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I SAT WITH Rob Trilling and Walter Jackson. The three of us tried to think of ways to find Kevin Doyle. Walter had quietly recruited analysts from other squads to start running his name to see if he was listed in any hotels or had taken any flights into or out of the city recently.

Walter said, “I know we’re supposed to keep this whole investigation on the down-low, but what if we issue a bulletin to every patrol car in the city just to keep an eye out for him?”

I shook my head. “This is a print from a supposed suicide’s apartment. It’s not an official active case. I can just imagine all the questions that would come streaming in from One Police Plaza. We gotta figure out something ourselves. I don’t even want to let Celeste Cantor in on this until we have more. She still doesn’t know that you and Terri are on this too—that was my choice, not hers.”

I noticed Trilling hadn’t said much and kept fiddling around with notes and drawings. I asked him what he was doing.

He was slow to answer, as usual. But this was a different kind of hesitancy. He was forming his thoughts. Finally, my young partner said, “We both agree someone intentionally tried to run down Jaime Nantes yesterday.”

I nodded.

“That means Nantes would still be on the hit man’s list.”

Again I nodded.

“Maybe he’ll try again. Nantes isn’t any the wiser. He walks down to eat about the same time at the same place every day.”

“You want to do more surveillance on that little bodega when Nantes is eating and hope we see this guy Kevin Doyle?”

“You boiled my idea down to one clear sentence.”

“You don’t think it would be risky, showing up there again, after we were carted away in cuffs?”

“If you’re asking me if it’ll work, I’m skeptical. If you have a better idea or something else we need to work on, I’ll do that. Absent either of those options, I say we head up to the Bronx. I wouldn’t mind one of their empanadas anyway.” He gave me a look that made me smile.

“Now you’re starting to sound like a veteran NYPD officer. Never be cold, never get wet, and never go hungry.”

Trilling said, “I prefer the slogan We always get our man . Either way, I think we should go to the Bronx.”

Walter said, “I’ll keep working on this guy’s background. I’ll call you if I can find anything worthwhile.”

My phone vibrated with a text from Terri Hernandez. I read it, then mumbled, “Damn.” When Trilling and Walter looked at me, I said, “Terri’s tied up at a homicide scene in the Bronx near the zoo. She’s going to be stuck there for quite a while.” Then I muttered, “Shit, we could’ve used her help given how well that gang now knows our faces.”

Trilling said, “You and I should be able to handle it.”

I said, “What if Jaime Nantes or one of the other gang members sees us? They think we’re dead.”

“True. But we don’t have to go in the little restaurant. Guess I’ll skip the empanadas. This won’t screw up the DEA’s case at all. Our surveillance will be at either end of that street. Exactly where someone looking to run down Nantes would park.”

Walter slowly nodded. “Rob’s right. It’s a bit of a long shot, but it might work.”

Trilling clapped his hands together and said to me, “What do you think?”

I was already gathering what I needed to go.