Interlude
Through the window in Captain Callahan’s office, Natalie watches Reese confer with his public defender in a nearby conference room. The lawyer, a twenty-something man named Symonds with a haircut five years out of style and a briefcase that looks like it came from a yard sale, oozes disingenuousness. With the doors closed, she can’t hear what they’re saying, but judging by the despondent expression on Reese’s face, he’s sobered up enough to realize just how deep a s**t-pile he’s in.
Captain Callahan enters, sans his jacket. “Detective.”
“Cap,” she replies.
“I don’t suppose Mr. Reese has decided to save the state the cost of a trial and confessed?”
“Not hardly. Says he has no idea where Chrissy is, never went to Ingram’s house, totally innocent, yada yada.”
“Does he have an
