"Yes," Aideen replied. The killer had reminded her of a Striker, though of course she couldn't say that. "Where I went to college there was ROTC," she lied. "Reserve Officers' Training Corps. The killer had the bearing of a soldier. Or at least someone who was skilled in handling firearms."

The inspector made an entry in his notebook. "Did the gunman say anything to you?"

"No."

"Did he shout anything-a slogan or a threat?"

"No."

"Did you notice the kind of weapon he used?"

"I'm sorry, I did not. It was a handgun of some kind."

"A revolver?"

"I wouldn't know," she lied. It was an automatic. But she didn't want the inspector to know that she knew enough to tell the difference.

"Did he pause between shots?"

"I believe so."

"Was it loud?"

"Not very," Aideen said. "It was surprisingly quiet." The gun had been silenced but she didn't want to let him know that she knew that.

"It was probably silenced," the inspector said. "Did you see the getaway car?"

"Yes," Aideen said. "It was a black sedan. I don't know what kind."

"Was it clean or dirty?"

"Average."

"Where did it come from?" the inspector asked.

"I believe it was waiting for the killer down the street," Aideen said.

"About how far?"

"Maybe twenty or thirty yards," Aideen said. "It seemed to creep up along the curb a few seconds before the man opened fire."

"Did any of the shots come from the car?"

"I don't think so," she replied. "The only flashes I saw came from the one gun."

"You were behind the other victim, the postman, for part of the attack. You were very conscientiously attending to his wound. You might have missed a second gunman."

"I don't think so," she said. "I was only behind him at the very end. Tell me-how is the gentleman? Will he recover?"

"Sadly, seńorita, he has died."

Aideen glanced down. "I'm sorry."

"You did everything you could to help him," the inspector said. "There is nothing you should regret."

"Nothing," she muttered, "except moving in that direction. Did he have a family?"

"Sí," said the inspector. "Seńor Suarez supported a wife, a baby son, and a mother."

Aideen felt her temples grow tight as fresh tears formed behind her eyes. Not only had she failed to do anything to help Martha, but her instincts to draw the gunman's fire had cost an innocent man his life. In retrospect, she should have jumped toward Martha. Maybe she could have put her body between the gunman and Martha or tried to pull the wounded woman behind the goddamn sentry booth. She should have done anything but what she'd done.

"Would you like a glass of water?" the inspector asked.

"Thank you, no. I'm all right."

The inspector nodded. He paced for a moment, staring at the floor, before looking back at Aideen. "Seńorita," he said, "do you believe that you and your companion were the gunman's targets?"