Duncan laughed. “No, no, I’m the one who saved him. After we abandoned the Explorer and were running out of the garage I spotted that homeless guy. I didn’t like the looks of him. He had a club or tire iron or something in his hand. After Vincent and I split up, I went back to the garage to make sure he didn’t hurt anybody. When he started toward you”—Duncan glanced at Pulaski—“I found a wheel cover in the trash and pitched it into the wall so you’d turn around and see him coming.”

The rookie nodded. “That’s what happened. I thought the guy stumbled and made the noise himself. But whatever, I was ready for him when he came at me. And there was a wheel cover nearby.”

“And Vincent?” Duncan continued. “I made sure he never got close enough to any women to hurt them. I’m the one who turned him in. I called nine-one-one and reported him. I can prove it.” He gave details about where and when the rapist was caught—which confirmed that he’d been the one who called the police.

The prosecutor looked like he needed a time-out. He glanced at his notes, then at Duncan, and rubbed his shiny head. His ears were bright red from the cold. “I’ve gotta talk to the district attorney about this one.” He turned to two detectives from Police Plaza who’d met him here. The prosecutor nodded at Duncan and said, “Take him downtown. And keep somebody on him close—remember, he’s diming out crooked cops. People could be gunning for him.”

Duncan was helped to his feet.

Amelia Sachs asked, “Why didn’t you just come to us and tell us what happened? Or make a tape of Baker admitting what he’d done? You could’ve avoided this whole charade.”

Duncan gave a harsh laugh. “And who could I trust? Who could I send a tape to? How did I know who was honest and who was working with Baker? . . . It’s a fact of life, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Corrupt cops.”

Rhyme noticed Sachs gave absolutely no reaction to this comment, as two uniformed officers led their perp, such as he was, to a squad car.

They were, at least temporarily, once again a team.

You and me, Sachs . . .

Lincoln Rhyme’s case had become Amelia Sachs’s and if the Watchmaker had turned out to be toothless there was still a lot of work left to do. The corruption scandal at the 118th house was now “front-burnered,” as Sellitto said (prompting Rhyme’s sardonic comment, “Now there’s a verb you don’t hear every day”). Benjamin Creeley’s and Frank Sarkowski’s killer or killers had yet to be identified specifically from among the cops who were suspected of complicity. And the case against Baker had to be cobbled together and the Maryland connection—and the extortion money—unearthed.

Kathryn Dance volunteered to interview Baker but he was refusing to say a word so the team had to rely on traditional crime scene and investigative work.