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ADA Lefcourt, perhaps? It was possible. But he didn’t think she had the knuckles for the knock he was hearing.

For a moment, he thought it might be the chief, but he doubted that Reardon would come down to Darwin Gardens for Gayle Burdett, no matter how much her husband contributed to politicians in town, not with something as toxic as a murder on her head.

Wade sat up, shirtless, grabbed his cell phone, and checked the time. It was almost 1:00 p.m.

“Hold on, I’m coming,” Wade said. “You don’t have to break it down.”

He found a pair of jogging shorts in a moving box, put them on, and went to the door, opening it to find a man standing there in a wrinkled off?the?rack suit, his hair colored an unnatural shade of brown, his thin body curled inward as if he’d taken a blow to the stomach that he’d never recovered from.

It was Detective Harry Shrake. It wasn’t someone he’d expected to see, but as Wade considered Reardon’s options, sending Harry down actually made a lot of sense. Harry was the perfect ambassador, someone who Wade knew well, and presumably trusted, but who was on nobody’s radar outside of the department and barely registered a political blip within it.

“Afternoon, Harry,” Wade said. “Come on in.”

Harry stepped in and surveyed the apartment as if it were a particularly unpleasant crime scene. His gaze flitted over the yellowed walls, the moving boxes, the mattress, the newspapers on the window, the bra on the floor.

“Working nights, sleeping days, it’s just like when we were rookies,” Harry said. “Of course, it’s easier when you’re in your twenties.”

Wade noticed that even Harry’s eyebrows were colored. He’d never known Harry to be vain, so he figured it probably had more to do with trying to appear younger and more vital to the bureaucrats who handed out promotions.

And Harry was only thirty?eight.

“It’s not so much the lack of sleep that’s getting to me, Harry. The duty belts weigh a ton now. It’s hell on my lower back.”

“And look at how you’re living.” Harry went to the window, lifted the edge of newspaper that covered it, and peeked outside. “And where. Jesus, Tom, how much worse can it get? Why don’t you just call it quits already?”

“Is that why you’re here, Harry? To talk me into going away?”

Harry turned around and looked Wade in the eye. “I’m here because I’m taking over the Glory Littleton homicide investigation.”

“The one you didn’t want to touch when I called you about the body,” Wade said. “Good timing, though, jumping on it now that it’s solved. It won’t cut too much into your workload.”

“I’m bringing Gayle Burdett back downtown with me. She’ll be booked there.”

Wade was still sleepy, but not so much that he couldn’t see the political chess moves being played on the King City board.

“So you’ll be recorded as the arresting officer,” Wade said.

Harry shrugged. “I’m a homicide detective, you’re a beat cop. That’s how it goes.”

“More importantly, it goes down as a Meston Heights arrest and Darwin Gardens never has to be mentioned,” Wade said. “That’s assuming nobody took any pictures this morning when I brought her in, or posted them on the Internet.”

Which, of course, Wade was certain that at least some people had done.

Harry shook his head. “That perp walk for the scum on Division Street was a bad call.”

“It’s no worse than doing it for the media outside police headquarters.”

“You might think occasionally about doing what’s best for the city instead of what serves your personal crusade.”

“The people down here need to know that the law works for them too.”

“No, they don’t,” Harry said. “Because they don’t give a shit. They aren’t the ones who pay the taxes that keep this city running. Or who fund the campaigns and cast the votes that put people in office.”

“You’re right,” Wade said. “They’re just the ones we’re supposed to protect and serve.”

Harry Shrake sighed and shook his head. “Now you know why you’re here and you’re alone and your back aches.”

“Maybe so, but at least I can look at myself in the mirror,” Wade said, opening the door for his former partner. “And not just because I’m wondering what shade of crap my eyebrows are.”

Wade knew it was a cheap shot, but it felt good to say it anyway. He closed the door on Harry and went back to bed.

He slept until 8:00 p.m. and it felt like a luxury, one he’d earned by closing the Glory Littleton case. The six hours of sleep-eight if he threw in the snooze he got before Harry Shrake’s visit-had reinvigorated his mind and body. He hadn’t felt this alert in days.

He showered and shaved, put on his uniform, then went to his kitchen.

On his way home from New King City on Saturday, he’d stopped and bought himself some paper plates, two cereal bowls, an assortment of plastic utensils, a hundred disposable cups, and two bags of groceries.

Now he filled one of his bowls with Grape?Nuts, poured a little milk over it, and ate his dinner at the counter.

It was his first meal in his new apartment, and he liked it fine.

He used the few moments of solitude and clarity to think, going over the events of the previous day. And when he did, he saw something that he’d missed before.

Actually, he hadn’t missed it. He’d seen it clearly. But it hadn’t sparked the connections that it did now. And with that realization came a surprising sadness.

He wished he didn’t have to do what he had to do.

But there was no hurry.

When he’d finished eating, he washed out his bowl, threw away the spoon, and went downstairs to work.

As Wade came into the station, he saw Charlotte and Billy at their desks, glowering at him. It seemed like the only thing his two officers could both agree on was their bewilderment or anger over his actions.

“You two have something you want to say?” Wade asked, facing them.

Billy spoke up first. Wade had expected Charlotte to take the lead. She seemed to enjoy chastising him.

“You let that asshole from Homicide make the collar and get all the credit for solving Glory Littleton’s murder,” Billy said. “That was our case.”

“What matters is that her killer got caught,” Wade said. “We aren’t doing this for accolades.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Billy said. “You’re at the end of your career.”

“Gee, thanks,” Wade said.

“The only way the two of us are getting out of here is if we can rack up some major arrests,” Charlotte said, taking a more diplomatic approach.

“You haven’t even been here a week and already you’re planning your exit strategy?”

“We just don’t want you giving the good stuff away,” Charlotte said. “We’d like to get out of these uniforms someday.”

“I’d like to get you out of yours today,” Billy said.

“Pig,” Charlotte said.

Looking at it from their position, Wade could understand their anger. They had careers to build, while he was way past caring about his. For him, it was about honoring his core principles. For them, it was about finding their way. Their objections weren’t out of line.

“Fair enough,” he said. “In the future, before I make a decision, I’ll try to take into consideration what the unintended consequences might be for your careers.”

“You might consider doing the same thing for your own,” Charlotte said.

He shook his head. “Never have, never will.”

“Remind me not to ask you for career advice,” Billy said. “Hey, about that Lewinsky thing, was that the truth?”

“Yes, President Clinton had an affair with Monica Lewinsky,” Wade said.

“No, I meant about the jizz being on Glory Littleton’s panties,” Billy said.

Wade shrugged. “It could be. I don’t know.”

“You lied,” Billy said.

“I speculated,” Wade said.

“I wish I could have been there for the takedown,” Charlotte said. “I feel like I missed out on everything.”

“That’s because you work nights,” Billy said. “The day shift is where the real police work is done.”