We had embraced briefly back at her lab, then got in the car and hightailed it over here as fast as we could. Annalisa sat for a moment, Julie Patchouli’s ID card in one hand, her patchouli on the other. She tucked the ID into her shirt pocket and slipped out of the car without a word. As soon as she left, I slumped down in my seat, the need to appear strong having left with Annalisa. She startled me when she opened the car door just a few seconds later. “She’s gone,” she said as she got in, the car filling with the faint but distinct smell of patchouli. “What?” “We’re too late. We missed her. She’s gone.” “Did you leave the card anyway?” “What do you mean?” “I mean did you leave the card there? She could have dropped it while she was getting dressed, right?” She stared at me for a moment, thinking. Then she turned away. “I can’t go back in there now—they’re locking up. I’ll have to try to return the card tomorrow.” Her hands trembled as she fastened her seat belt.
