“What? No, but I want to look at the club tapes again. I need to check something.”

“Well, it’s after ten. You could give him a call.”

“Oh, God. My work.” Margrit bolted for the phone.

“I already called them.” Cam held up a carton of strawberry yogurt. “You’re good for a couple of days. They said take the rest of the week off.”

Margrit took the yogurt, then frowned. “Isn’t it Friday?”

“Well.” Cam ate a spoonful of her own yogurt. “Yeah.”

“Generous of them. No, I’ve got to at least call Russell. I have to talk to him about the Delaney case.” Margrit pulled the top off the yogurt cup and licked the foil, fumbling with the phone. “Crap.” She put the yogurt down so she could dial, then wedged the phone against her ear and stole bites of yogurt between speaking. “Voice mail,” she reported a minute later. “I need to go in. I’m gonna take a shower and head over there, okay?”

“Breakfast first,” Cam said equitably.

“Shower, then breakfast, and I swear, you and Cole are like my parents. Did somebody call them?”

“Yes.” The following silence spoke volumes about what they’d had to say. Cam shook her head, then stepped over to Margrit to give her a brief, hard hug. “Call your mom tonight, okay? She’s worried. I’m really glad you’re all right, Grit.”

“Me, too,” Margrit mumbled back. “Okay.”

Cam smiled and let her go. “Go shower. I’ll make you eggs and toast.”

“Thank you. You’re the best. Man, I feel better.”

“Good. Now go.” Cam shooed at her, grinning. “Go, or you’ll be standing here babbling until the sun goes down.”

Blood rushed through Margrit’s ears, suddenly pounding like the sea. Sunset was only hours away.

Only hours until she could see Alban.

She shook herself and went to shower.

Margrit rapped on Russell’s door, announcing her presence. He glanced up and gestured her in, the shirt and tie he wore making her self-conscious as she stopped inside the door and leaned on it, clad in her running tights and sweatshirt. Russell took in her closed-off stance, arms folded around her ribs, and tilted his head. “All the way in, Margrit.”

She shook her head, staying where she was. “I’m fine, thanks. I just wanted to stop by and see if there was anything I needed to take home for the weekend.”

Russell got up, frowning, and came around his desk to put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re all right? Everyone’s very concerned. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“I’ve been better,” Margrit admitted. “No, but I’m okay. I’m not hurt.” She unwrapped an arm to touch the bruise at her hairline. “Despite appearances, maybe. And I’m not here for work,” she added, flicking her fingers at her clothes. “But you said we were going to have a lot of fast work to do, and I don’t think I can afford a three-day delay if that’s the case. I thought I’d come in tomorrow to start doing groundwork.”

“After being hit by a car and disappearing for half a night?” Russell sounded caught between admiration and dismay. “You have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, Margrit.”

“It’s what makes me a good lawyer. Besides, I’ve got the whole day off today. That’s practically a vacation.”

“Obviously I’m doing something wrong,” Russell said dryly. “I thought vacations involved white sand beaches and cerulean skies, not concussions and working over the weekend. Still.”

Margrit grinned at the floor.

“Still,” Russell added, “I appreciate your dedication. Nichole’s been looking over what Daisani’s corporation has pulled together. They’ve got most of the permits necessary to bring the building down.”

“How many of them did they buy?” Margrit asked under her breath.

Her boss acknowledged the barb with a helpless shrug. “I imagine they’ll have the rest of them bought and paid for soon enough. We’re going to have to move very fast to make a difference.”

Margrit’s smile got bigger and she stretched her legs out, showing off her running tights. “Hey, moving fast is my specialty. As of tomorrow, I’m all about the case.”

“And until then?”

“Rest. I promise.” Margrit lifted her hands, protesting her innocence. “I’ll get some rest.”

She just hadn’t said when she’d get some rest. Margrit threaded her way past desks and chairs, hesitating a few yards from Tony’s workstation. He was wearing last night’s clothes, a department jacket thrown over his shoulders for warmth, and his movements were slower than she was used to seeing from him, exhaustion in every motion. “Tony?”

He glanced up, then did a double take and came to his feet. “Margrit. Jesus.” She pushed the chair by his desk aside and grunted quietly as he pulled her into his arms, trying not to knock her forehead against his chin. He hugged her hard for a few seconds, then set her back, hands on her shoulders as he examined her. “You’re all right?”

“Yeah.” Her smile felt watery. “My head still hurts, but I’m not seeing double anymore. Cam said you didn’t leave until you got called in for work. Thanks.” She stood on her toes to steal a kiss, garnering a catcall from one of his coworkers. “What’d you get dragged in for?”

He ignored the question momentarily, brushing his thumb over her hairline, not touching the bruise. “That looks terrible.”

Margrit smiled and traced a circle around the bruise on his eye, also without touching it. “We’re a matched pair now. It- sss! Ow. Hurts! Don’t touch it!”

Tony pulled his hands back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“It hurts,” Margrit repeated, probing at the tender flesh despite having just scolded Tony for doing so. “But it’s just a bruise now, not a concussion. I’m okay. I came by because I think I thought of something. Do you have the Blue Room security tapes?”

His expression flattened, wariness battling the hope. “Yeah.”

“Can I watch them again?”

“What’re you looking for?”

“I’ll know if I see it. Just let me watch them.”

“Margrit…” He grimaced, turning the flesh around his mouth white. “Another woman was murdered last night.”

Nausea that had faded with the concussion’s symptoms slammed back into Margrit’s belly, making her cold all over. “When?”

“Between eleven and one. While you were missing.”

“I was…” She closed her eyes, shivering. “I was unconscious most of the night, Tony. He was gone when I woke up the second time. But he didn’t seem dangerous.”

“If he’s not dangerous and not guilty he’s got no reason to not come talk to the police. Just because he didn’t hurt you doesn’t mean anything, Margrit. He could regard you as a prize. Guys like this do.” Tony’s voice was grim. “It was the same M.O., same time frame, same location.”

“The same location?” Margrit’s voice rose. Tony winced at the pitch and shook his head.

“In the park. Not the exact same place. Up on the north end. Anything you’ve remembered might be important. Come on.” A tilt of his head invited her through the station and into a media room, where she waited several minutes for him to sign out evidence before returning with the videos. He primed them while she watched, tapping her finger against her pursed mouth.

“That one. The Goth Room.” She leaned forward on the TV table, watching the screen from the center dome camera’s point of view.

“What’re you looking for?” he asked again. Margrit shook her head, holding up a hand to gain his silence. The video rolled from Alban’s entrance. The corner camera wires were snipped, and before the next rotation of the center camera, the grating was wrenched from the wall, dangling as evidence of Alban’s escape route. “That’s it.” Tony reached for the off button, but Margrit thwacked his fingers.

“Don’t! I want to watch for another minute.”

“There’s nothing else to see. Getting hit on the head was bad for you.” Tony sat back, waiting. The camera made its rotation, recording the carved statues and the dancers in the club. Margrit shot a finger out and pressed the pause button. The picture froze and Tony sat up. “What? What?”