He saw Cheryl some, too. He told Rune about it — Honesty, goddamn honesty — but it seemed that their get-togethers were to discuss the sort of nitty-gritty details appropriate for people on the verge of divorce. Nonetheless, dear Cheryl still hadn't filed papers and once or twice when Rune stayed over at his place he took calls late at night and talked for thirty, forty minutes. She couldn't hear what he said but she sensed that it wasn't Police Central he was talking to.

Adam decided he liked Rune a lot and asked her advice on which rock groups were current and where to get good chic secondhand clothing. (“It's all right, Sam. You don't want him to be a geek, do you?”) The two of them went to a Mets game once after Healy'd bought tickets but couldn't make it because of a travel alarm ticking away in a suitcase in a Port Authority locker. Rune and Adam had a great time; when somebody had tried to pick her up by telling her what a cute brother she had Adam had said, “Don't talk about my mom that way.”

They laughed about the guy's reaction for a good portion of the trip home.

Tonight was Sunday and Sam Healy had stayed the night. He was watching the ball game as Rune looked through the Times working up the courage to actually cook breakfast and wondering how risky it would be to make waffles. She noticed an article, read it, sat up suddenly.

Healy looked at her.

She pointed to the story. “That guy they found in the trunk of the car at La Guardia a couple of days ago?”

“Somebody with the Family?”

“Yeah.”

“What about it?” Healy asked.

“The medical examiner said the autopsy showed he'd been dead for a week.”

Healy turned back to the game. “The Yankees're behind by seven and you're worried about dead hit men.”

“The assistant medical examiner who did the autopsy — his name is Andy Llewellyn.”

But Healy was directing all his attention to help the boys from the Bronx rally back in the eighth.

“I've got a couple errands to run,” Rune said. “You'll be here when I get back?”

He kissed her. “They can do it,” Healy said.

She looked at him.

“The Yankees,” he said.

“I'll keep my fingers crossed,” Rune said sincerely.

Rune went for a long walk and ended up — surprised to find herself there — in Times Square. She walked into the old Nathan's Famous and ordered a Coke and a cardboard carton of crusty French fries, which she covered with sauerkraut and ketchup and mustard and ate as best she could with the little red skewer they give you instead of a fork.