“That’s crazy,” she said. “How’d you figure out it was her?”

“Milo came by this morning, showed me crime scene photos.”

“How’d she die?”

“Shot.”

“Where?”

“That’s important?”

“You know me, baby. I code the world visually.”

Exactly.

I said, “In her face.”

She flinched. “How vicious. Such a beautiful face. And now you’re on it?”

“Mostly I’ve been tagging along.”

“Sure, I’ll draw, but I don’t know if I can come up with anything good. If I don’t, I’ll sit down with a real artist.”

“I could do that.”

“So can I,” she said. “I’d like to do something.” Leaning on her bench. “Poor, poor thing. It’s like we were predestined to be there, Alex.”

I put my arm around her.

She said, “Whenever they want me, let me know.”

“Okay.”

I kissed her.

She said, “You didn’t tell me earlier because …”

“I needed to digest it, myself.”

“Sure. That explains it.”

“I—”

“I love you, too, baby.” She walked to her drafting table. “I’m going to give it a try, right now.”

Four attempts were crumpled. Examining the fifth, she said, “This’ll have to do.”

Spare but accurate likenesses of the girl in white and the man in black. More than enough for the evening news.

I said, “A-plus.”

“More like C-minus. It’s just lines and shadows, I didn’t capture a whit of their personalities.”

“I’m not sure we saw her real personality, Rob.”

“What do you mean?”

“When’s the last time you saw someone use a cigarette holder? It felt like she was playing a role.”

She climbed off her stool. “That was high drama, wasn’t it?” She studied the drawing some more, brushed a curl of eraser lint from the girl’s mouth. “I’m not happy with these. They’re missing something.”

“I’m sure Milo will be happy.”

“Let me sit down with a real artist and work on it until it’s perfect, Alex. I’ve got a few people I can call. Ask Milo if it’s okay to bring in a civilian.”

As opposed to us.

She frowned at the drawing of the man. Lifted the drawing of the girl. “Playing dress-up for some bastard who keeps her waiting then ends up doing that.”

“Or he stood her up and she met someone else. At this point, anything’s possible.”

“I knew there was something off about him.” Jabbing the drawing on the table. “He looked so hostile. If he was a real Secret Service guy doing an actual job, you could understand that. You’d want that. But being part of some sick drama? Creepy, definitely creepy. If Milo’s okay with it, I’ll call Nigel Brooks, see if he’ll help with some real drawing. Better yet, Sam Ansbach, portraiture’s his thing, he’s just back from a show in New York.”