Rune held up a small black box. “These guys are great. Police radio receiver. Reporters use them to get the scoop. I heard the call. Code Ten-thirty-three.”

The smile began low and wouldn't stay down. “You shouldn't be here. But I'm getting tired of telling you that so I don't think I will.”

“Sorry to hear about the trouble at home.”

He frowned, shook his head. “What trouble?”

“About your phone breaking. So you couldn't make calls.”

Maybe he was blushing but if so he didn't look embarrassed. “I'm sorry. I should have.”

No excuses. She liked that. “I'd be mad,” she said, “except you actually look kind of glad to see me.”

“Maybe I am.”

A voice called from beside the shattered box office. “Hey, Sam.”

They turned. Rune was glad to see it wasn't Brown Suit. A uniformed cop waved lazily. He shouted, “The battalion commander says it's okay to go in. We've rigged lights for you. Not much to see, though.”

“Can I?” Rune asked.

Healy kept his face on the front of the building.

“Please?”

He said, “You get hurt in there, I could lose my job.”

“I won't get hurt. I'm tough. I bounce.”

His lips twisted slightly, Sam Healy's concession to a sigh, and he nodded his head in a way that might have meant anything but that Rune knew meant: Shut up and get your ass inside.

“No taping.”

“Aw.”

“No.”

“Okay, you win.”

Together, for an hour, they sifted through the debris. Rune kept running to Healy every few minutes with bits of metal and wire and screws in her hand and he'd explain they were chair hardware or wires from the wall or the plumbing.

“But they're all burnt. I thought —”

“Everything's burnt.”

“That's true,” she said and went back to sifting.

Healy's own pile of Significant Junk, which is how Rune thought of it, was growing, nestling in a stack of plastic bags under the exit sign.

“Zip is what I've got. Zip.”

“No note this time,” Rune pointed out.

He said, “The MO's the same as the first.”

“Modus operandi,” Rune said.

“The bomb was C-3. Timed detonator. You know, these last two bombs don't help your theory about someone covering up Shelly's murder. Nobody's going to keep bombing just to cover up a crime.”

“Sure they are. If they're smart.”

They'd both begun to cough; the fumes were thick. Healy motioned her to follow him outside.

As they stepped into the air, breathing deeply, Rune looked up at the crowd.

She saw a flash of color.

Red. It looked like a red jacket.

“Look! It's him!”

She couldn't see his face but it seemed that he saw her; the man turned and disappeared east down Forty-seventh.

“I'm going after him!”

“Rune!” Healy called but she ducked under the yellow tape and ran through the mass of spectators pressing forward to get a look at the disaster.