The distant sound of voices carried up to the roof, but I couldn’t make out any words. Then the distinct sound of a cop shouting orders.

“You staying?” he said.

I nodded.

He lowered the gun.

I swallowed. Got my thoughts under control. “I’m sorry. About leaving my post. Believe me, Jack, I didn’t try going after him myself and leave you out there unprotected.”

“I know. Evelyn told me.”

“I heard someone on my floor and I had to leave the window, then when I got back, you were gone and Evelyn wanted me to come down—”

“Doesn’t matter. Had to change plans. That’s fine. But this—” He jerked his chin toward the alley. “Leading him in? No backup—?”

“There wasn’t time for that. I got his attention, Jack. I didn’t mean to—I certainly wasn’t trying to. I was looking for you and he saw me, and I—”

“Where’s your gear?”

I told him.

“Stay here.” He headed for the ladder, then paused and looked back at me. “I mean it. You leave? You go after him? Pull this shit again?”

He didn’t finish, gaze dipping from mine, rage retreating.

“I’ll stay,” I said. “I promise.”

He nodded, then disappeared down the ladder.

Jack returned with a change of clothing—a full campus-gear outfit of sweatshirt, khakis, ball cap and knapsack. As I dressed, he stuffed my clothes and wig into the knapsack. We wouldn’t keep them, but we had to dispose of them outside the city. I battered my cap in the gravel a bit, so it didn’t look so new. Then I cleaned the rest of the grease-paint off my face and wiped my hands as best I could.

Through it all, Jack said not a word. I could feel his temper smoldering, waiting only for a spark from me to ignite. So I was keeping my mouth shut. It was only when I was cleaning my hands that he acknowledged I was there, walking over and yanking my hand, none too gently, for a closer look.

“Keep them clean,” he said. “Needs a first-aid kit. Might be awhile.”

“That’s okay.” I paused, then decided to risk it. I’d done something wrong—very wrong—and I needed to know what it was. “I don’t think I left any trace. Well, there might be a few drops of blood if they look hard enough…”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re after him. Not you.”

“Is it the witnesses? They didn’t get a good look at me. I kept my face down and—”

“You were in disguise.”

“No one would have made me for a pro, if that’s what you’re worrying about. Not Wilkes and not those college kids. Wilkes just got a victim who fought back. He never saw the gun. The kids did, but not in any way that would seem like anything other than a victim defending—”