“We won’t be able to tell for sure until daylight,” Eaton said. “But there’s water up to Second Ave, from Burnside down to Market. Governor’s asked for federal help. They’re sending more Guard soldiers. Washington and California are sending rescue crews. Thank God we got people out of there.”

“The flooding is only up to Second?” Archie said carefully.

Eaton gave him a knowing look. “We evacuated the jail hours ago.”

Archie had been trying to keep his mind from going to Gretchen. He’d focused on Patrick, and Heil, and Susan. But it had nagged at him. The Justice Center was on Third Avenue downtown. It had been in the flood zone. “Where to?” he asked.

“Down to Salem,” Eaton said. “All the prisoners are accounted for. Including Gretchen Lowell.” He looked Archie up and down and raised an eyebrow. “I can’t tell if you’re disappointed or relieved.”

As with everything that had to do with Gretchen, it was a little of both. Archie gripped the blanket a little tighter. “I just want her locked up,” he said.

“Go home,” Eaton said with a sigh. “It’s been an hour. Anyone in that water would have gone hypothermic thirty minutes ago.”

Home. Archie had left the Cutlass on First Avenue. He guessed that it wasn’t still where he’d parked it. His apartment building probably had a moat around it.

Archie couldn’t leave. He raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Anything?” he said.

“Not yet, sir.”

Archie gazed over the side of the bridge at the darkened western skyline.

“What do you think Carey knocked up against?” Eaton said.

“Parked car, maybe,” Archie said. He had told them Carey was dead. He had left out the part about punching him in the brain. He wondered bleakly if an autopsy would call his account into question if Carey’s body ever washed up. Probably. Archie had learned that the more inconvenient a truth, the more likely it would eventually emerge.

Eaton’s phone rang and he glanced at it and picked it up. “Yeah?” he said. He listened. “Hold on.” He held the phone out to Archie. “It’s for you,” he said.

Archie took it. “Hello?” he said.

“Jesus,” Henry said. “I sound better than you do.”

Archie lifted his hand to his forehead. His voice caught. Now that Susan was safe, the rest was hitting him. “Heil’s dead.”

“I heard.”

“I need to call his wife,” Archie said.

“Wait until morning,” Henry said.

Archie could still feel Susan and Patrick in his arms. Feel them ripped away. “I had the boy, Henry. I had him twice, and I lost him. Susan was underwater. She had to be revived.”

“It’s not your fault,” Henry said. His voice was still hoarse from the respirator tube. “Blame the psycho behind it.”

“I have to find this kid,” Archie said.