Nick leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face, his fingertips digging at the blur of fatigue. He didn’t need to look at his watch. The bristle on his jaw told him it was late. His stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since earlier in the day. He had a headache. The room was too warm and too dark. The glare from the computer monitors had sucked the liquid from his eyes. And of course it didn’t help matters that Maggie O’Dell sat next to him, so close he could smell the scent of her, causing his mind to reel slightly off track—was it shampoo? Lotion? Perfume?

They must have already looked at several miles’ worth of tape, trying to find the three young men and track their paths. They followed them through the mall as best they could, accessing the appropriate camera view and going backward. To get to the third floor, each of the young men had to come up one of the escalators. To come into the mall, they had to enter through one of the entrances. And so the reasoning took them, step by step, camera by camera, segment by segment. It was tedious and now Maggie wanted to go back through certain segments over and over again.

Yarden was much more patient than Nick. He caught himself sighing a couple of times but didn’t even garner a glance from Maggie. She was in another zone. And Yarden was busy proving himself a master of the control panel, his long fingers never tiring, his mind sharp, his patience admirable. Never once did he grumble or question or hesitate. He was the quintessential follower, eager to please, jumping at the next request. And although Nick was technically Yarden’s superior the little man beamed at Maggie, looking to her first for each instruction no matter whether Nick had given the last. Truthfully, Nick couldn’t blame him. There was an easy calm about Maggie, a presence that entered every room with her. One that said, “I know this is tough but we’ll handle it together.”

Nick remembered feeling that way four years ago when she stepped into the chaos a serial killer had left behind in Platte City, Nebraska. As sheriff Nick was supposed to have jurisdiction over the case. He was supposed to have control. He could still conjure up that sense of being overwhelmed, the panic he tried to keep at a low boil somewhere deep inside himself. Even then, Maggie’s presence had reassured him, settled the boil to simmer, made him believe everything would be okay. So he understood Yarden being attentive to Maggie’s every word, her every command, her every move. Nick was too, but for a slightly different reason. When was it that his true feelings for her had come to the surface? When had it finally hit him? Really hit him? Before he canceled his wedding to Jill? Or had that simply been the excuse that led him to the real conclusion?

As he watched Maggie, now he wondered why it had taken him so long.

“Stop it right here.” Maggie interrupted Nick’s thoughts, pointing to a monitor in the upper corner that had caught her attention. “Can you zoom in on his baseball cap?”

Yarden obeyed instantly.

“What is that?” She pushed her chair back and stood for a better view, tapping the screen with her index finger. “We’ve been focused on finding a front shot but what’s that on the side of his cap? It’s a logo, isn’t it?”

Yarden moved forward, careful to keep from leaning too close.

She’d been taking notes, pages of them in her miniature notebook. As Nick swiveled and stood to take a closer look at the monitor, he glanced down at the notebook before he glanced up. In a brief glimpse, all he caught was the word PROFILE at the top of the page.

“Oh, I know what that is. It’s the Golden Gophers,” Yarden said, beaming like a school kid answering the tough question for his favorite teacher.

“College team,” Nick explained to Maggie.

“Right. University of Minnesota,” she said without missing a beat. Nick was impressed. Yarden even more enamored. “Looks like he’s wearing a letterman jacket, too,” she added. “Jerry, doesn’t that look like the university’s insignia? It’s an M, isn’t it?”

Yarden was already punching keys and zooming in on the guy’s upper left chest where Maggie had been pointing.

“Minnesota fan,” Nick said.

“Or he’s a student,” Maggie countered.

The phone on the wall rang.

It startled all three of them. Yarden looked at it as though he’d never seen it before. He glanced at Maggie, then Nick.

“Must be the guys upstairs,” he said, but still didn’t move to answer the phone like he didn’t want to be reminded of what was upstairs.

At first Nick thought Yarden was waiting for someone to instruct him once again or to give him permission to answer it. However, one good look at Yarden’s face and Nick could tell the apprehension was dread, not uncertainty.

The phone must have rung a dozen times before Yarden pushed himself out of the chair and reached for it.

“Security.” A pause and then he added, “This is Jerry. Jerry Yarden.”

Nick tried not to watch, but it was impossible to look away. Yarden’s entire face crunched together like a man waiting for something or someone to hit him. He nodded and swallowed hard a couple of times, his Adam’s apple bobbing above his collar.

By the time he returned the phone’s receiver to the wall Yarden had lost all color in his face.

“Security thinks they have another bomber,” he said in almost a whisper.

“You’re kidding?” Nick asked. “Where?”

“In the southwest parking lot.” The Adam’s apple bobbed again. “They wanna see you and me upstairs.”

Maggie’s cell phone started ringing. A couple seconds later, Nick’s started ringing, too.