"You may remove yourself, Mr. Mullins," he said in the same clear quiet voice. His dark eyes had dismissed the reporter and gone on to more important matters, looking out across the street and then down, lining up a sniper's shot.

Nick knew his time on the scene was over. The burly sergeant took a step closer to him and flipped his extended hand in the direction of the service ladder like he was shooing an errant barnyard animal.

Nick avoided making eye contact with Cameron as he went. He'd worked with the press liaison for the last couple of years and they'd normally gotten along. He was almost to the ladder when Hargrave's quiet voice stopped him.

"Mr. Mullins?"

Nick looked back. The detective was now down on one knee, still looking out toward the jail, his long wiry frame seeming oddly bent.

"Did you find anything?"

The question confused Nick at first and he couldn't respond. Hargrave turned his dark eyes on him.

"Pick anything up?" he said.

"No," Nick said. "I wouldn't do that to you guys. I've been around long enough."

Hargrave nodded before he looked away, but said nothing, so Nick did the same and silently walked back to the ladder.

"Jesus, Nick," Cameron whispered as he passed him.

Nick peered over to the ground before swinging his leg to the top rung of the ladder, and saw two uniformed deputies below along with Susan, who was standing out in the parking lot a respectful distance from the cops. He faced the building and started down and could hear the shutter clicking on her camera. He turned his head and looked at the telephoto lens she had up to her face and stuck his tongue out. She smiled under the viewfinder and shrugged. From the final rung he jumped the last few feet to the ground and when he turned, the deputies were giving him that deadpan look they must be taught to use in the police academy. Nick didn't know them and they could tell by the khaki pants, the oxford shirt and the notepad in his back pocket that he wasn't one of them.