I didn’t ask a question, she reflected. Then continued, “Because you intended to kill Moreno and you did kill him, any deaths that resulted—even if you hoped to avoid them—are murder.”

His head turned and it seemed that he took in a pattern of scuff on the wall. It looked like a lightning bolt to Laurel.

And then she realized: Lord, he looks like David! She’d had the same thought when she’d seen Lincoln Rhyme’s aide, Thom. But Shales’s glance just now had been like an electric shock; the airman was much, much closer in appearance and expression.

Schoolmarm…

Said in the heat of the moment.

Still…

David, her only real boyfriend. Ever.

A deep breath and Laurel, steadied, continued, “Are you aware that Robert Moreno was not, in fact, engaged in a plot to attack the American Petroleum building in Miami? And that the chemicals he imported into the Bahamas were for legitimate agricultural and commercial purposes, to aid his Local Empowerment Movement?”

“I’m choosing not to answer that question, either.”

“We’ve datamined your phone calls, determined your whereabouts, have air traffic control information about the drone, photos of the Ground Control Station in the NIOS parking lot—”

“I’m choosing—” his voice caught. “I’m choosing not to respond.” His eyes could not hold hers.

Like David’s.

There, sorry. I didn’t want to say it. You made me…

Instinct told her to back off now. Immediately. Softer voice. “I want to work with you, Mr. Shales. Can I call you Barry?”

“I guess.”

“I’m Nance. I want to work something out. We believe that you were a victim in this too. That you weren’t given all the information about Robert Moreno that you probably should have been when the STO was issued.”

Now a flicker in his eyes.

Which, fuck it all, are just as blue as David’s.

“In fact, it’s possible,” she continued, “that some of the intelligence was intentionally manipulated to make a stronger case for assassinating Moreno. What do you think about that?”

“Intelligence is hard to analyze. It’s a tricky business.”

Ah, no more name, rank and serial number. No doubt: Shales knows that Metzger fudged the intel and it’s been eating at him.

“I’m sure it is. But it presumably is also easy to manipulate. Isn’t that the case?”

“I guess it can be.” Shales’s face was flushed. She believed that veins in his jaw and temple were more prominent than earlier.

Excellent.

Fear was a good tool for persuasion.

Hope was better.

“Let’s see if we can work something out.”

But his shoulders rose slightly and she measured the level of resistance. Still pretty high.

Laurel had played chess with David. This was one of their Sunday-morning things to do, after breakfast and after, well, what often came after breakfast.