She shoved into the melee, leaving Whitney to Peabody, grabbed a megaphone from some hapless uniform. Bellowed into it.

"Get these people back. Now! I want the barricades up. Three uniforms to each DB, now! You." She grabbed another uniform by the coat sleeve. "Get this area blocked of any vehicular traffic other than official or emergency vehicles."

"But, Lieutenant -"

"Screw the buts. Do it. And you -" She grabbed another screen, all but heaved it at another uniform. "Privacy screens for the DBs. Why the hell are they still out in the open? Contain this crowd, do your goddamn job, and do it now. Peabody!"

"Sir!"

"I want fifty uniforms, asap. I need some fucking crowd control. Tag Morris. I want him on scene."

She snagged a thief by the collar of his oversized overcoat, shook him hard enough to have wallets and bags raining onto the ground. "You motherfucker. Show some respect. Get your ass out of here, or I'll personally see you rotting in a cage for the next twenty."

Maybe it was panic, or maybe he was pissed his payday got cut short, but he took a swing at her. The move surprised her enough for God's sake, the place was swarming with cops he actually glanced his fist off the side of her jaw.

More in fury than pain, she kneed him hard enough in the balls to flatten him, resisted barely kicking him for good measure. "Cuff him, haul his ass in. Now, fuck me, now! Are you cops or morons? Get me any and all security feeds on this area."

She shoved her way toward the body of Officer Kevin Russo, and the clutch of uniforms surrounding it.

"Give me room, move back. Give me his name."

"Officer Kevin Russo." Jacobs fought back tears. "I was with him. He's my partner. I -"

"Stay. The rest of you clear this crowd. Secure the goddamn scene. Backup's coming. Officer?"

"Jacobs. Sheridon Jacobs. We'd just come back from lunch break, sir. We were..." She took a hard breath, tried to steady herself. "We were moving toward a known street thief, and a woman went down his mark went down. Hard and fast. I thought she'd fainted or had a medical issue. Then... it was a kid next. On an airboard. Kevin rushed toward him, shouting for people to take cover, to get down. And he went down, sir. I saw the strike take him, in the head. I I moved to assist, and everything went crazy. I'm sorry, sir, it all went crazy, and I we couldn't control it. There weren't enough of us to control it."

"Which way was he facing?"

"Sir?"

"Pull it together, Jacobs. Which way was your partner facing when he was hit?"

"South, I think, south. It was so fast, Lieutenant, it all happened so fast. People dropping, people running, screaming, knocking each other over, trampling on them, on the bodies. I called for assistance, but it was a stampede."

"Okay. Stand by." Eve started to call for her field kit when Peabody pushed it into her hand.

"Dallas," Peabody said, gesturing.

Looking up, looking out, Eve saw that she was on every jumbo screen, coat flapping in the wind, face grim. The news ticker under her larger-than-life image, along with the dead cop at her feet, on the screen of One Times Square read: LIEUTENANT EVE DALLAS, ON SCENE AT TIMES SQUARE MASSACRE.

"For fuck's sake, kill that feed. Kill it!"

"I'm dealing with it." Whitney, his 'link at his ear, stared at the screens. "Do what you need to do. I'm dealing with it."

"He's ID'd by his partner," she told Peabody. "COD is pretty damn obvious. Get TOD. Make sure he gets a privacy curtain."

With her kit in hand, she crouched by the teenager Officer Kevin Russo had tried to shield.

She knew at a glance he was no more than seventeen, and would never see eighteen.

"Victim is mixed-race male, ID'd as Nathaniel Foster Jarvits, age seventeen. Today. Happy goddamn birthday. TOD, thirteen-twenty-one. ME will determine COD, but on-scene observation indicates laser strike, mid-back. Nearly the same hit as Ellissa Wyman." She paused. "Peabody, call the parents."

"Dallas, TOD on Officer Russo is thirteen-twenty-one as well."

Eve looked up, infuriated to see her own face still flashing on all the screens. No more respect than the street thief, she thought, then rose and moved to the next.

She didn't look up at the screens again, didn't rail that she still had to raise her voice to get her findings on record. Quick glances showed her extra uniforms were swarming in, barricades were going up, and arrests were being made loudly as some refused to move back or to stop their attempts to record the horror.

She'd worked her way to what Jacobs reported was the first victim when Whitney crouched beside her.

"Feed's killed, but we can't stop the media from playing it on bulletins."

"I don't care."

"Your scene is now secured. This victim was with a friend who's been treated for shock, and can be interviewed. The minor was airboarding with five friends. They are all secured for interview. One other victim was unaccompanied at the time of the assault. And we have a survivor."

Her head whipped up. "A survivor?"

"Female. Office worker, but works downtown, doesn't usually come up around here. The strike hit her mid-body, left side. She'd been transported by medicals, is going into surgery. It's fifty-fifty, best."

"That's better odds than the other four. He won't like not making five for five. That'll piss him off. Sir, I need her under 24/7 protection -"

"Already done, Lieutenant. I'm a cop, not a moron."

"Apologies, Commander."

"No need. You pulled this together as quickly as anyone could." He looked back toward the curtained body of their fellow officer. "I don't think his partner's misremembering. Officer Russo gave his life protecting and serving."

"He may have been the target." She kept talking even when Whitney's eyes went hard. "Or the fourth vic, the advertising exec on his way to a lunch meeting. Not the kid at least, it doesn't play right now. The first vic was a tourist. But Officer Russo? He was assigned this beat, he could be expected to be here at this time and place. The exec does work in the area, so maybe. None of the others, Commander. All the others were random hits. It's the cop, that's my lean. The cop who's connected. I'm going to find out why and how. They don't take one of ours and walk away. They don't take some harmless kid on his damn birthday and walk away."

