The kid believed what he believed. Trying to set him straight just got him yelling and screaming. And kicking. It didn't do anybody any good. Murderer was nothing he hadn't been called before, but he didn't need it today.

Blake was absently scratching McNulty's head. He looked up at the sudden subject change. Shaun's eyes had a haunted quality that an eleven-year-old's shouldn't.

It wasn't an easy question to answer, but he owed the kid that much.

"He wasn't the only one looking. The whole police force was coming for you. So was that journalist."

Madison Paige was a crazy idiot to try to track down the killer on her own, and god was he ever sick of seeing that damn book everywhere, but he had to respect the balls it took to crash through a barricade on a goddamn motorcycle.

"And Norman."

Fuck, that was hard to admit.