“You know,” Brewer said impatiently. “How did he seem?”

She was quiet for a moment, wondering what the man was getting at. Finally she said, “He seemed… sweaty, sir.”

Brewer glanced sharply at her, but Madeline’s face was expressionless. “Very funny, Detective Casey. But what’s he like? How did you read him?”

Madeline knew it would do no good to point out how difficult it was to form an accurate assessment of somebody after being in his presence twenty minutes. And she would rather have her tongue cut out than share some of the impressions she had formed of the man. She took her time answering. “He seemed confident. Self-assured. I didn’t detect any nervousness about being asked to come in and speak to Ritter.” She shrugged. “If you’re asking me what kind of cop he is, I don’t have the answer to that yet. Although his captain seems to hold him in high regard.”

Brewer merely grunted at this. “And you’re sure he doesn’t have any contacts in the Northeast District who he can call to check up on you?”

Her tone was bored. “It appears the information in his file was correct on that score. And he said he didn’t.”

“Good, then, good.”

If Cruz talked to someone in the Northeast District, the investigation would be in jeopardy. He’d find out that Madeline had been placed there at one time, but had transferred out five years ago. And then he would wonder what she’d been doing in the time since.

“You say you’ve never met him before today?”

Madeline gritted her teeth. The man could get a job as a human echo. He seemed compelled to repeat everything she said. “No, sir, I haven’t.

“Neither have I,” mused the captain, “but I’ve certainly heard of him.” He eyed her shrewdly. “Surely you’ve heard of him, Casey.”