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The front door was locked. Cooper found LUCE, VINCENT on the directory and rang the buzzer. No answer.

Well, you could always break the glass with an elbow, then kick in the hallway door. Noisy, though. Or you could—

Ethan Park leaned forward and pressed five call buttons at once. After a moment, a voice said, “Hello?”

Pressing the TALK button, Ethan said, “UPS, got a package for you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way that—”

The buzzer sounded and the door clicked open.

“What’s the point in a lock,” Cooper asked, “if you open it for the first disembodied voice?”

“Manhattan factor. You put a chain and three deadbolts on your apartment, and then start to get lonely. I used to live here, remember? A package isn’t quite a friend coming up, but it’s the next best thing.”

They passed a bank of mailboxes and found the stairs. Halfway up, they were passed by a dude hustling downward, no doubt to meet UPS. The fifth floor was dimly lit and grungily carpeted. One of the doors hung half ajar, the frame splintered.

“Shit.” Cooper motioned Ethan behind him and pushed the door open. The room beyond was typical Manhattan, in that a tall man could have cooked dinner from the futon. The walls were painted tasteful shades, and neatly framed posters of musicians had once hung on the walls. Once.

Now, the floor was covered with broken glass and smashed wood fragments. Stuffing gaped from slashes in the furniture. Shelves had been swept clean, drawers upended, curtains torn. A stand-up piano was lying down; the bow of a violin pierced a lamp shade. Debris crunched beneath Cooper’s feet as he stepped in.

“Oh, man,” Ethan said. “You think Abe did this?”

Cooper spun slowly, putting together the pieces. The shattered dishes, torn curtains, broken mirror. He stepped to the futon and knelt down. The fabric reeked of urine. There was a bloodstain on the pillow, fairly broad but centered in a specific spot, like someone had lain still as they bled. Or been held down.Forced to watch.

“You little shit,” a man said, “we told you not to come—” In the doorway stood a man whose chest bulged beneath a Yankees jersey. Behind him stood two other guys, one with the same bland good looks, the other smaller but thicker. Yankees said, “Who are you?”

Cooper rose. Very consciously, he looked at the destruction, then snapped his eyes up to the man’s face. Caught the quick dart of the eyes, the slight flush, the pulse kicking up, and knew the whole story. He forced himself to smile. “It’s okay.” He showed his badge. “We’re looking for Vincent Luce. You know him?”

“Vincent?” The man scowled. “Thought I did. Heard him playing piano all the time. Weird music, kinda pretty. But it turns out he’s an abnorm. Never said a word about that. Just been living right here without telling anyone.”

“How do you know?”

“Walls are thin. He and some old guy were in here yelling at each other. The old guy said it, and Vincent tried to hush him up. Said it was real important no one find out.”

Cooper nodded, took his d-pad from his pocket, and uncrumpled it with a flick of his wrist. He called up a picture of Abraham Couzen. “This guy?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Okay, listen. I’m not here about a busted door or broken dishes. I mean, we’re all normals here, right?”

Yankees nodded.

“So. You’re a neighbor, and the walls are thin. I figure you probably overheard this going down.”

The man stared at him, smiled slightly. “I got you. Sure.”

“Tell me about the fight.”

Yankees grinned. “Wouldn’t call it a fight.”

“They kicked in Vincent’s door,” Cooper said. “Broke his nose. Held him down while they smashed everything. Then what?”

“We—one of them told him to leave and never come back.”

“You think he did?”

“When it was all done.” Yankees gripped his crotch, mimed a firehose. “He got the message.”

Cooper was overwhelmed by a sudden flash of memory. A bathroom stall, white porcelain stained crimson. His eyes blackened, nose broken, two fingers snapped, spleen ruptured. Twelve years old, back in California, one of his father’s military postings. A bully and his posse standing above.

The worst angle in the world: prone, prey, broken, looking up at others looking down and laughing. Slowly, he nodded. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“Hey, anything. Hope you find the freak.”

Cooper let them take a step toward the hall before he said, “By the way, I lied.”

“Huh?”

“We’re not all normals.” He rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands. “The three of you humiliated and beat the shit out of one brilliant. Let’s see if you can do it again.”

Cooper let that sink in, then turned to Ethan. “Doc, do me a favor, would you?” He smiled. “Shut the door.”