They spoke little for the remainder of the drive. It was, somehow, a restful quietness.
It was broken when they stepped from the car. Another news rack faced them, with ARREST FATHER, SON FOR LOMBARDI MURDER staggering across the page.
Corinna drew a gasp. She snatched Kintyre's hand with fingers that were suddenly cold. "Santa Maria," she mumbled.
He steadied her. "Easy, there," he said.
"I knew it." Her voice came saw-toothed. "I knew it was them. What does it say?"
He bent over the page. "Not much more than that. Picked up this afternoon on suspicion, father and son. No details."
"It'll be out tomorrow. Everything. And then the trial."
"I thought you were all for this," he said. "You were convinced of their guilt and—"
"I wasn't thinking. I was only hurt, and tired. No, I don't want it to be this way." Slowly, she stiffened herself. "But so be it, then. Can I have a drink?"
"You can have more than that." He steered her along the sidewalk. She still moved a little unsurely. "You can have the news I mainly came to give you."