“I don’t know.”

“Someone took her—”

“Impossible!”

“No, Chris. Nothing’s impossible!”

Donatti exhaled a plume of sour, booze-laden breath. “She left on her own.” He stubbed out his cigarette and pulled out two water bottles, tossing one to Decker. “Something changed her mind.”

Decker drank greedily. “Any ideas what?”

“No.” Donatti looked at him. “I told you she was unstable. She was even more freaked after she met with you. You probably scared her away.”

“Me?” Decker answered.

“Yeah, you! You freaked her out.”

“Then it was up to you to calm her back down—”

“Fuck you, Decker!”

Neither one spoke as they gulped down water. Decker touched his nose. It was throbbing with pain. “Assuming she left on her own, where could she have gone?”

“I don’t know. There’s no place as safe as mine.” Donatti gritted his teeth. “I can’t imagine why she bolted! It doesn’t make sense. You gotta leave now. I gotta make some calls.”

Decker said, “You want to do me a big favor?”

“No. Get the fuck out of here!”

“Stop being so vile!” Decker finished the smoke and the water. “You want to make some headway, do yourself a favor and stay out of it. At least, for now.”

Donatti jerked his head up. “I think my fist scrambled your brains. Get out of here!” He pulled out a gun. “OUT!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Decker felt his lip. That throbbed, too. “What is that? A Walther double automatic? Twenty-four rounds, right? It’s a nice one.”

Donatti squinted at him, then erupted into laughter. “I’m glad you approve.”

“Put it down, Chris…please.”

“Since you said please.” He placed it on the table and picked up the booze.

“Donatti, let’s think this out logically,” Decker began. “I came to New York as this big-cop lieutenant to help out with a homicide. What happened? I fanned, kiddo. Zilch as far as Lieber’s murder, and now Shayndie’s dead. The local heat have got to be thinking that I’m a bust—this big, dumb lug from hick town L.A. who couldn’t detect his way out of a paper bag.”

He dabbed his face and nose with the wet towel.

“It’s not far from the truth.”

Donatti regarded the lieutenant’s face, then passed him the bottle.

Decker took a drink. “Right now, I’m a washout. No one’s afraid of me. Not the Liebers, not the cops, not you, and not the bastards who whacked Shaynda and Ephraim. I’m a steaming turd, my man. No one wants to get near me. But you… you’re different, Donatti. You’ve got the rep as a real nasty dude. If you start nosing around and the perps get wind of your involvement, they’re going to rabbit. Even worse, if you screw up, you’re dead meat. Me, on the other hand, I screw up, it’s par for the course. For the time being, it’s in both of our best interests to keep you a guarded secret.”

The room was quiet.

Donatti banged his fist on the table, wincing in pain. The gun jumped up and down, landing with the barrel pointed at Decker’s stomach.