"Don't. Not on the phone."
On the screen, she unzipped the pocket again, and looked, and zipped it closed.
"He'll get a class, Lyndon. He's fifteen, it's his first time, his mother's a nurse, he'll get diversion. Cade's eighteen in January. Cade would go to prison."
A pause, and the tinny voice, very low: "I know what Cade would get."
On the screen she smoothed the flap of the backpack with her gloved palm.
"Well, it's done now. Go to bed."
The door closed. The back seat was gray and empty except for the backpack. Eleven seconds of nothing. The screen went blue.
Nobody said anything.
The radiator under the window ticked. Somewhere downstairs a copier was running. Deputy Saldana, at the end of the table, had put one big hand flat over his mouth and was looking at Lyndon Harrower with an expression I've only otherwise seen on surgeons who've just been told the wrong patient was prepped. Dr. Pemberton had pushed her chair back from the table about a foot, without seeming to know she'd done it.
Bobbie still hadn't moved. The paper cup in her hand had folded in on itself, slowly, completely, crushed flat, and she didn't seem to have noticed that either.
Lyndon spoke first. "That's—" he said. His voice came out wrong, too high, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "That recording is obviously edited. I want it noted that the district objects, and I want to consult with the union before I answer any—"
"Mr. Harrower." Detective Okonjo stood up. She put her coffee cup down carefully on the floor beside her chair. "The phone records for Mrs. Tillotson's cell show an outgoing call at 11:49 p.m. on October 7th to a number ending in 4471, lasting eleven minutes and twelve seconds. Your district personnel file lists that number as your personal cell. The district's anonymous tip app logs the IP address of each submission. The tip about Isidore Mavrides came from the IP address assigned to the Wi-Fi network at 9 Finch Hollow Lane, Larkhaven Commons. That's the residence of Roberta Tillotson, where you also live. We obtained those records under warrant on Monday." She said it all in the same level voice, like someone reading a grocery list. "You're not under arrest at this moment. But I'd like you to stay in this room until I've finished speaking with Mr. Lyall. And I'd strongly encourage you to call a lawyer rather than the union."