Sellitto took the number and alerted Bo Haumann.

Sachs announced, “I’ll call in from the scene.”

“Hold on,” Rhyme said, glancing at her. “Why don’t you sit this one out. Let Bo handle it.”

“What?”

“They’ll have a full tactical force.”

Rhyme was thinking of the superstition that cops on short time were more likely to get killed or injured than others. Rhyme didn’t believe in superstitions. That didn’t matter. He didn’t want her to go.

Amelia Sachs would be thinking the same thing, perhaps; she was debating, it seemed. Then he saw her looking into the hallway at Pam Willoughby. She turned back to the criminalist. Their eyes met. He gave a faint smile and nodded.

She grabbed her leather jacket and headed for the door.

In a quiet neighborhood in Brooklyn a dozen tactical officers moved slowly along the sidewalk, another six creeping through an alley behind a shabby detached house.

This was a neighborhood of modest houses in small yards, presently filled with Christmas decorations. The minuscule size of the lots had no effect on the owners’ ability to populate the land with as many Santas, reindeer and elves as possible.

Sachs was walking down the sidewalk slowly at the head of the takedown team. She was on the radio with Rhyme. “We’re here,” she said softly.

“What’s the story?”

“We’ve cleared the houses on either side and behind. There’s nobody opposite.” A community vegetable garden was across the street. A ragged scarecrow sat in the middle of the tiny lot. Across his chest was a swirl of graffiti.

“Pretty good site for a takedown. We’re—hold on, Rhyme.” A light had gone on in one of the front rooms. The cops around her stopped and crouched. She whispered, “He’s still here. . . . I’m signing off.”

“Go get him, Sachs.” She heard an unusual determination in his voice. She knew he was upset that the man had escaped. Saving the people at the HUD building and capturing Charlotte were fine. But Rhyme wasn’t happy unless all the perps ended up in cuffs.

But he wasn’t as determined as Amelia Sachs. She wanted to give Rhyme the Watchmaker—as a present to mark their last case together.

She changed radio frequencies and said into her stalk mike, “Detective Five Eight Eight Five to ESU One.”

Bo Haumann, at a staging area a block away, came on the radio. “Go ahead, K.”

“He’s here. Just saw a light go on in the front room.”

“Roger, B Team, you copy?”

These were the officers behind the bungalow. “B Team leader to ESU One. Roger that. We’re—hold on. Okay, he’s upstairs now. Just saw the light go on up there. Looks like the back bedroom.”

“Don’t assume he’s alone,” Sachs said. “There could be somebody else from Charlotte’s outfit with him. Or he might’ve picked up another partner.”

“Roger that, Detective,” Haumann said in his gravelly voice. “S and S, what can you tell us?”