Learning to Walk at Night

One was Detective Marcus Reed. Forty-something, hard lines in his face from too many bad nights, the kind of guy who looked at the news and saw the machinery under the slogan. He put a copy of the scene report on the table and did not reach for cuffs. "I'm asking once," he said. "Why did you go down there?" "Because there was someone in the shaft." "You heard them?" "I knew." Marcus studied him for a long second, as if measuring the way a lie changes breathing. At last he said, "The bomb wasn't found in your bag. That satchel shows a second-hand move. But you disappeared for twenty-seven seconds." "Because someone was chasing me."