They have to wait for the next elevator. On the way down to the parking garage, Emma chafes her hands together until Bell looks over. Then she puts them in her pockets.

Forewarned by Cooper, the escort security desk staff member ticks their IDs off a list and informs them that they have to take the rear exit onto E Street NW, as the front exit is locked down for the evening.

When she and Bell are finally in the car, Emma can sense the energy of the last few hours circulating in the air around them, trapped in there with them by the windows and the body of the vehicle. She has a fierce awareness of what has happened, what is happening now, the tense stillness of Bell beside her in the driver’s seat, the sound of her own breathing.

Bell starts the car. He waits before pulling out of the parking space. Emma feels the shudder of the engine in the fillings of her teeth.

“I know this isn’t our job.” Her voice ricochets in the car’s interior. “I know our job is supposed to be different. To collect information.”

“We are collecting information.” Bell’s fingers are firm on the wheel while the car idles, while he stares forward. “Important information.”

“Yeah.”

He pauses. “Then why does this sting like I’ve been benched?”

Emma looks at him. “You know why.”

“Do you think we should be involved in this?”

“We’re already involved. We’ve been involved since Cooper first sent us to interview Simon Gutmunsson.”

“That’s right. We have as much connection to this case as anybody. We can’t back out now.” Bell sucks his teeth. “How far is it to Berryville?”

Something—her heart, she supposes—lurches inside Emma’s chest. “About an hour and a half. You basically follow the Potomac to Leesburg.” She heard Westfall say it when he and Cooper were arguing over whether Westfall could avoid the helicopter and go by road.

“Then take Route 7?” Bell is easing the car out of the parking space in the dark garage.

“Yep.” Emma buckles her seat belt. “Do you know how to get out of Washington?”

“No. I flew in from Wisconsin to Washington National and picked up the truck from there. I’m gonna be following my nose.”

“E Street onto Tenth, I think. Head for Constitution Avenue.”

Bell raises his eyebrows. “Have you been to DC before? How do you know?”

“My dad drove us to see the Christmas tree about five years ago.”

“God help us.” Bell puffs out a breath. “This is probably a terrible idea.”

“Probably.”

“I guess we’ll have an hour and a half to think about that.”

They side-eye each other. Emma thinks if she tried to high-five with Bell now, he might actually reciprocate. Then it’s all focus as she tries to remember ancient directions that will get them out of the city.

It’s forty miles to Leesburg, where Emma buys chocolate and coffee—neither of them have eaten since lunch and they’re running on fumes—and Bell gases up the Diplomat. Bell has shucked his jacket and tie, opened his collar. The sun is preparing to close down the day by the time they get back on the road.