“What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Safely back aboveground, Maggie let Racine lecture her. A bit ironic—Racine was usually the one doing something reckless, running off half cocked. It didn’t matter. All Maggie could think about was that her feet were freezing. And even in the fresh cold air, she could tell she smelled bad.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous it was to follow him down there?”
“He probably knows his way around,” Tully said, holding his arm tight against his side.
Maggie had asked about his arm when she first came out of the manhole. He had looked at her like she was ridiculous, considering she was the one coming up out of a hole in the ground. But he had assured her that nothing was broken. She wasn’t so sure about that from the pale look on his face.
“You don’t want to go down there if you don’t know where you’re going,” Racine continued her lecture.
“You’ve been down there?”
“No, but I’ve heard stories. The tunnels go all over the place. You need higher security clearance these days to work in the sewers than to work in the Pentagon.”
“You think he’s our firefly?” Tully asked the obvious.
“Why else run?”
“Did you see him?” He wanted to know.
She shook her head. It was true. She hadn’t seen him. Now she wondered if she had really seen his shadow or heard footsteps. It didn’t make sense. Maybe she’d talk to Tully about it later. She wasn’t going to talk about it with Racine. That would be another lecture.
“He could just be some homeless guy,” Racine offered. “He was probably scavenging around after the fire and we scared the shit out of him.”
“What’s in the backpack?” Maggie asked Tully, just realizing that he had it with him.
“I don’t think it’s his. He may have found it. Or stolen it,” Tully told them as he lowered then dropped the bag from his shoulder. The whole time Maggie could see his jaw clenched against the pain.
He tugged open a zippered pocket to show them the small blue booklet inside.
“How many homeless guys do you know carry around their passport?”
Racine pulled out a pair of latex gloves from her bomber jacket pocket and snapped them on. She slid the passport from the bag and carefully flipped the cover open.
“Cornell Stamoran. Nice, clean-cut, professional young man. Blond, blue eyed. Suit and tie.”
“The guy we’re chasing had a beard. Long dirty hair.” Maggie looked at the photo as Racine held it out. “And he looked older.”
“The backpack might have been dropped in the alley.” Tully turned it over to show them the soot-covered flip side. “Maybe our bearded man found it where Cornell dropped it right before he got his head bashed in.”
“You think Cornell could be the victim we found inside the building?”
“We have his address.” Racine tapped the passport closed. “I’ll send a uniform over to see if he’s home. Might be a simple explanation. I’ve gotta get back downtown. I’d rather Ganza processes that.” She pointed to the pack.
“I’ll get it to him,” Tully said, but kept it on the sidewalk next to him.
Still, Racine hesitated. “You two gonna be okay?”
“Of course we’re okay,” Tully snapped.
“Hey, just checking.”
The exchange made Maggie smile. She was glad to see someone else was annoyed with that question. But Tully’s forehead was damp with perspiration and it was chilly here in the shadows of the warehouses, the sun already down low in the sky.
Maggie stood on the sidewalk beside him, watching Racine leave. Neither said anything about the back of her shredded leather jacket. It seemed the perfect symbol for this crazy day.
“This isn’t some harmless guy who’s been living on the streets.”
“I don’t think so either,” Tully said.
“There was someone else down there.”
“City maintenance?”
“I don’t think so. He was smashing out lightbulbs.”
This got his attention. And his concern.
“Do you know if the tunnels loop around?” she asked.
“I’m not sure, but it wouldn’t make sense. The purpose is to move water and sewage from point A to point B, not swirl it back around.”
Maggie took a deep breath of fresh air. That’s what she had thought. “I heard our guy running away in front of me and I followed. But then I heard someone behind me.”
“I suppose he could have crawled back out onto the street and backtracked. But why come back? And smashing out lightbulbs? Doesn’t sound like someone who’s afraid and running away.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“So who do you think it was?”
She shrugged. “All I know is that for once I was really glad to hear Racine’s voice bitching at me.”
This made him smile. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve got a pain in the neck.” Unconsciously her fingers found the sutures, checking to make sure they were intact. “Are you going to be able to drive with that shoulder?”