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her former self because Harris was right; as far as her daughter was concerned, this was a complete fucking disaster. McNulty couldn’t look his sister in the eye. The night was dark outside but nowhere near as dark as what was going on inside McNulty’s head.

Firing the blanks had served as a distraction and a flare. Blanks won’t kill you but fired close enough the discharge can cause serious burns and damage, especially if aimed at the face. The flash scorched one eye and down the side of the gunman’s face but more importantly it slammed the door shut on how much time DeVries had to punish McNulty.

The blue lights started flashing again immediately and the calls for backup went out loud and fast. McNulty dived for cover as the gunman fired blindly. Jerry Solomon stayed low, the safest place to hide. DeVries guided the gunmen and the girl into the back room, after which nobody saw them again.

By the time the police had breached the hallway, McNulty was standing in the middle of the courtroom with his hands wide and the movie prop gun dangling by the trigger guard, almost the same as the first time. Same reason. He didn’t want the police getting him mixed up with the shooter. First thing he did once he’d been read his rights was to ask for Jon Harris. The second was to call Susan and give her the bad news.

Tilly was gone.

Now they were all sitting in Susan’s kitchen in the middle of the night, trying to figure out what to do next. Susan was still in denial that Harlan DeVries, the man who had brought her to America, was involved in child pornography and kidnapping. Harris pulled up a chair and sat at the table.

“Play it again.”

(McNulty) “What money?”

(Gunman) “The money we’ve already killed nine people for. One more here or there won’t make any difference.”

(McNulty) “They can only hang you once you mean?”

(Gunman) “They don’t hang you at all anymore.”

(McNulty) “The judge with the hanging baskets might make an exception.”

(Gunman) “The point here being, I think we have proved our willingness to kill in pursuit of our goals. Nine down. One to go.”

(McNulty) “Your math is off. Don’t forget Severino.”

(Gunman) “Severino drowned, he wasn’t shot.”

(McNulty) “You didn’t say shot, you said killed.”

(Gunman) “We pushed him in. River killed him.”

(McNulty) “Is that the collective we? Or you personally?”

(Gunman) “There is no ‘me personally.’ Only the collective.”

(McNulty) “A single unit of three. Disciplined service. Professionals. I get that. Except your collective’s down to two. That’s ten to one. We’re on the comeback trail.”

(Gunman) “Is that the collective we? Or you personally?”

(McNulty) “There is no collective. Only me.”

(Gunman) “You do yourself a disservice. Everyone has a collective.”

(McNulty) “Not me. I’ve been alone since birth.”

(Gunman) “Wrong again. You only thought you were alone. Some collectives are hidden until it’s too late. Like family. It took you a long time to find her, didn’t it? We didn’t take that long.”

(McNulty) “Don’t you touch my sister.”

(Gunman) “Sister?”

A high-pitched voice in the background, sounding scared and weepy.

(Gunman) “Her daughter is very pretty. It would be a shame for her to become number eleven. Meaning you’re not on the comeback trail at all.”

(McNulty) “Go on.”

(Gunman) “You were a cop once, right?”

(McNulty) “More than once.”

(Gunman) “And now you’re a movie cop?”

(McNulty) “I teach movie cops.”

(Gunman) “So you’ve seen the money exchange. You know how this works.”

(McNulty) “You’re not going to do the yellow bag thing out of Dirty Harry? Bounce me all over town from phone booth to phone booth? Then, when you’re sure I’m not being followed, lead me to the drop?”

(Gunman) “Waltham’s too small to bounce you around. And when was the last time you saw a phone booth? But the not being followed part is right.”

(McNulty) “Or she dies.”

(Gunman) “There are worse things than dying. A five-year-old? Lots worse. And plenty of people willing to pay to do it.”

(McNulty) “Go on.”

(Gunman) “No cops.”

(McNulty) “There are cops everywhere.”

(Gunman) “Not where we’re going. Both bags. One in each hand. At the movie courtroom. In an hour.”

McNulty shivered hearing the playback again. Susan was sitting numb in the corner. McNulty didn’t think she even heard it. Harris leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. He drummed his fingers while he considered the voices on the recording, then slapped the table and sat back. “None of that incriminates DeVries.”

McNulty looked at the detective. “I incriminate DeVries.”

“Eyewitness testimony is never as good as physical evidence.”

“Fingerprint the room. He’ll be all over it.”

“It’s his orphanage. Of course he’ll be all over it.”

McNulty pushed his chair back from the table so hard it almost fell over. “So? What are you saying?”

The detective turned calm eyes on McNulty. “I’m saying we’ll need more than your word against the richest man in Waltham if we get this to court.”

McNulty took hope from the calmness that Harris displayed. It showed he was being detached and professional. Detached was the last thing McNulty felt, but he tried to look at this from a police perspective. “Do the forensics. Follow the money. Build a case. You’ll find the links if you look close enough. The gang in the court case. Adoption papers. Fake documents. He can’t hide everything. And after today, I doubt he’ll be hanging around to let you do that.”

He tapped his phone. “You heard the man.” His eyes hardened. “They’ve proved their willingness to kill. The most damning evidence is the evidence that can talk. The girls that Chester Brook brought into the country.” He nodded at his sister. “The innocents.”

Harris shook his head. “You said DeVries had enough legitimate adoptions to build his empire. Not all the innocents are a threat.”

McNulty held a handout, low to indicate height. “The small ones are. The ones the outfit are using now. Find them and you’ve got your evidence.”

Harris leaned back and crossed one leg. “Search teams have cleared Chester Brook. Orphanage; staff helped account for everyone in the dorms. DeVries

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