He still looked unsure. “Should we not . . . ? You know. Check if there’s even something there, before we get the Guards out?”

Surprisingly enough, that very option had already occurred to me. It was taking every ounce of willpower I had not to haul up that slab, with my fingernails if necessary. I managed not to bite his head off. “Evidence,” I said. “The techs have the equipment to collect it properly, and we don’t. The last thing they need is us fucking things up. That’s assuming there’s anything in there.”

Kevin shifted his weight to examine the seat of his trousers; the steps were wet, and he was still wearing his good work clothes from the day before. He said, “You sounded pretty definite on the phone.”

“I wanted them down here. Today, not sometime next week when they were in the mood for an afternoon out.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kev’s sideways glance at me, bewildered and a little wary. After that he stayed quiet, flicking dust and cobwebs off his trousers, head down, which suited me fine. Patience comes with the job and I’m generally considered to have a gift for it, but after what felt like a week I was considering taking a trip over to the Bureau and dragging the tech away from World of Warcraft by his stunted little gonads.

Shay came out onto the front steps, picking his teeth, and sauntered over to us. “Story?” he inquired.

Kevin started to say something, but I cut him off. “Not much.”

“I saw you go into Cullens’.”

“You probably did.”

Shay glanced up and down the road; I saw the door of Number 16, still swinging half open, catch his eye. “Waiting for something?”

“Stick around,” I said, grinning up at him and patting the step beside me. “Maybe you’ll find out.”

Shay snorted, but after a moment he headed up the steps and sat at the top, with his feet in my face. “Ma’s looking for you,” he told Kevin. Kevin groaned; Shay laughed and flipped up his collar against the cold.

That was when I heard tires on cobblestones, up around the corner. I lit another smoke and slumped down on the steps, going for anonymous and vaguely disreputable—Shay was sweet enough to help me out with that, just by being there. As it turned out, there was no need: two uniforms in a patrol car and three Bureau boys jumping out of their van, and I didn’t know any of them. “Jaysus,” Kevin said, softly and uneasily. “There’s loads of them. Are there always . . . ?”

“This is about the minimum. They might call more in later, depending.” Shay let out a long, mock-impressed whistle.