"I want to see something. Some identification."
They were sitting in the back of a new-smelling Ford. Government issue. Manelli stood outside.
The NYPD detective rubbed his mustache and said, "He's legit."
"I want to see something!" Rune snapped.
Pretty Boy offered her his badge and an ID card.
She looked at the card three times before she actually read everything. His name was Salvatore Pistone.
"Call me Sal. Everybody does."
"You're, like, an FBI agent."
"You just insulted me. I'm a U.S. marshal." He was smiling. But his eyes were oddly cold.
"That's what Haarte said."
"Yeah, I found his fake badge and ID. He's used that identity before. Frosts me how often people don't fucking bother to read ID cards. You had, you woulda seen his was fake."
The medic stopped by the car. "Soak that hand in Betadine solution tonight before you go to bed. Tomorrow see your doctor. You know what Betadine is?"
She had no idea. She nodded yes.
Then, to Manelli, the man said, "Guy's dead."
Sal scoffed. "I shot him three times in the head. What the fuck else would he be?"
"Yeah, well. It's confirmed."
"Who?" Rune asked. "Haarte?"
Sal said, "Yeah. Haarte."
"The woman, she'll be okay?" Manelli asked.
"Hell of a bruise on her back. Don't have a clue how she got that--"
Rune remembered the vase. Wish she'd aimed for Emily's head.
"--but aside from that she'll be fine. The bitch'll definitely see the inside of a courtroom."
Manelli straightened up. "All right, miss, I'm handing you over to the feds. It's their case now. You shoulda listened to me and stayed out--"
"I--"
He held up a finger to his lips, shushing her again. "You shoulda listened." He walked off to his own car. He glanced at her with his close-together eyes but they were expressionless. He got inside, started the engine, and drove off.
Other cars were leaving. More of the nondescript sedans, some city blue-and-white police cars. And the small Emergency Service Unit trucks. The ESU men and women, like soldiers after a battle, were taking off their vests and loading the guns back into their car trunks or the compartments of the trucks.
"Who was he?"
"Samuel Haarte," Sal replied. "Professional hit man."
"I'm so confused."
She watched Sal's face. She decided there was something a little crazy about him. Indoctrinated. Like with the Moonies. She had this love/hate thing with Detective Manelli but she liked him. Sal scared her.