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in. They’d shoot him dead. And the whole building is monitored.”
    “I’ll tell you everything we know, Ms. Markham, but let’s get out of here first. Trust me on this, neither the FBI nor the local cops nor the Justice Department want you hounded by the press right now. Please come, we’ve got to go.”
    Callie stared up at him. “Who are you, exactly, besides a big mean guy and a snappy dresser?”
    “I’m Detective Ben Raven, Washington Metro.” He flipped out his badge. She studied it. “You can check out Officer Kreider and Detectives Boaz and LeBeau later.” Come on, let’s get out of here. Captain Halloway said the FBI is bringing in one of their hotshots. The guy was out of town, probably off skiing somewhere. He’ll be meeting us at the Daly Building. Of course Director Mueller and Deputy Assistant Director James Maitland will be in charge of the investigation.” He held out his hand to her. “This FBI hotshot they’re bringing in will probably want to lay you out on a rack, and find out everything you don’t even realize you know.”
    “I see. You’ve already pounded the grieving widow and now you’re ready to move on to the daughter.”
    “Yes. Actually, you’re his stepdaughter, aren’t you?”
    Callie rose, in his face now. “And your point would be?”
    “Just trying to be accurate, Ms. Markham. In my line of work, accuracy is important.”
    “Accuracy is important in mine too, Detective Raven, but I try not to be a moron about it.”
    He couldn’t find another lick of patience. “We must leave now.” He knew she was angry, for her mother, he imagined. He’d seen her eyes go glassy there for a while, and he’d worried she’d collapse along with her mother. But he wasn’t worried now. She was ready to do battle, ready to chew some nails. He had a feeling that nails were a staple in her daily diet.
    Margaret Califano was no help at all. It took both Officer Kreider and Callie to get her into her lovely dark blue cashmere coat, to pull boots on her feet, and to work the gloves onto her hands. She was weeping silently, not fighting them, but not helping either. And Callie kept thinking, Stewart is dead. Someone murdered him. How could this happen?
    The three men stood there, of no use at all, uncomfortable but stoic, until she was ready.
    Callie and Officer Kreider half-carried her mother to the four-door white Crown Victoria, the last car in line. Detective Raven helped them into the backseat after sweeping away a box of Kleenex, an empty pizza box, and a stuffed dog with a dangling left ear.
    He got in next to her, crowding her over, and closed the door. “Bobby, we’re ready.”
    “Was that close or what?” Detective Bobby LeBeau said. “Here are the vultures now. Nancy’s going to follow in her car, and Ray will bring yours in, Ben.”
    Bobby pulled out onto the snow-covered road as the first of the media vans was searching the street for the right house.
    Ben smacked him on the shoulder. “Go, Bobby.”
    Callie said quietly to Detective Raven, “How did the killer manage to get into the building, much less up to the third-floor library?”
    He frowned at her and grabbed the chicken stick above the passenger window when the car started sliding on the slick road. “Before we get to that, do you know, personally, what Justice Califano was doing at the library last night, Ms. Markham?” To her surprise, he pulled his PDA from his pocket and waited, the small stylus poised.
    “I have no idea. I told you he liked to spend time there, to be alone, I suppose, study briefs, review opinions, whatever. If he went for a specific reason last night, I don’t know what it was. May I ask why it didn’t occur to any of you to call me?”
    “Your mother didn’t know your hotel in New York. We didn’t try your place because your mother didn’t think you were there.”
    “All right. I answered your question, now answer mine. How did the killer manage to get to my