As Cooper calls Dr. Scott again to confirm arrangements around Dixon’s arrival, Emma turns back and looks at him. “Are we coming with you to Washington?”

Cooper nods at her over the handset as he speaks. Bell frowns, leaves the room. Martino has already flipped a notebook open and started scribbling.

“… be there in about twenty-five minutes. Thank you, Dr. Scott, you’ve been really helpful.” Cooper disconnects, starts gathering his jacket and his own notebook as he turns to Martino. “Carter needs to cooperate with the chief in Berryville, guy by the name of Donahee. I’d prefer to delay the press call, but if Donahee can’t do that, if he’s under too much pressure, tell them to go ahead. Carter will want to stand at the back and be a presence, but don’t make it official. No statement at this time, no immediate threat to Berryville residents, out of respect for the families we’re waiting to hear back on investigative analysis—you know the drill. If he’s forced to say something, he should refer to Donahee’s operation, keep the local force on-side. And tell Carter I want the whole damn town door-knocked if they have to—somebody must’ve seen this bastard.”

Cooper and Martino open the door and head out, and Emma realizes she’s supposed to follow. “Where are we going?”

“Motor pool.” Cooper’s pace is brisk. “Where the hell is Bell?”

“I don’t know, he just took off.”

Martino lifts his notebook. “I’m gonna make those calls, Ed.”

“Stay near a phone,” Cooper says. “Use Jack Kirby’s office if you need it. I’ll call as soon as I have word.”

“Good luck and good hunting.” Martino gives an almost-salute, splits off toward Behavioral Science.

Emma matches Cooper’s strides. “This is Butcher-related—won’t Raymond be pissed if we come along?”

“This is Gutmunsson-related, and nothing is confirmed yet. That letter could have come from anyone. Raymond can suck on that for a while.” Cooper smacks the elevator button. “I want you to see the letter and give me your thoughts. That mention of ‘your recent subject’ spooked you, didn’t it?”

Emma tries to shrug. The idea that she’s now been a topic of interest for three different multiple murderers fills her head with a shriek of white noise.

“I might need you to go see Gutmunsson again, and soon.”

“Damn right you do.” Anger firms her knees. “I can handle it.”

The motor pool guy is disorganized; a number of vehicles have not yet been returned. While Cooper goes off to raise hell, Emma stands in the corner. The workshop smells of machine oil and solder and that synthetic air freshener they seem to use in the vents of every government car she’s ever ridden in. Cooper stops shouting and points at her, points at a dark blue Ford Fairmont. Bell arrives back in a rush with a brown paper bag in one hand. They all make for the car from different directions.

She and Bell arrive first, and she wrenches the car door open. “We’re walking the letter through Scientific Analysis.”