What is it now? Martin thought. Did Barclay go through my contacts and carve up one of my exes?

"Are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," he said, vaguely annoyed. Sheila watched him with concern. "What's the news, Detective?"

"Foot patrol found your agent's burned-out Porsche under the Williamsburg Bridge late last night—"

He gripped the wheel firmly, as if to keep himself from falling. It felt as though the seat had dropped out from under him, like a death-defying carnival ride.

"Not Qurban."

Sheila's concern deepened. She put a hand on his, still gripping the wheel, and squeezed.

"Afraid it's looking likely. Remains were found in the trunk. The coroner is still trying to get a DNA match but Mr. Youssef's wife reported him missing the other day. It's likely the remains were his. Which means Barclay is still very much alive and at large. Mr. Youssef wasn't informed of your whereabouts, so that's a plus."

Martin swallowed hard. "Yeah, I guess there's that." His favorite fucking agent, dead. The family would be devastated. He needed to send flowers, condolences. He couldn't attend the funeral, not unless they managed to catch Barclay before then.

God, Qurban... but how?

A trail of blood between us, Marty.

Helen Birch lumbered past on the passenger side and he watched her until she disappeared from sight in the rearview mirror, feeling vaguely uneasy, hoping the old woman hadn't seen him.

"Fortunately, he didn't approach Mr. Youssef at his home," Lumsden said. "This is a tragedy, Martin, no doubt of that. But it could have been a lot messier if Barclay had gotten the family involved."

"Thank you, Detective. I hope you're keeping an eye on them better than you did me."

The audio in the background muffled as though Lumsden had put his hand over the phone. Probably to curse Martin out to his partner.

"You can count on it, Martin," the detective said with a slight edge of aggravation. "We've had an officer watching them since the car was linked to Mr. Youssef."

"That's good to hear."

"And Martin, if he somehow finds you, don't be a goddamn hero. All right? Call me ASAP. The last thing we need is another dead body on our hands. His or yours."

Martin thought about the weapon in the glovebox, the one Lumsden had allowed him to keep, either intentionally or not, despite the fact that he didn't have a license for it.

The trail of blood was edging closer. How much longer until it led Barclay right to Ruby Savage's door?

"If I see him, you'll be first to know."

"Good. Stay put, stay cool and stay safe, you hear?"

"You too."

Lumsden chuckled. "Me? I'm cool as coconut water. Hopefully I'll have some good news for you soon. Is Ms. Tanner there with you?"

"I'm here," Sheila said. She reminded him yet again to call her Sheila.

"You take care, Sheila. And take care of your man."

She popped her eyes at Martin. "Thank you, Detective. I will."