He’d lost track of his face. John tried never to lose track of his expression. Words were important in convincing people. Keeping your story simple was security. But body language was everything.

A shadow crossed both of the police officers’ faces, and he was fairly certain that neither man had consciously realized that John Cooper had just stepped out of the good-guy lane, maybe just one foot, maybe only a toe over the line. But noted, nonetheless.

“Mr. Cooper, your wife says that your security cameras are motion activated. This guy should be all over your recordings. We need to get this footage. This attack was incredibly bold.”

The younger cop couldn’t contain his affectionate admiration. “And she’s really fine, don’t worry, she’s totally okay, she’s awesome.”

The older man smiled in agreement. “But this guy is really dangerous. We need to let the public know. If you’ve got a good picture in there somewhere, somebody will recognize him. Somebody will tell us who he is. We can stop him before he gets to someone who can’t handle him.”

John Cooper felt the trap of his own devising snap closed. While the police pointed and nodded enthusiastically over his shoulder as he pulled up the video clips, one after the other, his mind was already far ahead into what came next, into what he would say.

He watched as Carly found a way to be okay in all her thin, kind, funny, sweet, brilliant, not-nearly-wary-enough unreadiness. He watched her win the day with no help from anyone after pounding away on an alarm system that had been disabled because John Cooper couldn’t let a computer call the police to his home, no matter what. He couldn’t let blind chance tug its way off the leash.

With the officers behind him, their distractingly laden belts squeaking against their cuffs and guns, John kept his shoulders down and level. He was thankful for the setup that kept them behind him so he could have the privacy of his own face while he went through the recordings.

They watched for the best shots to use for their website and to send out to the media outlets. They had to find this guy before he could hurt someone else. And John had to help them.

The calculations played out, and he wrestled the twinge in his heart at Carly’s desperation and triumph on the screen. Let it go. She’s fine. He had to think. The calm he mimed was at odds with his body’s urge to hand over every file, to let them have everything, anything, if it would only let him get in his car and not stop driving for days.