My partner answered the phone on the second ring. He'd been dozing in the passenger seat; it was amazing how quickly Bobby composed himself.
"No, sir," he said, rubbing his eyes, "we're not there yet." He glanced at me.
"Twenty minutes more," I whispered. He repeated it to the captain.
"Oh." His eyes widened. Something big had happened. "When? ...So, should we-? ...Yes, sir."
"Let me guess," I said after he'd hung up. "Turn around and drive three hours back home."
"Yeah. Crespo picked a fight at Rikers; he was killed."
No need to interview Crespo's PO in Binghamton now. I groaned. "If I don't get out of this car soon my neck will snap."
"Let's stop to eat. Do you want a back rub?"
.