"What the fuck?" she said.

"I'm sorry." His voice was small, like a child apologizing to his mother. "It was... I'm on edge. It was an accident."

Already she was gathering up her things: wiping bourbon from her purse, shaking off her recorder and slipping it into the bag. "No, it's my fault. I should have asked about your moth—"

"She's not—!"

He caught his anger, tried to calm himself down. The young mother with her cell phone and her suckling baby watched him, eyes wide. The hipster bros at the next table looked poised to intervene. All he needed was an accusation of abuse haunting him. He needed to dial this back without looking like a psycho.

"Aunt Norma raised me," he finished, as calmly as he could. "Ruby was a sick woman. And I don't like to talk about that part of my life, if that's okay."

"I can see that." She stood, holding her purse to her chest like a frightened child might hold a stuffed animal. "Let's, uh... let's pick this up at another time, okay? You're obviously under a lot of stress."

"It's Barclay. I'm sorry."

She was already leaving. His hand dripped blood on the table. He grabbed a napkin from the stack and pressed it to the open wounds. It soaked through quickly. He grabbed the whole stack and held it there, focusing on the pain screaming up his wrist and down to the tips of his fingers. He'd have a pretty good scar there soon, one to match the old pale scar on his left hand.

A fucking stigmata, he thought.

"Hey, nice arm there, killer," one of the bros at the next table said.

The guy couldn't have known who he was, just picked a random word and happened to land on his trigger. Either way, Martin wasn't about to pick a fight against three bearded gym rats. Not after he'd already scared Izzie Medina half to death. Not with Officer Tanaka sitting half a block away.

"Fuck you, pal."

The muscular guy in his too small V-neck T-shirt threw up his hands in mock surrender and he and his bros laughed uproariously, cheersing their microbrews.

At the bar he discovered Izzie Medina had paid for her own bourbon. He apologized to the server and stepped out onto the street. On his way to the lot, he stopped by the cruiser. Tanaka zipped down the side window.

"Everything all right, Mr. Savage?"

"Everything's fine. Just had a little accident."

"Cut yourself pretty good. You should probably get that looked at. Might need stitches."

"I'll be fine."

Tanaka nodded. "Heading home then?"

"Got a stop to make first, Officer, if that's okay."

"Hey, I get paid whether I'm sitting here or sitting somewhere else."

"Great. Then I'll see you on my six."

Tanaka chuckled. "Ten-four."

Martin pulled the Lexus out of the lot and headed for Hell's Kitchen, dialing Qurban Youssef on the way.