Stone said. “Dunham expected Mora to ID you?” “That’s my read. Mora saved my life.” Raney hadn’t slept, hadn’t gone back to the apartment in Fort Hamilton. Instead, he’d walked over the Brooklyn Bridge at 1:00 a.m., then kept walking. He cut diagonals through Central Park, thinking, waiting for the sun to rise. “But then why call you by name before he pulled off the mask? Why risk tipping Mora?” They sat on Stone’s couch, drinking coffee, facing a long window that gave onto the pale southern skyline. “He knows, but he doesn’t want it to be true. He likes having me around. So he slipped Mora an out.” “But you’re safe now. Mora put Dunham at ease.” “For the time being. I think Dunham’s stalling. He’ll keep testing me until he can’t pretend anymore.” Stone turned sideways on the couch, gave Raney a long look.
