For three years now, he'd been captain in charge of a special homicide unit based at One Police Plaza. Sometimes he got depressed dealing with one killing after another, in a never-ending series, and when you were close to fifty you began to wonder if there was something better to do. He wondered if Blake had really meant what he'd said that there might be room for him in that special intelligence unit of his in Washington…

The door opened and Helen Abruzzi called. 'Show time, Captain.'

The girl in the viewing room was in a bad way, a blanket around her shoulders, her face swollen, one eye black, bruise marks on her neck. Helen stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder, while Parker read the file. He finished, nodded, and she pressed a buzzer. A light flared and five men appeared on the other side. The girl cried out.

'Number three. That's him,' she said and then she broke down.

Compassion didn't come easy at six o'clock in the morning on the East River, but Parker put an arm around her.

'Hey, take a deep breath. I know it isn't easy, but I'll make you a promise. I'm going to take this fuck out.' He squeezed her shoulder and nodded to Abruzzi. 'Take her away, then bring that bastard in.'

He stood at the window, looking down at the water, and after a while the door opened and Helen Abruzzi came in, followed by Paul Moody, cuffed between two police officers.

And who the hell are you?' Moody demanded.

'Captain Harry Parker. Sergeant Abruzzi's got quite a list of charges against you, Moody, beginning with aggravated sexual assault.'