Lindsay Yin and Tony Bradstreet had died on a Thursday. By the following Tuesday, Dan Gray had become a household name, at least in the city of Seattle. It had taken them two days to go through the scene, and every minute of it was scryed out on camera. NewsNetNow, which had been happy to wait for Gray to call them that evening, had not been happy to spend that time ignoring him; whatever deal it had made with Murdock and Bradstreet that afternoon, it had kept the press off the site.
It did not, however, keep them from watching. Once Gray had torn off for the Donner Gallery, they’d sent a flyer in to watch from above; the whole thing had been witnessed, the officers going in, Kate running back outside to call for backup, puking behind her car, and then Gray’s wooden, stumbling exit from the building after shooting Yin in the face. He had watched himself on television a hundred times since then, how he slumped gray-faced on the curb and looked as though he were lost to the world until Kate had come out and collapsed next to him. Gray hadn’t remembered it, but he had held her while she cried. Her flirting had apparently been a nervous action and nothing serious, because she and Bradstreet had secretly been lovers for years. Kate was about to quit Civil Protection, in fact, because they had recently discovered that she was two months pregnant. She had lost the man she wanted to be her husband, and because she had fraternized with her partner - her subordinate - she was also going to lose her career. The whole thing was a goddamned mess, and Gray was sick that Kate and Bradstreet had been dragged into it. For local markets, who were growing tired of fireworks and Tricentennial jingoism, it had been the best television all year. They had no problem making her into an unethical harpy that had destroyed the lives of three different people, and Civil Protection was going to make an example out of her.