“I can’t buy that,” Decker said. “Margie, he’s seen it all—arms and legs and shit blasted all over the place, moaning lumps that used to be people. Some guys got off on torturing anything with slanted eyes. Blood lust or they just went nuts. Not Abel…not Abel.”

Decker covered his mouth, felt himself breathing through his hands.

“You all right?” Marge said.

“Yeah,” Decker said quietly. He wiped his forehead with his jacket sleeve. “Logic tells me that a true rape-o would leave as soon as he was done and worry about cleaning the knife another time. And consider this. His prints were found elsewhere—all over the apartment, as a matter of fact. But not on the weapon.”

Marge said, “Maybe he intended to wipe the apartment clean, but she stopped him by clobbering him with the lamp.”

“Yeah, that’s another thing. The gal’s dripping blood and has a collapsed lung, but she has enough strength to hit him with a lamp. And what’s he doing while she’s crawling on the floor and retrieving a lamp?”

“In the john?”

“She didn’t bong him as he exited the john. If I were him, I would have noticed her and stopped her.”

“He was too busy cleaning the shiv to notice.”

“Which brings us back to the first point, do you calmly clean your weapon after all this commotion took place?”

“Maybe he had her terrified.”

“Not too terrified. She bopped him with a lamp.” Decker thought a moment. “I wonder who called the incident in?”

“The PR would be on the tape. Look up the incident number and give Hollywood a call.”

Decker read further. He said, “There are gross inconsistencies here—the clean shiv, the statement of the whore, the time frame…. Hey, we’ve got a bloody footprint lifted from the kitchen floor that didn’t match the shoe Abel was wearing. It was a size-nine left-foot, rubber-sole number.”

“Maybe he changed shoes.”

“Marge…”

“It’s possible.”

“Abel doesn’t have a left foot,” Decker said. “And he rarely wears a shoe on his prosthesis. Someone else was in the room.”

She didn’t answer.

Decker said, “Sixty-forty a good lawyer could get him off right now, without any further investigation.”

“Is that what you want?” Marge asked.

“No. What I want is to find the mother who did this and clear Abel’s name altogether. But that may not be possible.” Decker checked his watch, then locked the file in his desk. “I’ll go over it later. Gotta go to court now.”

His phone rang.

“Sergeant Decker? It’s Ms. Rawlings.”

“Hello, Ms. Rawlings,” Decker said. “How’s my baby Sally?”

“Fine, Sergeant. I just want to tell you that I’m taking her to the doctor’s this afternoon. Would you like to come pick up the report around four o’clock?”