"No."
"Why not?"
"Doesn't concern you."
"You just filed it away, what he said. And that's it?"
"No, that's not it." Healy debated for a moment. Finally he said, "The witness wasn't helpful."
"So there're no leads."
"There're leads."
"But nobody's following up on them," she said cynically. "Because of the word, right? From downtown."
"I'm following up," Healy said.
"What?" she asked quickly. "Tell me!" And she guessed he was wondering whether the date had been a good idea.
"I checked the fingerprints from the phone where the killer called her the night of the bombing."
"And--"
"Nothing. I'm also tracking the explosives. The wrapper I mentioned. I think we can trace the inventory."
"So, you going to get fired for doing all this? Because of the word from headquarters?"
"Way I figure it, the ops coordinator or precinct commander's got my phone number. They want me to stop, they can always give me a call."
Her hand closed on his shoulder. She felt a sizzle. Part of it was gratitude that he was going out on a limb to find out who'd killed Shelly. Part of it was something else.
But she concentrated on the detective part at the moment. "Look, Sam, how 'bout I help you?"
"Help me what?"
"Find the killer."
"No."
"Come on, we can be a team!"
"Rune."
"I can do stuff you can't. I mean, you have to do things legally, right?"
"Rune, this isn't a game."
"I'm not treating it like a game. You want to catch a perp." She emphasized the word to let him know she'd been around crime and criminals. Then added, "And I want to make a film." Her lips were taut. "That's not a game."
He saw that fire in her eyes. He didn't say anything else.
After a moment she asked, "Just tell me one thing."
"What?"
"Promise you'll answer."
"No."