Standing next to them was a tiny perfect doll of a girl. She was beautiful enough to catch the breath in a man’s chest, a golden blonde with dark blue eyes glittering with unshed tears … and maybe eighteen inches tall if she stretched. How the hell did they ever? Franny cut off that line of thought with a mental knife.

“Are you the police officer who was with our son in … in Kazakhstan?” the woman asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Francis Black.”

“Could we talk with you? We’d like to hear…” Her voice faded away.

The jokers, displaying that uncanny sensitivity that seemed to be a hallmark of all of them, moved away.

Franny led the couple and the tiny girl over to a corner near the wrought-iron stand of prayer candles. The flickering flames brought sections of their faces into momentary sharp relief, a jigsaw puzzle picture of grief.

“Did he die a good death?” Bill Norwood’s voice grated like metal dragged across rock.

The question would have taken Franny aback if during conversations with Jamal while they had waited for a suspect to show up he hadn’t learned that Big Bill Norwood had been a football coach. In fact his son’s coach. It was the kind of tough, show-no-pain response Franny would have gotten from his maternal uncle who coached his hockey team up in Saratoga.

“I don’t know that any death is good, sir,” Franny replied. “He died brave, if that’s what you mean. His actions saved a lot of people.” He gestured toward the nave of the church. “A lot of them are here tonight. Reunited with their families because of your son.”

Maxine Norwood and the tiny joker girl Julia were quietly crying. Julia fluttered over to him, her feet scarcely seeming to touch the ground. “Jamal was sick. Why the heck did he go?”

“Jamal was a law enforcement officer. He knew his duty and he did it.” Franny swallowed hard. “I am sorry for your loss,” he said formally. The recommended course for grief calls was to leave it at that, but he felt he couldn’t. This death had been personal for him, too. “I didn’t know Jamal long, but we became friends. I’m grieving for him, too.”

Maxine gave him a quick hug, and Bill gave him a buffet on the shoulder. Julia hugged him around the waist. He accepted the comfort offered by this physical contact. He needed it after what he’d heard in Baba Yaga’s hospital room.

Franny headed for the door. Bill called after him, “Don’t know what you two did over there, but you seem to have unleashed hell.”

Franny hunched his shoulders, dug his hands into his pockets, and fled.

Friday

FRIDAY

IT WAS A LONG and restless night, ending at first light. The Angel had slept fitfully, and was stiff, sore, and hungry when she awoke.