Martino waits until they’re all in the elevator car before rubbing a hand across his mustache. “Okay, I didn’t know the score with Raymond, but now I do. He’s obviously got some kind of beef with you two.”

“You think?” Bell steps closer.

“Settle down, son.” Martino puts a palm up. “Ed Cooper said you’ve both been contributing to the Butcher case. And he told me to look out for you, so I’m doing it. I have to sell the candy to Raymond, so I won’t be able to share any information officially. But you have a phone in your office now. I’ll keep in touch.”

Bell blinks. “It won’t matter after this weekend. We’ll be off the base.”

“Then we’ll have to work fast,” Martino says grimly. “Raymond seems like he’s gonna go off on his high horse, and that’ll keep him distracted. Either way, if you’ve got input on the case, I want it. If I’m out of the office, get my contact off Betty and call me. I want to catch this bastard. Now more than ever.”

“Okay,” Bell says stiffly. “Thank you.”

“Cooper said you were worth it.” Martino looks at them, then looks away. Emma remembers Cooper was his colleague, maybe even his friend.

When they get to basement level and emerge into the bunker corridor, Martino splits off for Behavioral Science. Bell walks to the door of the Cool Room, Emma following. Bell’s hand closes on the doorknob. He can’t seem to turn it, though.

Emma watches his back, feeling the energy pulsing out of him. “You’re going to have to open the door eventually.”

“Cooper—” Bell starts.

“I know.”

Bell’s shoulders tense under his black T-shirt, then he twists the knob and pushes inside. He walks slowly to the desk. Emma closes the door, resting back on it. She straightens up again when Bell makes a muffled noise. He sweeps the papers on the desk onto the floor, where they fall in a tented, fluttering arch.

“Bell.”

Another sweep of his hand, and a box of pens splits and scatters. He kicks over one of the stacks of file boxes close to the desk—a waterfall of paper spills out—and shoves the desk chair aside. When he grips the desk itself, like he wants to tip it over, she crosses her arms and raises her voice.

“Travis, stop. Stop this right now.”

He turns and throws his hands up, everything about him harsh and bleak. “Well, what the fuck d’you expect me to do?”

Emma plants her feet, buries her own anger deep. “I expect you to act like a professional. If you want to beat the shit out of something, go take it out on the punching bag. Don’t wreck the office—we did good work here. All of us.”

Bell covers his face with his hands. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re off the case.”

“No, we’re not. Didn’t you hear Martino? He’s going to share information.”

“What good will that do against the goddamn section chief?”