Part 28 (1/2)
Which started the avalanche of people.
”Detective Nyquist?” said a man he didn't recognize. ”Are you on this case?”
”What case?” Nyquist asked.
”Detective Nyquist?” one reporter asked another. ”Wasn't he the guy who nearly died last year?” ”Detective Nyquist?” a third reporter shouted. ”Who murdered Ki Bowles?”
He kept his head down. He'd shoved his way through crowds before. A few times, he'd shoved his way through crowds of reporters.
It hadn't made him nervous before, but it made him nervous now. He still wasn't over that attack-and remembering it just a few moments ago, no matter how much it had served this case-only seemed to make him even more uneasy.
He wanted to brush away anything that looked ropelike. He hated the touch of hair or fabric against his skin.
His heart was pounding and the distance to the door looked like kilometers.
”Detective Nyquist, why would anyone want Ki Bowles dead?”
”You tell me,” he shouted back at them, knowing that sometimes statements like that brought actual results.
”Is it true that she was returning to InterDome?” someone asked.
”Do you think this was an in-house rivalry?” asked someone else.
”How could anyone get killed on the grounds of the Hunting Club?” asked a third. ”I thought they had the best security in Armstrong.”
He finally made it to the door. Someone inside opened it for him and he slid through the crack. Then the two of them leaned on it so that no reporter followed.
The street cop inside looked even more harried than the street cops outside.
”Sorry,” she said. ”I'm told it's only going to get worse.”
”The story of the year,” Nyquist said. ”Nothing reporters like more than a story about a reporter.”
He sounded more cynical than he felt. He was actually feeling sorry for Bowles. Especially if she had died for her profession. That showed more courage than he would have expected.
He adjusted his coat, made sure no one had stuck a tracking device or a microphone on him. ”Can you see if I'm chipped?” he asked the street cop.
The cop grinned. She held out a gloved hand. He recognized the glove. It was black with gold lining, designed to catch most noninternal chips and tracking devices. She ran it across the air near him, but found nothing.
”Thanks,” he said. He would still run the check himself when he got into the elevator. He hated it when some reporter got news that way. The courts always ruled such actions illegal, but that was long after the story aired and a case was ruined.
He stopped outside the elevator when Romey appeared in the lower corner of his left eye. He hated that, and wished he could shut off the feature, even though he knew better than to do so in the middle of an investigation.
”You secure?” she asked.
”G.o.d knows,” he said. ”I just ran a reporter gauntlet.”
”Ooof.” She rolled her eyes. He didn't recognize the backdrop behind her. Improbably, it was all white. ”I'll try to phrase this as cautiously as I can, then.”
”Okay.” He decided not to step into the open elevator. He moved away from the doors and closer to the walls. ”What do you have?”
”Did you tell me that a bodyguard is in custody?”
She meant a bodyguard of Ki Bowles, but she didn't say so.
”Yeah,” Nyquist said. ”Someone's doing preliminaries right now. I planned to talk to him when I got back to the station.”
”Might be worth a conversation together,” Romey said. ”You want to meet me there?” ”Now?” he asked.
”Yeah,” she said.
”I thought you had to do hundreds of interviews,” he said.
”Whitford Security is the most annoying organization,” she said. ”They parcel out information so no employee knows more than one thing. It's like putting a puzzle together. I'd rather wait for the reports. h.e.l.l, I'd rather wait for a computer a.n.a.lysis of the reports.”
”Well, I actually have something pressing,” he said. ”Why don't you interview him?”
”Because I know something you don't,” Romey said, ”but I'm pretty sure you know a lot of things that I don't. The interview will relate more to your side of this investigation than mine. I need you there.”
”You think this is crucial?” Nyquist asked.
”If my hunch is right,” Romey said, ”I might know the name of our killer.”
”You think there is only one?” Nyquist asked.
”Don't know that yet,” Romey said. ”But I suspect we're going to find out.”
42.
Something made Talia look up. She'd been lost in the data, finding the details of these court cases fascinating despite herself. She had no idea how someone could live happily from day to day when so many people hated her.
Maybe Ki Bowles hadn't lived happily.
Maybe she had just lived.
Talia was beginning to understand that. She sometimes found herself thinking that she didn't deserve to be happy-she couldn't be, not with her mom dead.
And then she'd feel guilty when she was.
It was bad, but not as bad as some of the stuff she'd been reading about Bowles.
Talia had just been looking at an interview with some guy who'd followed Bowles around Armstrong for nearly a year before the police managed to find him, when her heart started pounding hard.
She had grown nervous and she wasn't sure why.