“Don’t let Gutmunsson screw with your head,” Bell counters.

“Good luck,” Emma says.

“I don’t say that anymore.” Before he disappears out the atrium door, he meets her eyes. “Let’s say ‘good hunting.’”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The Rabbit has a flat.

Emma swears the parking area blue, stops to gather herself. She could ease the car down to the motor pool, but if her father knew she’d done that he’d be mortified, so she rolls up her sleeves and changes the tire herself. It slows her down for more than thirty minutes, which means she hits heavy traffic on the way to Washington.

Sitting in a jam past the Jefferson Memorial, she tries again to find that emotional connection to the Butcher’s victims. She had a flash of it, enough to figure out the medical technicians list. She knows she needs that connection now more than ever, but her grasp on it is slippery. She’s dangerously distracted by the knowledge of what’s happening, of forces moving in the distance like thunderclouds, and also the awareness that they don’t have any more time.

When she finally makes it to the asylum, the high redbrick ramparts look ominous, and a stiff breeze pushes at her in the parking area. She pushes against it as she walks for the door, pushes against the low, pulsing pressure in her mind.

In the cool of the foyer, a white-uniformed employee with a first aid kit, who is already speaking to the receptionist, makes way for Emma to ask for Dr. Scott to be paged. She’s kept waiting in the foyer for nearly twenty-five minutes. At last the woman arrives, announced by the clipped enunciation of her heels on the parquet floor.

“Miss Lewis.” Scott is wearing black, as if she’s in mourning, but Emma finds her calming to look at. “I’m so glad to see you. I was told you went with Mr. Bell to escort Kristin Gutmunsson.”

“No.” Emma feels a stab of anger toward Raymond. “Bell went alone, and I came here. I’m sorry for the confusion. Things have been… complicated over the last few days.”

“I know.” Scott shakes her head in disbelief. “The news about Ed Cooper’s death was just awful. I’d like to attend his service, if my duties here permit.”

“It’s tomorrow. But I haven’t… I mean, I haven’t come just to tell you about that. I’d like to see Simon, if you’ll allow it.” Emma feels that honesty might work best with Scott today. “I don’t have official permission. I’m not even really supposed to be here—”

“Miss Lewis, I’ve been told to restrict visitors, but if you’d like to visit Simon, you’re more than welcome. It might help to settle him, given the current situation.” Scott leads her to the wooden foyer door under the stairs, opens it with the long black key. They walk together through the great hall. “I received your message, that you wanted to speak to me—did you want to discuss the FBI operation here in the asylum? What do you know about it?”