Status Updates From Scheme

It was on this device that she’d spent hours upon hours composing and rewriting the poems that were key to her scheme.

This was the left-brain side of her—the scientist, the mathematician, the engineer—viewing Sloan. Different from the other side—the right brain, the heart, some said—in which thoughts of the detective were also firmly seated.

But Sloan heard, in his imagination, each clicking second as the IED, somewhere in the endangered city of Middleton, counted down to detonation.

Ciara sat down and pulled her Dell from her bag. She booted up the computer and MiFi, then leaned forward, typing quickly. Her eyes were narrowed, focused, and Sloan again reflected that her pose and expression reminded him of himself in the field.

So we have a police department looking for a bomber who is sending them poetry. So they look up a college professor who teaches poetry. A strange combination of issues and experiences! Is this woman professor going to lead the detective into romance as well as finding the bomber/poet? I don’t watch soap operas so I don’t know if this is in that category.

Danny Pérez walked up. In honor of the poet, he’d not only rolled down his sleeves but had buttoned his vest. Sloan knew of no other cops who still wore three-piece suits. Today, the man’s was light blue. That you didn’t see much either.

“Published before?” “No.” Sloan had googled this poem too. Nothing. They were both homemade.

“Published before?” “No.” Sloan had googled this poem too. Nothing. They were both homemade.

A gruff one hour thriller, just to see what it might be like. No great expectations.