Devlin headed straight down Forty-seventh Street to Fiftieth Avenue. From there it was only three short blocks to Liz’s place. He wasn’t blaming himself for having stirred up the DiBennedetti family. The old man had given himself away with his remark about Devlin being in enough trouble. And if his son and nephew were upset with Devlin, why weren’t they going after him? Now, after Major’s death? They didn’t know he had witnessed it—that was it. Of course. They hadn’t understood the meaning of Major’s trip out of the restaurant and back again. Devlin wasn’t sure he could identify the one man in the car he saw clearly, the driver. He’d seen only the shooter’s profile as he turned to point the gun through the driver’s door.

He was still two blocks from Liz’s house when he realized he was seeing something.… What? It was like stepping into one of those what’s-wrong-with-this-picture? puzzles. There was another double-parked car outside Liz’s building.… No, not another car, Devlin realized, the same car! The same rental sedan that had been double-parked outside his own place. Had somebody seen Liz at his place? Somebody?

“Liz!”

He ran. Someone had followed her from his place! If he yelled again, would she hear him? “Liz!” Beyond the vestibule, the door to the inner hall was locked. Devlin pressed Liz’s button. No answer. He went outside again to see if her lights were on. Yes. Now, as he approached the front door of the building, it opened. Devlin was six feet from the man coming out. It was Lederer, and he was wet from his hands to the elbows with blood.

“You!”