As Archie came around the open stall he saw that Susan was sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, a cigarette dangling between her fingers. The gold dress was stuffed in an open brown paper grocery bag and she was back in her street clothes—tights, the silver skirt, a tank top with the red hooded sweatshirt over it. The hood was up. She’d scrubbed all her makeup off. There was still pink liquid bathroom soap around her hairline. Her sweatshirt had dark spots where water from the sink had splattered on it.

“What took you so long?” Susan asked, ashing her cigarette into the toilet.

“I had to make a call,” Archie said. He didn’t add, or Henry would have rushed the island with a SWAT team.

“I did what you said,” Susan said. “I’ve barely said two words to him.”

“He’s ready to call an ambulance,” Archie said. “I think you’ve traumatized him.”

“Men really can’t handle menstruation,” Susan said, rolling her eyes. “It freaks you guys out.” Her gaze landed on his shoes. She looked impressed. “Are those Italian?”

Archie looked down at his feet. “I don’t know.”

Susan took a drag off her cigarette. “Now what?” she asked, grinning.

She liked this, Archie realized. She was enjoying herself. He’d created a monster. “Now we talk to Sanchez,” Archie said.

“But you said—”

“We talk to him,” Archie said. “But we’re careful about what we say.”

“Why?” Susan asked, pulling at a hole in the knee of her black tights.

“It’s probably nothing,” Archie said. He tried to be diplomatic in how he put it. “But Leo had some reservations about how much Sanchez could be trusted.” Archie gave Susan a serious look. “Can you follow my lead?”

Susan dropped her cigarette butt into the toilet water between her legs and brought a hand to her forehead in an exaggerated salute.

Archie suspected that Susan Ward had never followed anyone’s lead in her life, but he didn’t see a lot of options. “I need you to lie to the FBI,” he said. “Can you do that?”

Chapter 21

CHAPTER

21

Archie glanced over at Susan. She was chewing on her fingernails, sleeves pulled over her palms, hood up, reeking of stale cigarette smoke and hair spray. They were sitting across from Sanchez in a small, windowless room that had all the maneuverability and ambience of a storage closet. Sanchez was sitting ramrod-straight, eyeballing Susan like she might burst into flame.

“What’s this space used for?” Archie asked Sanchez. Archie had been in the FBI interview rooms, and this wasn’t one of them. That was good. It meant that the room probably wasn’t equipped with a surveillance system, though with the FBI you never knew.