She pushed to her feet. "Commander Whitney, I need to know everything there is to know about Officer Russo personally and on the job. Everything. You could help with that. You could push that forward."

"Consider it pushed." His face stone, he looked toward the privacy curtain again, toward the uniforms ranged around it like an honor guard. "No, they don't take one of ours, not like this, and walk away." He, too, got to his feet. "Whatever you need, manpower, OT, it's yours."

"To start? I don't have time for a media conference."

"I'll cover you."

"I need Mira on tap."

"Done."

"I could use Nadine Furst for media spin, for research."

He hesitated only a moment. "Tread carefully, but do what you feel needs doing. You'd be wise to coordinate with Kyung."

She nodded, and thought: Not an asshole. "Roarke. If he's available."

"Without question, and with appreciation from the department."

"Commander, if I'm on track, and Officer Russo or one of the other victims is connected to Michaelson because it damn well has to be Michaelson, someway, somehow this isn't over. It can't just be two. It's some sort of mission, and their connection will connect with someone else. Someone will know one of the shooters. Someone will recognize them. I need Yancy's sketches four-walled. You can push it out everywhere."

"Believe me, when we have those faces?" He once again glanced up at the jumbo screens, now unprecedentedly blank. "They'll be everywhere."

"They might dive into a hole once that happens. But the hole won't be deep enough." She looked around at the four bodies, curtained now from the gawkers. "I swear it won't be deep enough. Excuse me, sir, Morris is here. I need to speak with him."

As she walked away, Whitney stepped over to the fallen officer, pulled off the NYPSD lapel pin he wore, and laid it reverently on the shielded body.

7.

M.

orris's topcoat flapped as he stood over the body of the first victim. He pulled a can of Seal-It out of his own field kit, lifting his gaze to Eve as he coated his ungloved hands.

"I'll take them in order. Do you know if this is how and where she fell?"

"The bodies and the scene have been compromised." She stopped, shook her head. "Compromised, hell. They're FUBAR. I've called for any and all security feeds so we can reconstruct. The crowd panicked, and some, including at least some of the DBs, were trampled."

"An attack here?" He pulled gauges out of his kit. "We're lucky it isn't worse."

At the moment, Eve didn't want to think about worse. "ID'd as Fern Addison, age eighty-six. She was hit first, then the boy Nathaniel Jarvits, age seventeen; then Officer Russo; then the male, David Chang, age thirty-nine. Another was hit, but survived so far she's in surgery.

"Four out of five then," Morris murmured, kneeling down by the body. "You've done your on-site on her?"

"Yes, all of them. We have TOD on all of them. You can verify."

"In this case, I will. It's best to be thorough." He arranged his gauges, engaged his recorder, and began. "Mid-body, deadly force. TOD thirteen-twenty-one. I can tell you more once I have her in my house. From this cursory examination, I'd say she was gone before she hit the ground."

He signaled to the morgue team. "They can be bagged, tagged, transported as we go."

Rising, he moved to the second victim. "Seventeen, you said."

"Yeah, seventeen. Today."

"Ah, Christ, life can be so cruel. Parents?"

"Yes, and a sibling. He was airboarding with friends, took the strike in the back, and similar to Ellissa Wyman the force and his own momentum propelled him forward into a group of pedestrians. Minor injuries, treated or being treated on scene."

"Mid-back, again from this on-site, similar to Ellissa Wyman."

Still he verified TOD.

"According to his partner, Officer Russo attempted to shield the boy, shouted for people to take cover. He was struck seconds later at least according to my TOD results, he died seconds after the boy."

Once again Morris looked up, looked around. "You've contained this area quickly."

"Not quickly enough." She crouched beside him, decided she didn't give a rat's ass about the official record. "They had me and the victims on the goddamn jumbo screens. This kid's mother or father? They may see that replayed before we can notify them. I had to give that to Peabody."

Understanding, he touched her hand briefly, then rose to go to the fallen officer.

"He's young, too."

"Twenty-three."

"Head strike, mid-forehead. Do you suspect the shooter was showing off, as he was with the third victim at the rink?"

"I suspect the shooter knew Officer Russo would be wearing body armor as is procedure. He might have injured Russo with a body shot, but he wouldn't have taken him out. The goal was to take him out. You'll see the fourth victim was another body shot, and my information is the survivor was struck mid-body, but to the left. A few inches right, and she'd be lying here with the other four. She still may come to you."

"All victims are equal in my house, but..." Morris verified TOD.

"You kill a cop, it changes everything," Eve finished. "This shooter has to know that. There was a choice here, this was deliberate. He targeted a cop and it may be he targeted this specific cop."

"Yet didn't stop there, but took another, and sent a fifth to surgery."

"I think -" She broke off as she heard the shouts, the hysteria. She saw a woman struggling with a pair of uniforms at the barricade, weeping, fighting, screaming a single name over and over.

Nate. Nathaniel Jarvits the second victim.

"His mother," Morris said. "Would you like me to -"

"No, I've got it. Finish here, get the victims transported as soon as you can."

She rose, walked quickly.

Not even wearing a coat, Eve noted. The mother had run out of wherever she'd been in her street clothes.

"Mrs. Jarvits. Mrs. Jarvits! Look at me, look here. I'm Lieutenant Dallas."

"Nate. Nate. Where's my baby?"

"Mrs. Jarvits, I need you to come with me." Where the hell was she going to take her in this mess? As she considered her best options, Eve started to take off her coat, but Whitney moved more quickly.

"Mrs. Jarvits." He wrapped his own coat around her. "I'm Commander Whitney. Come with me now. Coffee shop." He gestured. "I've had it cleared. I'll take Mrs. Jarvits."