‘I’ve hated you, you know,’ she said. ‘I want you to know that’s what’s been going through my sick head.’

‘You were always too honest. You could’ve kept that one to yourself for a while, at least.’ Harper looked at her. ‘Hell, maybe I’ve deserved it.’

‘I don’t think you have. I’ve been in a bad place. No idea how to get out.’ The tone of her voice dropped a note and with it the volume. ‘I went to see Mac.’

‘I’m surprised, I thought that wasn’t your thing.’

‘Been to see every other specialist there is. Thought I’d give your recommendation a try.’

‘What did you think?’

‘Brutal, but it works.’

‘That’s good to hear. Come on, let’s sort you out.’

Harper led her in silence up the stairs and walked into the apartment. She looked around in obvious dismay.

‘Wow, you’ve decorated,’ she said.

‘It really makes a difference, doesn’t it?’ They looked at the one wall that had been half-coated in white paint. Harper went to a closet, pulled out a large clean towel and passed it to her. Denise ruffled her hair and pulled the towel around her. She sat down. She was shivering but still smiling. He went through to his bedroom and brought out a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt and a hooded top.

‘You should get into these, before you—’ He stopped himself.

‘Catch my death?’ she offered.

He twisted his mouth. ‘Okay, I’ll cut out the fussing.’

Denise took the clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

Harper stood at the door. ‘So, what you working on?’

‘What do you mean?’ said Denise.

‘I can read you, Denise. You didn’t come here just because of my problems.’

Denise called through the door, ‘You’re still good on observations. What gave it away?’

‘You’ve got a newspaper on you. You never liked newspapers. I figure you’re looking for news, which means you’re up to something. And, the big giveaway is you came here.’

Denise opened the bathroom door and stood there. ‘I came to ask for help.’

‘What is it?’

‘An old colleague and a missing child. His daughter ran away or something worse. He doesn’t understand. I went by to see him. He’s a mess. He thinks something or someone happened.’

‘And what do you think?’

‘I agree with him.’

‘What does he want you to do?’

‘Prove that she didn’t run away. Missing Persons are shelving the case. I’m all he’s got.’

‘You get anywhere?’

‘I’m not a detective. But you are.’

Harper looked up. ‘On a good day.’ Then: ‘Can I offer you something? A word of advice?’

‘You can try.’

‘Don’t try to solve other people’s problems because you can’t solve your own.’

She looked up, hurt. ‘That’s unfair, Tom. I’m trying to get back to work.’

‘You could have come to see me any time.’

‘No, Tom, I had to know this was about me, about whether I could face this alone.’

‘Come on, you’re a helper, Denise — all your life, you’ve been saving someone, helping someone. That’s who you are. You helped me. You brought yourself up. You saved your old man from losing hope when he was inside.’

‘No, I didn’t. I left him. I visited every week. That was all I could do.’

‘Sure you did, Denise. He told you that you always had to have faith. The same faith you used to get you through. What did he call it? That thing in the dark that he said he always held every night and that kept him from being afraid.’

‘His fantastic sparkler,’ she said.

‘That was you, Denise. That was you he was holding in the dark all those years in prison. His fantastic sparkler.’

Denise broke into silent sobs. Harper didn’t comfort her. It wasn’t pain that she was suffering. It was relief.

‘What the hell do you want, you bastard? Making me cry and look weak and foolish. This is why I hate you!’

‘I want to help you.’

‘It’s not that kind of help I want, Tom. I’m involved in this case because I think I can do some good. I went to see the case-files; I started a profile. Victimology.’

‘What did you find?’

‘A way in. I think there’s something here.’

‘Okay,’ said Tom. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll help if I can, but I’ve got a big case just starting up.’

‘I know. I saw you on TV,’ she said. ‘What’s the deal?’

‘Put simply, David Capske got wrapped in barbed wire and shot. Everyone has it down as a political killing.’

‘But you don’t see it like that?’

‘No evidence. I know it’s nice and neat, and someone wants us to see it like that, but I see something that I’ve only ever seen with sadistic serial killers.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Someone who’s got no real ulterior motive. The kill is the thing, the whole thing and nothing but the thing. Whoever killed Capske liked it. Liked it a lot and will do it again.’

‘Gratification killer?’

Harper raised his eyebrows.

‘You got a profiler working on this?’ said Denise.

‘Rookie that the Feds sent.’

‘Any good?’

‘Not good enough. We’ve only got twenty-four hours before Lafayette rolls over and the Feds come in and take over the investigation.’

‘I could take a look,’ she said. ‘Offer a comment.’

‘Tit for tat?’

‘One good deed deserves another…’

‘What do you want me to do on the missing girl?’ asked Harper.

‘I need some help getting access to the Hate Crime Unit.’

‘What do you need them for?’

‘A couple of months back, Abby was roughed up as she walked home. It’s all I’ve got. A group of four young men. Hate Crime found them and took them in for questioning but couldn’t make anything stick. A week later, there was a swastika painted on the Goldenbergs’ front door.’

‘You think it’s related?’

‘It’s the only evidence of anyone targeting the family and my profile suggests that if Abby was attacked, then it was someone who knew where she lived, knew her name and wanted to hurt her and her family.’

‘What are the guys called?’

‘Raymond Hicks, Patrick Ellery, Leo Lukanov, Thomas Ocksborough.’

Harper wrote down the names. ‘I know someone in Hate Crime. I can call him up, give you a good reference, get you some information.’

‘Thanks, Tom. It might help.’

‘And if you’re going to help me, you need to take a look at this victim.’

‘I suppose I’d have to.’

‘It’s not pretty. It’s a hell of a way back in to your day job.’

‘I’ll cope,’ said Denise. ‘Or at least I’ll give that impression.’

Office of the Chief Medical Examiner, Manhattan

March 7, 6.36 p.m.

Harper waited for Eddie Kasper to find his way to the department parking lot. Eddie got in the front passenger seat and turned round: Denise Levene sat in the back of the sedan. Eddie’s eyes opened wide. ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’

‘Yeah, maybe, but I’m not one of your conquests.’

‘I wish,’ said Eddie, ‘but I don’t go for smart women, they see right through me.’

‘And see what? A good guy with a fine line in self-deprecation.’

‘Hey, Tom, she’s back, right? The mouth and everything.’

‘Yeah,’ said Tom, ‘and everything.’

They drove by the city Medical Examiner’s office and caught up with Dr Laura Pense, the Deputy Chief Medical Examiner. Denise stood at the back of the small group as they entered. She wanted to be closest to the door if the panic attack started.

Harper turned to Levene. ‘This one is pretty bad, Denise. You sure you want to tag along?’ She nodded.

The two detectives and Denise Levene walked inside and trailed down familiar corridors. Dr Laura Pense was sitting in a small windowless office, writing up paperwork. Harper knocked and stood at the door.

‘Hey, Dr Pense, how are you?’

Laura Pense continued to hammer out something on her keyboard. ‘All good, here, Detective, how about you?’

‘He’s a fucking mess,’ said Eddie, ‘but you already know that, right?’

Laura turned and saw Harper’s face for the first time. ‘Jesus,’ she said. ‘Were you assaulted or something?’