IT WAS BEDLAM at the Hall that morning. As scary as it had ever been since I entered police work.

An A.D.A. being killed. August Spies' victim number three.

By six A.M., the place was teeming with a hundred Feds: FBI, Department of Justice, ATF. And reporters, crammed into the fifth-floor news room for some kind of briefing. The front page of the Examiner had a big banner headline: WHO'S NEXT?

I was going over one of the crime scene reports from Jill's killing when I was surprised by Joe Santos and Phil Martelli knocking at my door. "We're real sorry to hear about Ms. Bernhardt," Santos said, stepping in.

I tossed aside the papers and nodded thanks. "It was nice of you to come here."

Martelli shrugged. "Actually, that's not why we're here, Lindsay."

"We decided to go back through our records on this Hard-away thing," Santos said, sitting down. He pulled out a manila envelope. "W............