“He ran off. I could have chased after him, but my head was spinning.”

“It looks like it hurts.”

“It does, but not that bad. My wife hasn’t seen it yet.”

Novack scratched his cheek. “She ain’t gonna be pleased. Matter of fact, if I was her, I’d be thinking that maybe you weren’t being too truthful. That someone attacked you and you’re trying to protect her—or maybe trying to hide something from her. Or maybe hiding something from everybody, including me?”

An admonishing look.

Decker was casual. “If someone was out to get me, Novack, I would have had a bullet in my head.”

Novack thought about that. It was probably true. “We gotta be honest with each other, Pete.”

“Absolutely,” Decker lied.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Novack’s expression was cynical, but he didn’t persist. “So you just come from the Fort Lee Police?”

“From the Bergen County Morgue actually.” Decker chewed the bread slowly, then swallowed. “Do they know what they’re doing?”

“Yeah, Bergen gets its share of bodies from us cause it’s right over the bridge. I’m not saying the park’s a dumping ground—they got the area under constant patrol cause it’s a popular spot—but it’s a big place, and this ain’t the first time a corpse has shown up.”

“Is there interdepartmental cooperation?”

“In the ideal, yeah. Practicality-wise, it depends on who’s leading the investigation.”

“A guy named Martin Fiorelli.”

“I heard the name, but I’ve never worked with him. I haven’t worked all that much with Jersey Police, but I know a couple of people who have. Now I’m not saying this to sound like sour grapes or nothin’ like that. Just that some of those smaller departments have this complex about NYPD comin’ in and takin’ over. And maybe it’s justified, cause we got some pushy people. But that’s still no excuse for not sharing information. Cause it’ll be of real interest to me to see if Ballistics turns up a match, being as it looks like the same M.O.”

Decker said, “The single shot to the head was visible on the ID, but they also got her in the chest.”

“Really. You saw that?”

“No, I skimmed the M.E.’s report at the scene. I wish I had more time to study it, but I was too busy taking care of my brother.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Not too well.” Decker finished the last spoonful of soup. He felt better. “No one’s doing too well.”

“I can imagine. Losin’ a fifteen-year-old period, but especially like that.” Novack shook his head. “I don’t know how long the body’s been sitting there. I’m wondering if maybe she was popped right at the beginning, at the same time Ephraim was taken in.”

“I believe the report said time of death was somewhere between two hours to four hours before they found her.”

“She was fresh, then?”

“Yes.”

“What a shame. No rigor—”

“Not even close,” Decker said. “No discernible lividity.”

Most of the shock had leached from Decker’s system; guilt had taken its place. Why the hell had he trusted that scumbag mother-fucker! Maybe he could get the guy arrested? But on what grounds?