She shrugged. “On the one hand, I’d certainly like to see Win Walker’s face if he has to arrest her. On the other—I think you could be more creative than the police would be.”

“You’re right,” John said. “I have a few unorthodox ideas for dealing with Patty-Cake. But that comes later. First I have to talk to Caroline, and then we have to get out of here.”

Angie found she didn’t want to listen to any conversations John might need to have. She took a shower, washed plastic cups, made coffee, cleaned up in the conference room. Thinking, as she did, of all the things that might be going wrong out there in the light of day, where people were no doubt still looking for John, and Rivera, if no one else, was beginning to wonder about her. Suddenly the idea of another twenty-four hours locked in these rooms with John seemed very attractive.

When he came to find her she told him so. She said, “I’d actually like to show you some of our footage, especially the stuff we shot in Savannah. I’m thinking it might be pretty effective to use it layered with passages from Miss Maddie’s autobiography— Oh. Um, I never did get around to telling you about that.”

He looked more intrigued than concerned. “Miss Maddie wrote an autobiography?”

As Angie explained, John studied the floor. There was nothing frightening in that, especially, but she wished she had not brought up the subject of work so soon. The day ahead of them would be hard enough.

John raised his head and looked at her, his expression thoughtful, alert, almost severe in its sincerity. He said, “I know how important this is, I do. But just for today, can we forget work?”

She walked up to him and put her face to his shoulder and her arms around his waist. And nodded, because she didn’t trust herself to talk.

“Hey,” he said gently, rubbing her back. “Did I manage to say the right thing?”

She nodded again, cleared her throat, and leaned back to look at him. “Thank you.”

“Why, you’re welcome, darlin’. Do you want to know about Caroline?”

“Not especially,” Angie said. “But you better tell me anyway.”

“It was Miss Junie on the phone. Caroline was out running.”

“Running.”

“After early mass, according to her mama.”

Angie said, “So, did Miss Junie take you apart?”

“Oddly enough, no,” John said. “Miss Junie said, and I quote: ‘We had a lovely going-away party, I’m so sorry you had to miss it.’ She still sees me as the injured party.”

“You did tell her why you weren’t there?”

“Sure. Later today the Rose girls will be paying Patty-Cake a visit, you can be sure of that. Whatever vitriol was headed my way has been effectively diverted.”

“You are bad,” Angie said, laughing.

“Listen.” He lifted his head. “Here comes Rob.”