“All I can say is, we’ll find out what’s going on together. I’m sure we’re in good hands,” I say, trying to reassure them, with no visible success.

Soon one of the police officers pushes through the front door and holds it open for the medics.

And here comes something I haven’t seen since Fallujah, and never wanted to see again. A gurney with a medic on each end moving the victim, this time to the rear of an ambulance, to load it up for transport to the medical examiner’s office.

Esposito and his cameraman are getting it all.

You hear about murders all the time in the news. It’s awful, impossible to imagine, but you give it a thought and then life goes on for the rest of us.

Well, not for me. Not anymore.

The body is motionless, a stiffening corpse. Completely covered with a white canvas sheet. The gurney’s wheels collapse under its frame as the medics slide it against the rear deck and into the ambulance, where it’s locked into place and secured with straps.

The driver closes the back doors. Our eyes meet for an instant before he climbs into the front. I offer a grim salute in appreciation, and he points a forefinger at me to acknowledge it.

The flashing red lights are back on and they head down the street. No need for the sirens anymore.

“Mr. Marterelli, can you come up here for a minute?” It’s Detective Quinn, from the top of the steps.

Paul gestures to me to join him, and I do. Quinn assures us that everything’s under control. We’re allowed access to the agency, but not the roof, which has been cordoned off while they continue to search for evidence.

And—it is somebody from the agency. But who?

Now Paul turns around and faces the crowd; WNBC’s Esposito points his mic at him, and the cameraman next to him is shooting all of it.

“Okay, people, listen up. The police officers have secured the building. It is safe to reenter, and so I’m going to invite my colleagues to return to their workspaces and any area in our office—except the roof, which the police have secured while they continue their search for evidence.

“And hear this, this is important: if any of you, for any reason, are not comfortable coming back in today, I completely understand.

“Just know that we are assured that the killer, or killers, is no longer on the premises.”

A killing. And not just one of those random killings you read about in the New York Post. It’s somebody I know.

Chapter 7

Four more police officers come out through the front door and down the steps, where they gather on the sidewalk and then spread out into the street.

Detectives Quinn and Garrison come back over. Paul and I lean in close.

“In strictest confidence, here’s what we can tell you.” It’s Quinn. “We’ve already acknowledged that the victim is an agency employee, but need to notify the immediate family before we can share further information on that. You guys will figure it out soon enough, I’m sure. But know this—it was no accident. The victim died from a single gunshot to the back of the head, at close range. Likely pre-meditated.