I WAS CLOSING IN ON HER. I could feel it.
Nothing could stop me.
I was slowed down by two guys arguing in the middle of the street about a broken taillight. But I couldn't be stopped.
On the way to East 30th Street I did consider calling Miller.
I was closing in on the Ohio Street bomber, after all. I might be in danger.
Calm down, calm down. What you're closing in on is Louanne Hawk Redman, who knows the woman in the picture. But Louanne might not tell you. Not at first.
No point in getting Miller excited prematurely. Premature excitement can be a problem, for cops. If they have their guns out they might fire too early.
Besides, me bringing the Ohio Street bomber in myself was tastier. I liked the idea of that a lot, after the pressure I'd endured. Miller might have his ambition, but I had my pride.
And there was the advertising potential: Albert Samson, scourge of Indianapolis terrorism. Think what Frank could make of that.
Law In Action was a storefront near the corner of Tacoma. Its window was papered at eye level with posters describing the services it could provide.
I didn't read about them. I walked right in.
Just inside the door there was a desk. The woman at it was sorting through a pile of papers.
My eyes were drawn to her hands. On the backs there were large pigmentless areas, perhaps scar tissue. The result was white spots on otherwise dark brown skin.
I watched her.
After a few moments she looked up. She dropped her hands to her sides and said, “Can I help you?”
It was her.
Her.
The woman in the picture.
“I . . . I . . . I . . .”
She rose. She pushed her chair clear with the back of her thighs. Holding her hands out of sight, she moved around the desk.
I couldn't breathe. I looked for some support. I found plastic chairs placed just inside the door. I sat.
She came to stand before me.
I looked away as she got close. I fought for breath, for control.
The woman took Bobbie Lee's drawing from me.
When I looked up at her again, she was staring at it.
Though I heard a voice from elsewhere in the room, I didn't register what it said.
But Picture Woman said, “It's O.K., Louie. This man and I have a little personal business to discuss. We're going to use the interview room. Get my phone, O.K.?”
She leaned forward and took one of my hands. “This way,” she said.