They walk out the front door, where the concrete smells of dumpsters and drain water. The overhang protects the sidewalk from the main brunt of the rain. Night is swarming through the gloomy clouds.
Emma can see the red flare of McCreedy’s cigarette inside the Plymouth across the street. She has a sense that something is coming – something unacknowledged between her and Bell is starting to take on a solid shape, but it’s too big and too near, and she can’t make out the details.
Bell’s hands are on his hips as he rounds on her. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Did it not look like I was having a drink?’ The alcohol has made her a little loose. ‘You’re not my guardian. Why do you care?’
‘You’re my partner. And you’re not gonna be any use on this case if you can’t keep it together.’
‘Oh. Well.’ Emma crosses her arms. ‘So long as I’museful to the bureau.’
‘What? Emma, what is going on with you? I know you’re here under duress, and that’s shitty. But why antagonize people like Horner and Carter, who’re trying to help catch this guy? If it’s something to do with why you turned the FBI down—’
‘It’s not about that.’
‘Thenwhat?’ His eyebrows knit. He seems genuinely confused. ‘They’re trying to help, and I’m trying to look out for you, and we’re making progress. But you’re walking around lighting fires, and talking about consulting withSimon Gutmunsson—’
‘He might be able to help us with this case,’ she insists.
‘I still have a bullet-hole scar from the last time Simon Gutmunsson helped us with a case.’ Bell’s expression is very dark. ‘It’s a bad idea, and you know it.’
‘All our ideas are bad right now!’ She’s having trouble keeping her voice regulated. ‘And if we don’t make some progress, we’ll get another dead girl!’
Bell steps closer, too close. ‘Did you report Gutmunsson’s postcards to the bureau?’
‘Don’t try that “big man in a suit” routine on me.’ Emma’s eyes harden and her spine gets poker-straight. ‘Why would I report the postcards? What would be the point? It’s not against the law to send postcards.’
‘Youreallywant to consult with him again, after St Elizabeths?’
‘Of course I don’t want that! But the police here don’t seem to have the first damn idea about how to find this killer, and Simon has an understanding of posing that might—’
‘You watched him take a man to pieces.’ Bell’s lips are thin.
‘Anthony Hoyt was a serial murderer.’
‘So he deserved vivisection?’
Her enunciation is clipped. ‘IknowSimon is dangerous. I haven’tforgotten.’
‘If you go see him now, he’ll drill into your skull with this copycat stuff.’
Emma feels the cold weight of that in her stomach. ‘If I have to deal with that I will.’
‘That’s what I’msaying.’ Bell makes a sharp, frustrated gesture with one hand. ‘You don’thaveto deal with it. Why is dealing with Gutmunsson evennecessary?’
‘Why is itnecessary?’ Emma gapes. ‘Jesus, Travis – have you been looking at the same crime scene photos as me? Dead girls at bus stops. Dead girls in alleyways. Dead girls beneath overpasses …’ She can hear her voice climbing, is powerless to stop it. ‘You think I’m worried about talking to Simon Gutmunsson, if it will help solve this case? Women aredying. Women all over Pittsburgh are terrified. You don’t know what that feels like!’
‘I know Gutmunsson is a sociopath and a liar, and you’d be putting yourself deliberately at risk.’ Bell has snapped at her, which is something that never happens.
‘Er, hello?’ Kristin pokes the edge of herself out the door of the bar. ‘Mr Carter is wondering if you’re coming back to the table? I’m quite a good conversationalist, but it’s a little awkward—’
‘Oh shit,’ Emma says. ‘I’m sorry, Kristin.’
Bell sighs. ‘We’ll be right there.’
‘What were you talking about?’ Kristin steps out fully, lets the door close behind her. If she heard the tail end of their discussion, she’s not giving it away. ‘You can ask me too, you know, if there’s something you’re trying to figure out—’
‘I want to go see Simon,’ Emma blurts. ‘I think we need moreinsight on the posing at the crime scenes. I think it could be really important.’
