Teresa finally removed her hand from her mouth. Her face was a mess. She splashed it with cold water and dabbed at it with wet paper towels. She couldn’t allow anyone to know about the terror that had gripped her; she couldn’t stand pity. She had to mask her confusion and pray that a merciful god would ensure there wouldn’t be another episode anytime soon.

There was an investigation to attend to, and a team to lead. There were victims clamoring for justice, and there was a killer to catch. The moment of weakness she had allowed herself was over.

-23-

-23-

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

Simone De Carli was eyeing him with his arms crossed over his chest. He was thirty, but with his sparse beard and neat, regular features, he looked a great deal younger. He was short, he looked too thin in his skinny jeans, and he had tattoos on his forearms; one could be forgiven for mistaking him for a teenager.

“What if she’s ill? She’s been in there for ages,” Massimo said.

De Carli seemed dubious.

“All the more reason to steer clear,” he replied. His voice had dropped to a whisper now. “She would have asked for our help if she wanted it. Don’t—”

Massimo knocked on the door. They could hear the sound of tap water and of paper towels being extracted from the dispenser. Perhaps Teresa Battaglia wasn’t dead after all.

“Everything okay, Superintendent?” he asked.

The door swung open and Massimo found himself staring into a pair of furious eyes.

“Do you ever mind your own fucking business, Marini?”

Teresa Battaglia was very much alive and as intractable as ever. Massimo turned toward De Carli, only to discover that his colleague had beaten a hasty retreat.

“I was worried,” he said, facing Teresa once more, “but I regret it already.”

She looked awful, like someone who’d been weeping uncontrollably. A few translucent drops were caught in the strands of hair near her ears. Massimo remembered how long the water had seemed to run as he stood listening at the bathroom door; she must have tried to hide her tears by wiping at her face with wet towels. But it hadn’t worked. He wondered what could possibly have happened to break her like that, without any warning.

“I told Chief Knauss and his men that the meeting was over,” he reported.

She glared at him.

“What made you think you could start giving orders around here?”

She pushed past him and headed down the hallway. Massimo could do little else but follow her. He was worryingly close to shouting at her, telling her to go to hell, but he was also concerned for her, though he didn’t know exactly why.

“What have I done wrong now?” he asked.

“What? Were you expecting a medal?”

“Just being ignored instead of actively humiliated would be a start.”