“Yeah.” Colin nodded. He saw no point in gloating. He didn’t want to gloat. He wanted to cry, and he couldn’t do that, either. He wondered if Caroline Pitcavage would be able to cry when she found out. That would be for later. More collateral damage, he thought miserably.
“Lieutenant, I’ve been kind of mad at you since . . . since . . . Well, you know since when,” Schneider said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry as hell. It wasn’t your fault, not in any bad way.” He held out a hesitant hand.
Colin took it. “Thanks, Neil. Don’t worry about it. I know how you felt. Lord, I felt the same way myself half the time. I did.” His voice hardened. “But I sure don’t any more.”
“I hope not! Neither do I. Neither will anybody, once I talk to a few people and they talk to some people, too. But I wanted to come to you first.”
“Well, thanks. Some of them won’t want to believe you, you know.”
“Hey, I didn’t want to believe Lucy, either. Who would? But there’s the DNA.”
“Uh-huh. There’s the DNA. I still don’t want to believe it. It all fits together too well not to, though,” Colin said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” With some effort, Schneider got to his feet. As he’d said he would, he started talking to people. Some of them did believe him. Some stormed off to the lab to see if he was making it up. Some who’d been angry at Colin came over to his desk to apologize—some, but not all. Well, in a world full of human beings, that was as much as you could hope for.
Not quite half an hour after Sergeant Schneider started spreading the word, Colin’s phone rang. “Grab that for me, will you, Josie?” he called—he was talking with two cops and a secretary.
“Sure thing,” she answered proudly. She’d been on the right side all along. A moment later, she said, “Lieutenant, it’s a reporter from Channel Two. He wants to talk to you. Right away, he says.” By her expression, she was trying to tell him it wasn’t her fault.
Colin knew that—not that it would help. He sighed one more time. “Thanks, Josie. Put him through.” Yes, it was beginning.