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press was setting up. But it’s not like I knew everyone by first name.”
    “It could be inconsequential—but you’d be amazed by what people see without realizing what they are seeing.” Book smiled encouragingly, adding a gentle touch to the back of her hand, perhaps seeking to soothe her agitation. The action drew her forward in the seat, forcing Helcyon’s hand to slide off her shoulder. The conflicting touches, no matter how comforting alone, zinged through her, leaving fire and agitation.
    Cassie closed her eyes. Better to block out his image and the distracting effect he was having on her equilibrium. “I arrived. It was early. The sun was shining.”
    “What could you hear?”
    “Cars. People talking. Music. Different types of music. Birds. An airplane.”
    “What could you smell?”
    “Seriously?” Cassie cracked an eyelid, confusion swarming through her. “In Grant Park?”
    “Yes.” Book, the bastard, smiled encouragingly. “In Grant Park. What did you smell?”
    “Coffee. I could smell my coffee. I could smell the peppermint and the chocolate in the coffee. I could smell Old Spice. I gave some to Billy at Christmas because you can never go wrong with a classic. He was wearing it. Um—” Cassie squeezed her eyes tighter, trying to concentrate around the knot of grief. “I could smell water. Not lake water, but—the damp, wet odor you smell when water is standing in mud or grass.”
    “Dirty water?”
    “Yeah, dirty water and something like cabbages. Rotting cabbages.”
    “Cabbages? You weren’t near any of the food carts?”
    “No. And I remember the cabbages because I don’t like cabbage. I got sick on boiled cabbage and beef when I was a kid.”
    “That’s a pretty good reason to remember the odor.”
    “I felt kind of ill when I smelled it—you know”—Cassie opened her eyes, meeting his gaze—“like you do when your body remembers being sick?”
    “Yes. That’s quite a bit you’ve already remembered about what you heard, what you saw, and what you smelled—so what didn’t belong there?”
    Cassie lifted a hand to rub at her face and hesitated when Book winced. Oh. The burns. Her freshly healed skin itched, but she knew it didn’t appear healed. In fact, it was supposed to look burned damaged, and sutured. The glamour thing was annoying.
    Focus, Cassie.
    She dropped her hand back down.
    “I really don’t know, and I’m tired.” The last was not a lie. “I want to be able to tell you I saw who did it—but all I see over and over again is Billy’s face, his thumbs-up, and then—nothing.”
    “Okay, okay.” Book turned her hand over, capturing it in his larger palm, and gave it an unexpectedly gentle squeeze. Book cocked his head to the side, capturing her gaze with a small smile. “Just a couple more questions then, and I’ll let you rest.”
    “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
    The words were smooth, but the tone was smoother. Women probably lined up to just listen to him talk in that melted-butter-over-hot-popcorn-with-chocolate-thrown-in way. He would probably taste just as sweet and salty.
    “No problem at all, ma’am. First question, what clients were you arranging the press conference for?”
    The words jerked her attention away from the lascivious journey her mind embarked on. Professionalism clanked into place.
    “I’m afraid I can’t answer that question, Agent Book. I signed a nondisclosure agreement with my client that stated quite categorically that I would not reveal their identities under any circumstances, prior to the launch of their campaign.”
    “I can get a warrant.” Book’s eyes narrowed, and the silken tone gave way to steel and maybe, just maybe, a hint of respect.
    “You can try.” Cassie knew that he could force the issue. Investigating terrorism meant that courts gave them a lot of leeway. But he would still have to take the time to get the warrant. Time she could use.
    “I’ll succeed.” Yes, the respect was there,