“Good idea,” Senza said.

When I got demoted four months ago, Abe took over the job of setting all of our schedules. He determined who caught what cases. And with only four detectives in homicide, we’d be working sixteen-hour days after an event like this one. That would be even harder with me about to go on leave because of the shooting.

“Well,” Abe said. “F.I.U.’s not gonna want P.T. working at all right now. But I don’t know how we cover this if he doesn’t. What’s your thoughts, boss?”

I looked to the chief. Surprised that the idea of me going back to work was even a consideration.

“You want time off?” Senza asked me.

I held my right hand down to keep it from shaking. “I can work,” I said.

“I was guessing you’d say that,” Abe answered.

He motioned around us. “But you can’t be walking around here after taking that shot, P.T. So I propose Remy and Merle stay on-site. Interview kids and teachers the next couple days. Go through the art room. Track how this guy navigated the campus.”

“And us?” I said to Abe.

“P.T. and I will find out where this Harrington guy came from. What he does for a living. Family. Relatives. Military experience. How and why he got here today.”

Abe looked at the four of us and then around at the mess of ambulances and uniforms.

“You need more bodies?” Senza asked him.

“It’d be great to pull one guy from patrol right away,” Abe said. “Help round up witnesses.”

“What about Gattling?” Remy asked.

Darren Gattling was a patrolman I’d mentored years ago, the one whose shotgun I’d borrowed. He was smart and mature, good with people.

“I’ll talk to patrol about him,” Senza said. “I’ll also get two detectives from robbery to help starting tomorrow.” The boss looked at me and Remy. “But you two are in charge of all the additionals. Abe’s got enough on his plate.”

Cornell Fuller arrived, and all conversation stopped.

He stared at me, frustrated that I wasn’t sitting by myself.

“Staffing discussion,” Abe said by way of explanation.

Fuller turned to Senza, incredulous.

“Chief,” Fuller said, “you’re not thinking of having Marsh work right now, are you? He just killed a man. He should be on paid administrative leave.”

Senza glared at Big Bird. “He didn’t kill a man, Fuller. He killed a killer.”

“Chief,” Fuller pleaded.

“We got this shooting, Fuller. And two straggler cases. And I got four detectives in homicide. So if you got budget for another man burning a hole in your pocket—please, let me know.”

Big Bird looked stumped, and the chief looked from him to me.

“I gotta talk to the media in fifteen minutes,” Senza said. He pointed at me and Bird. “I advise that you two chat fast—and then P.T. leaves with Abe.”

Fuller nodded begrudgingly, and Abe said he’d wait for me in the car.

I walked with Big Bird around to the window outside the back lawn, where I studied the hole the bullet made.