‘Could it be from someone David betrayed?’

‘He might feel that David has betrayed him. I wouldn’t imagine that the betrayal is real. This is someone’s psychosis working things through on real people. It’s dangerous, Tom.’

‘These other marks, what do they mean? Just dots…’

Harper looked down at the pattern on the page in front of him.

‘What do you think it means?’ he asked, looking at Eddie and Denise. They stared hard and shrugged.

‘No idea,’ said Eddie. ‘If that helps.’

‘Thanks, Laura,’ said Harper. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

Dr Pense stood up and followed him out. ‘Can I take a look at your face?’

Harper stopped. ‘What for?’

‘How’s your sight?’

‘Right eye good. Left eye not so good.’

Laura pushed Harper through the double doors into her office. ‘Sit down. I want a closer look.’

‘What for?’

‘Because if I don’t, no one will, right?’

Harper sat down at her desk and waited. Laura scrubbed her hands in a sink by the side wall, brought a pen light and pulled his head back. She shone the light into his eye and held it there for a minute.

‘Feds are looking into it too,’ said Harper. ‘They want to know if it’s to do with Judge Capske’s ruling and the reaction from the Gun Lobby.’

‘Is it?’

‘I doubt it.’ He looked up. ‘What’s the damage?’

Laura clicked the pen light off and put it in her pocket. ‘I think you’re okay. Your eye’s responding well to the light. But you should get it looked at properly.’

‘I just did,’ said Harper, rising and offering his hand. She took it and they shook.

Hate Crime Task Force, Brooklyn

March 7, 7.03 p.m.

Denise stood outside the rundown precinct in Brooklyn that housed the Brooklyn Hate Crime Squad. Harper had squared things with the Lieutenant, a friendly cop called Phil Trigg. They’d talk to Dr Levene, give her some background and chase up the records of the four men accused of bias attack on the Goldenbergs. All she wanted was something to take back to Detectives Munroe and Gauge that indicated abduction or worse.

Harper went with Eddie to Ballistics. The mangled bullet was the only piece of physical evidence that came from the killer, so Harper wanted to know if there was anything in it. Time was ticking down fast.

Denise headed up to the fourth floor. She still had her Civilian NYPD ID card with her photograph against a blue background. She approached the tall gray-haired figure ahead of her. ‘Dr Levene,’ she said, and held out her hand.

Lieutenant Trigg shook it firmly. ‘Harper explained,’ he said. ‘I’ve kept one of the team back for you. Detective Carney’s the man you want to speak to. His knowledge of the area is second to none. He’s got every hate group mapped and tagged. It’s an impressive operation he runs.’

‘I appreciate this,’ said Denise.

‘We all got daughters, Doctor, so if this might help some poor guy, then we’re happy to assist.’ The Lieutenant pointed. Denise found herself looking at the back of Jack Carney. He was tall, athletic with broad shoulders.

‘Detective Carney,’ said Denise.

Jack Carney turned. He stared across the precinct investigation room. His eyes were clear blue. He was handsome and confident. ‘You must be Dr Levene. Good to meet you.’

‘Thank you for agreeing to help.’

‘Not a problem. Harper gave me four names: Raymond Hicks, Patrick Ellery, Leonard Lukanov and Thomas Ocksborough.’

‘You know them?’

‘I know them as Ray Hicks, Paddy Ellery, Leo Lukanov, Tommy Ocks. I’ve done a quick check. I know a couple of them pretty well. That’s not usually a good sign.’ He smiled. Denise smiled back.

‘You married?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Is that relevant?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ said Carney. Denise stared. ‘Come on, I’m kidding you. You got to loosen up, Doctor. This is no comedy show down here, so we’ve got to cheer ourselves up.’

‘Can we concentrate on these four guys, rather than my marital status?’

‘Sure,’ said Carney. ‘Let’s go find a seat somewhere.’ He led Denise into one of the interview rooms, asking, ‘You got any indications of hate crime on this missing girl?’

‘Such as?’

‘Words, symbols… any indication that it was because of her religion?’

‘No. There’s nothing except this attack which happened much earlier.’

‘But you think these guys might have held a grudge?’

‘That’s what I’d like to take a look at. Where do they hang out?’

‘Brooklyn.’

‘Any chance you can take me on a tour? Maybe speak to them?’

‘These aren’t nice characters, Dr Levene — you sure you want to?’

‘I’m sure as long as you can spare the time.’

‘You’re not going to like what you see. They’re sick little thugs and they believe what they spout. It’s pretty hard not to react and I know you’re the kind to react.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ said Denise.

The third name on the list was Leo Lukanov. Carney and his partner muscled up close to the door. They were an intimidating pair. They knocked hard and loud and shouted out ‘NYPD — open up!’ They kept it going until the person inside felt that this was drawing too much attention to him.

The door opened. Leo Lukanov stood there. Close-cropped blond hair, pale blue eyes, full red lips. He was wearing a tank top, the number eighty-eight tattooed on one shoulder above an iron cross, some SS symbols on the right. Denise shied away immediately. She hadn’t expected the Nazi symbols.

Carney stared at Lukanov. He was strong and wiry. He didn’t smile or speak.

‘This is Dr Levene, Leo. Now you be nice and answer the lady’s questions or I’ll serve this warrant here and tear your digs to pieces.’ Carney waved a warrant. Denise had been told that it wasn’t real, but it didn’t need to be. Leo Lukanov’s eyes settled on her. ‘She’s working on the disappearance of Abby Goldenberg,’ added Carney.

Denise looked at the big tattooed figure ahead of her. He was cold, difficult — not bright, she guessed.

‘Mr Lukanov, you were questioned in relation to an alleged bias-attack on Abby Goldenberg,’ said Denise. ‘Do you remember the allegation?’

Lukanov smiled and leaned against the door. ‘The girl who thought someone grabbed her ass and shouted “Let’s fuck a Jew”? It was just wishful thinking. She couldn’t even say who grabbed her ass and who shouted something.’

‘Is that right?’ said Denise.

Leo leered forward. ‘Some girls just want to improve their bloodline,’ he said. ‘Maybe you like the look of what you see, too?’

The back of Carney’s hand hit Lukanov’s shoulder. ‘Be polite, retard.’

Denise flicked open her notes. ‘This your line, Leo, sexually motivated hate crime? You into that — hate and lust? That make you tick?’

‘We didn’t do nothing. She imagined it. We were shouting all kinds of things. Just walking and shoving. Nothing about or against anyone. She must’ve got confused.’

‘You’re wearing some Nazi symbols,’ said Denise. ‘Do you hate Jews?’

‘I don’t take political stances, lady.’

‘She also heard someone say, “Die you kike bitch”.’

‘She misheard.’

‘She heard it twice.’

‘She misheard it twice. Some kids, some Jews, they’ve got a persecution complex. One of us says something innocent and because we’re wearing Nazi symbols, they get confused and bitter. We’re the victims, here.’

‘I think we all know you’re lying, Mr Lukanov. Those symbols are offensive.’

‘HCU will tell you that it ain’t a crime. Pro-Nazi symbols aren’t anti-Semitic in their own right, did you know that?’

‘Is that right?’ asked Denise.

Jack Carney nodded and twisted his mouth.

‘You heard or seen or know anything about Abby’s disappearance?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘You know anything?’