Pressed against the wall, Chino also heard the siren, and the shrill sound released him from the agony of the moment. He sprang forward and pushed Maria aside and ran downstairs to the flat, because he had work to do.

Not that ’Nardo or any of the Sharks had given him orders, but all of them would be looking for Tony Wyzek, and he—Chino Martin—had the most reason for finding him. And because ’Nardo had thought of him as a brother-in-law, ’Nardo had told him where he kept the gun. Chino reached behind the bathtub and felt the hard, compact package that Bernardo had concealed, and fear left him and he knew from this moment on he was an unfeeling extension of the trigger.

He unwrapped the gun and broke it to make certain it was loaded. The gun thrust into his pocket, Chino turned and pushed past a dazed Maria, who had just entered the apartment.

Now, he could see, she believed him, but there was no time for explanations, no time for anything but to find Tony Wyzek and kill him.

For a moment Maria thought of running after Chino, then she crossed the kitchen to kneel before the figures of the Holy Family, and looking directly at the Mother, she rocked in silent agony and prayer. She began to pray aloud in Spanish, attempting to remember every prayer she had ever heard or learned.

“Make it not be true,” she pleaded. “I will do anything. Make me die. Only please—make it not be true.”

Her prayers were interrupted by firm strong hands on her elbows, hands that wanted her to stand. It could not be, but she saw him and knew it was Tony, and he was no longer young. His eyes were old, sunk deep in his head, and his mouth twitched, as he breathed in deep, racking spasms.

Maria’s hand struck him once, again, and again as she began to beat him with more violence than she had shown Chino. He made no effort to defend himself as her fists beat against his face. “Killer!” she wailed and moaned wildly, without stopping, “Killer killer killer killer—”

Suddenly she fell forward into Tony’s arms, and together they slumped to the floor. Wet cheek pressed against his, she attempted to kiss away his tears, before she cradled him in her arms, where Tony wept with the anguish of the doomed.

“I tried to stop it. I did try,” he cried brokenly. “I don’t know how it went wrong. I didn’t meant to hurt him. I swear it. I swear it. I didn’t want to. But Riff—Riff was like my brother. So when Bernardo killed him…”

“God save them,” she whispered.

Tony pulled Maria into his arms, began kissing her eyes, her cheeks, her hair, as he continued to pour out his grief.

“I had to tell you,” he said. “I had to ask your forgiveness before I went to the police.”

“No,” she whispered. “No.”

“It’s easy now,” Tony said. “I’m not afraid.”