The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that there could be only one reason he’d have newspaper clippings of Elsie Paroubek and Iolanda Vasilescu and her sister, Abriana. Once news broke about the girl she’d found in Hell Gate, he’d add her picture to his wallet as well. She’d been stupid, thinking she could trust him, imagining that the two of them might find a murderer. He wasn’t some harmless weird little man: he was crazy, a chester.

He scared her. She should go back to the Riverview station and warn them—while they were congratulating themselves on locking up Clyde Smithson, this guy was lurking around the Infant Incubators.

She began to walk faster. After a minute, she looked back to see that she’d momentarily lost Henry in the crowd on the Pike. She darted forward, ducked behind the back of an arcade and held her breath, listening; heard the sound of running feet.

Damn. He’d seen her. As she turned to race farther down the alley, someone punched her in the ribs. She collapsed to the ground, clutching her stomach.

“You fucking little sneak.” Ikie stared down at her, his fist raised. “You son of a bitch.”

“Fucking fairy,” Mugsy spat. He glanced around, then slammed his boot into Pin’s side. She cried out, tears filling her eyes.

Mugsy laughed and kicked her again. “Goddamn sissy. What’d I say? He’s a punk.”

Pin tried to gasp out a retort, but her lungs wouldn’t work. She turned onto her side, reaching for the shiv in her pocket.

“Why’d you say that about Clyde?” Ikie’s loathing was tinged with hurt. “You punk.”

“Fairy,” Mugsy repeated. He reached into his pocket for a switchblade knife, clicked it so that the blade sprang out.

Ikie reached for his friend’s arm. “Mugsy, don’t.”

Mugsy elbowed him away. He bent, sweeping the knife down toward Pin’s jaw, and with a grunt went sprawling onto his back. A blue-clad figure sat astride him, hands locked around his throat. Pin pushed herself onto her knees as Mugsy’s face turned purple and Henry stared down at him with impassive eyes.

“Henry,” she croaked, trying to stand. “Henry, stop…”

Like a mastiff grabbing a terrier, Ikie flung Henry aside. He dragged Mugsy to his feet.

“Come on, man!” he cried, and Pin realized Ikie was frightened of Henry. “They’re pansies. We gotta go.” He turned to cast one last glance at Pin.

“How could you?” he asked, and dragged Mugsy down the alley.

Pin staggered to her feet, wiping her eyes as she fought to catch her breath. Ikie, the one person she’d thought of as a friend, thought she was a fairy. He believed she’d betrayed Clyde—she had betrayed him, even if she hadn’t intended to.