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KEVIN DOYLE HAD left the rented Kia parked a couple of blocks away. He was in Queens, following up on the instructions he’d received. He’d already watched the lead detective, Michael Bennett, and seen his fancy apartment building on the Upper West Side. He was curious how an NYPD detective could afford to live in such a nice building. More importantly, the building had excellent security and a doorman.

He also knew that Bennett had ten kids. That was old-school Catholic as far as Doyle was concerned. He knew several Catholic families from his parents’ generation who had eight or more children. But you didn’t see it much nowadays. Bennett’s children were another roadblock. There was no way Doyle was gonna risk harming a child for his job. Hell, he didn’t even want to do anything to Bennett. But if people were getting nervous that Bennett was too close to the truth, Doyle wouldn’t have a choice. He liked to think that he was in control, but there was always someone else pulling the strings. He had decided a long time ago that if someone was going to be in charge, at least he was going to make some money at it. He didn’t mind the government work he’d contracted over the years. But compared to some of the private jobs he had done, it was like working for a charity.

He looked again at the information sheet he’d been given. He’d been watching the apartment building where Bennett’s partner, Rob Trilling, lived. During the afternoon, he hadn’t noticed anything unusual, except that there were several young women who all looked alike coming and going from the building. All of them were about the same size and age, and they all dressed similarly and had dark hair, brushed straight down their backs to just over their shoulders. Curious. But probably not even related to his target.

Doyle had been lucky to see Trilling walk into the building. He seemed almost too young to be both an Army veteran and a detective. He was about six feet tall and very lean. Doyle had stayed at his position on the corner, sitting on a bench in a small park that bordered the street, and glancing over his right shoulder occasionally to look at the apartment. A young mother was watching two small boys kick a ball over the little patch of grass. It made him nostalgic for his own childhood in Brooklyn. He and his siblings spending a whole afternoon with nothing but a ball. They’d make up games and be so tired by the end of the day that they’d fall into bed with their clothes on.

About forty minutes after Trilling had arrived home, Doyle was surprised to see a young woman get out of a sedan with an Uber sign in the front window. She was stunning, with long, flowing dark hair. Doyle thought she seemed familiar. When he looked back at Bennett’s information sheet with pictures of his children embedded in the document, Doyle recognized the visitor as Bennett’s oldest daughter, Juliana.

She had to be going to Trilling’s apartment. It was too much of a coincidence that she would show up here otherwise. Doyle took a moment to wonder whether the senior detective knew that his daughter and his young partner had a thing going on.

As Doyle looked over his shoulder, watching Juliana Bennett walk into the building, he felt something on his leg and jumped. Too many years in the military and combat zones had eliminated any chance he had to seem calm when something like that hap-pened.

As soon as he turned, he realized one of the boys had kicked the ball across the small park, hitting his leg. Doyle reached down and held the ball out to the little blond boy. The boy only approached when his mother and brother came with him.

Doyle said, “That was a good kick.”

The little boy smiled and looked back at his mother.

She had an Eastern European accent. “I’m sorry we disturbed you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. I like to see kids outside playing.”

The young woman thanked him, and the boys ran off with the ball.

As Doyle watched them leave, he thought, I bet she wouldn’t ask me to kill one of her relatives.

Then he focused his attention back on his potential target’s building.