Rune climbed to the third floor. The scorched smell assaulted her again and turned her stomach. She stepped through the door into what had been an office. She lifted the heavy camera and started shooting. The scene wasn't what she expected, wasn't like in the movies where you see a little smoke damage, chairs knocked over, broken glass.

This was pure destruction.

Whatever furniture was in the room had been blown to shreds of wood and metal and plastic. Nothing was recognizable except a blistered file cabinet that looked as if a huge fist had slammed into it. The acoustical tile on the ceiling was gone, wires hung down and the floor was a frozen black sea of paper, trash and chunks of debris. The walls were crisp bubbles of blackened paint. Heat still rose from piles of damp black cloth and papers.

She panned slowly.

This is where Shelly Lowe's life ended. This is how it ended. Inflames, and —

A voice behind her asked, “What do you think?”

The camera drooped and she shut it off.

She turned and saw Sam Healy, standing in another doorway, sipping coffee from a blue deli cup. She liked that. Asking what he'd asked, rather than “What the hell're you doing here?” Which is probably what he should've been asking.

Rune said, “I think it looks like Hades, you know, the Underworld.”

“Hell.”

“Yeah.”

Healy nodded toward the hallway. “Why'd he let you up here?”

“I reasoned with him.”

Healy walked up to Rune and spun her around slowly, looking at the letters on her back. “Cute. What're you, impersonating a bus driver?”

“Just shooting some tape.”

“Ah. Your documentary.”

She looked at a small suitcase on the floor next to him. “What're you doing here? I thought the word was, keep your distance. Remember the word?”

“I'm just a grunt. I collect the evidence. What the D.A. does with it is his business.”

She looked at a number of plastic bags sitting next to his attaché case. “What kind of evidence've you —”

Another voice cut through the room. “That's her.”

Eddie the cop.

It was that kind of emphasis on her that Rune had heard before. It usually came from teachers, her parents and bosses.

Rune and Healy looked up. Eddie was with another man, heavyset. He looked familiar. Yeah, that was it — at the first bombing, the theater: Brown Suit.

“Sam.” He nodded at Healy, then said to Rune, “I'm Detective Begley. I understand you're with the New York State Police. Could we see your ID again, please?”

Rune frowned. “I never said that. I said I wanted to do some tapes of the state police. For the news.”

Eddie shook his head. “She showed me a shield.”

“Miss, you know it's a crime to have a badge?”

“It's a crime for some people to have a badge.”

Healy said, “Artie, she's with me. It's okay.”