She decided to push it. ‘Oh, another thing, sir, regarding that private lab you hired for our forensic testing. The press are getting wind of their sloppy procedures: shall I refer all calls to your office?’
McQuarrie said nothing but sat slackly, his uniform not quite so immaculate now. Ellen sat with him. And then, out in the car park, there was a familiar rattle, an old, tappety British motor.
‘That would be Hal,’ she said, beaming at the super. ‘Home.’
He must have driven night and day. She felt a little dizzy and apprehensive. She’d left dishes in his sink, and hadn’t replenished his stash of office coffee, and the subject of where she would live now hadn’t been discussed. At the same time, she felt buoyed by her achievements, and by an old, familiar stirring in the pit of her stomach.