The bullpen is largely deserted; the sky out the window is a silvery canvas, and the colored sequins of the city lights are beginning to sparkle. Travis already pulled the blind to get a glimpse of the teams leaving, but it wasn’t dramatic, just a collection of vans and patrol vehicles. No lights, no sirens; they don’t want to scare the quarry away.
He sighs and looks over his shoulder at Emma. ‘You want coffee?’
She’s sitting at Kowalski’s desk in front of the scanner, with a notepad and pencil. Having stripped off her green vest in the warm office, now she’s down to her gray Henley, plus jeans and runners he’s seen her in a hundred times. Her left leg jigs compulsively; it stands out because she’s usually so controlled. Travis can almost see the tornado of barely suppressed nervous tension whirling inside the envelope of her skin.
She glances up from fiddling with the frequency knobs on the scanner. ‘Did you say coffee? Coffee would be good.’
Travis considers the wisdom of giving her caffeine when she’s like this. Across the big room, a phone rings. Another Pittsburghofficer, the lone man on the floor, answers the phone, then goes out the door with paperwork.
Travis turns to the right. ‘Kristin?’
At another detective’s desk nearby, Kristin’s white silk blouse and dark blue pants are drooping. She looks washed out, but everyone looks washed out under the fluorescent lights. She curls a long strand of her white hair over and over in her fingers as she stares straight ahead at nothing.
Travis tries again. ‘Kristin?’
She blinks like she’s waking from a dream. ‘I’m very sorry, what did you say?’
‘I asked if you want coffee.’
There’s a pause as she looks at his face, like she doesn’t recognize him. Maybe he needs to ask a third time. The fax machine chatters on its desk near the hallway entrance.
Kristin’s eyes suddenly seem to find focus. ‘I have to go see my brother.’
Travis frowns. ‘Your brother?’
‘Kristin—’ Emma starts.
‘You heard what Mr Carter said.’ Kristin sits up straight, her expression shifting into a new intensity. ‘They’re going to send him back to Byberry. Throw him on the mercy of the judge.’
‘Yes.’ Emma tries again. ‘But hey—’
‘And once this investigation is over, I return to Chesterfield.’ To Travis, it’s as if Kristin has found a clarity she’s been missing. ‘This might be the last chance I have to see him.’ She stands abruptly, turns for the hall. ‘I’m going to get my things.’
Travis steps forward. ‘Kristin, I don’t think—’
‘Travis.’ Another phone rings somewhere. Emma just looks at him. ‘Let her go.’
They both watch as Kristin swirls up the hallway toward the deposition room, her pumps clicking on the linoleum. Travis doesn’t know what to think. His primary responsibility is with Emma, so technically, Kristin can do what she likes. But still. He puts his hands on his hips, blows out air.
Emma meets his gaze. ‘Come on, Travis. Simon’s a bastard, but he’s her twin.’
‘She should stay close.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ She raises her eyebrows. ‘Coffee?’
Travis sighs again, sucks his teeth, goes to get the coffee. While he’s finding mugs near the Brewmaster, he rolls his neck. They’re about to get their wish – they’re catching the College Killer. He should be excited. Why isn’t he? Is it because he’s here, not in the field? Or is anxiety about the outcome of the operation deadening his response? That’s not it. He’s not sure what it is.
He glances over at Emma. Now she’s chewing the end of the pencil. ‘Are you still rattled from this morning with Gutmunsson?’
‘Not anymore.’ She leans closer to the scanner, which gives out a hiss and crackle, and presses a button. The machine makes a brief earsplitting squawk. Emma throws the pencil onto the desk. ‘Goddammit. What’s the point of having a scanner if it’s notworking?’
Travis looks at her, bemused.
Emma sees him looking, flushes. ‘Fine – maybe I am still rattled. But I won’t feel better until I know the strike team has got Linda out safe. And I can’t do it with this piece ofcrap.’ She gives the top of the scanner a frustrated slap.
‘All right, calm down. Lemme see.’
He comes back with the two hot mugs, sets them on the desk so he can pull up a chair. It’s Simmons’s chair, with the wheels. Travis feels like he’s been living in this dress shirt, these suit pants, for months. He loosens his tie.
