Page 59 of Second Alarm
"I'm being thorough. If you're going to be a criminal, Ty, you should at least be a well-organized one."
"We aren't — "
"A knock pattern. Three plus two plus one."
"I can't keep track of that."
"Fine. One knock means clear. Two means wait."
"Okay."
"Done. Memorize it."
"I will. Out."
"I'm going."
"Hanna."
"What."
He kisses me — quick, entirely out of proportion with a pitch-black closet at Station 7, the kind of kiss that fits a person saying goodbye at a front door in a good mood. It's outrageous. I love him for it. I open the door and step out into the hallway.
Cal isn't in the hallway, but Gemma is.
"Oh," I say.
"Hi, Hanna." Gemma's voice is perfectly pleasant. "Were you looking for pillowcases?"
"Yes."
"Did you find the pillowcases?"
"I did."
"Great. I was going to grab one myself. Deluca had a nose thing."
"A nose thing."
"Yeah, he — it's a whole — he's fine. You don't want to know. Do you need help carrying the pillowcases you definitely got?"
I look at her. Gemma's face is full of the particular careful neutrality of a woman not quite looking at the closet door, which has just swung open a second time behind me, because Ty is now exiting, and Gemma is politely not acknowledging this sequence of events.
"I'm good."
"Okay."
"Gemma." I lower my voice.
"Hanna." She reaches past me into the closet, selects a single pillowcase, and drapes it over her shoulder. "I'm going to go take care of Deluca's nose. I didn't see anything. I don't know anything. If you want me to not know anything, I'll never know anything. If you want me to know something, I'm an excellent knower. Up to you."
She turns and walks down the hallway.
Ty is three feet behind me. I turn and look at him.
"That," I say, "was almost a disaster."
"That was a disaster."
