understand me?”

Cordero nodded. The man was coming completely unspooled.

“Now, where’s your fucking boyfriend? And don’t you lie to me.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Sal.”

“Liar!” he screamed, reaching out with his free hand and striking her across the face.

Cordero’s father leapt up to challenge him and Sabatini struck him across the side of his face with his pistol. The older man’s knees buckled and he fell back onto the couch.

Cordero spoke to him rapidly in Portuguese once more and then turned her attention to the killer.

“Sal, stop this.”

“Sal, stop this,” he replied, mocking her. “No more games. It’s time to go.”

Grabbing her by the hair, he pulled her head down so she had to walk with it sideways. Looking at her angry father and terrified mother, Sabatini said, “If you move, everyone dies. The boy dies. Do you understand?”

Cordero spoke again in Portuguese to her parents, who sat frozen in place on the couch, and they nodded.

Sabatini smiled. “Good. Let’s move,” he commanded as he dragged her over to the base station for her cordless phone, ripped it out of the wall, and then dragged her down the hall toward Marco’s room.

“Sal, you don’t have to do—”

“Shhh,” he whispered, cutting her off. “It’s all going to be very quiet, very soon. You’ll see. We’re going to be happy.”

They reached Marco’s room and Sabatini used the toe of his boot to push the door open. He looked down into the bed, but the little boy was gone.