Weber cocked a thumb toward the other side of the lot, where an ambulance was idling, the vehicle surrounded by squad cars and cops. “He’s a fast talker, that one.” My eyes followed where he pointed. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel his ominous presence. “He says you shot him, tried to kill him.”

“Yep.” I took another sip from the thermos, and then shivered inside the dead man’s blanket. “Where’s Marta?”

Weber grinned. “Back at the district. Guess who talked?”

I glanced up, hopeful. “Nada?”

“Pena cracked her like an egg,” Ben said. “Apparently, she’s got more to answer for besides this, most of it over in Europe, where prison living isn’t so good. She decided to cut a deal and take her chances here. She’s got names, dates, contacts, everything. She’ll go down for the nurse, but she’s all right taking Spada or Horvat, or whatever the hell his name is, with her.”

“Who is she, really?” I asked, my teeth chattering.

“Her real name’s still up in the air. She’s got a ton of aliases. We tracked her as far as Croatia, if you can believe it. She says our guy’s Croatian, too. Guess they lost their accents somewhere between there and here, wherever there is. Looks like they’re a couple of heavy hitters from the old country, real badass criminal types. Spada sets up this business angle, using the fake name, figures he’s gonna need some hard-core help getting it done and he tags Nada. He hid her out as his housekeeper until he needed her. She was also sleeping with the guy right under the wife’s nose.”

Weber shook his head. “Real winners. After Symonds, she was gunning for you . . . and the kid. They needed to clean things up.”

Ben stared at me, with meaning in the look. “Guess you got lucky and nailed them first.”

He was still a little angry, I could tell. I peered up at him, thinking about how much damage I’d done. “We should talk,” I said. “Really talk.”

He slid his hands into his pockets, looked away. “Yeah, sure. Dry out first.”

I glanced toward the ambulance. “Tim somehow figured out what they were doing. He came across that clipping and recognized Darby. I don’t know how he stumbled onto the fact that there were others, like Langham, but somehow he did, and Darby got wind of it. It would have been over for him after that.”

“He should have let us sort it out,” Ben said.

I frowned. “He had one grainy photograph. He wouldn’t have gotten far, and you know it.” I stood, handed the hot chocolate to Weber. “I need paper and a pen.”

The two stared at me. “What for?” Weber asked, reaching into his pocket, handing over both.