“This is insane.” Lora shoved away from the table and started pacing—long, fast strides. “If he’s going after folks who’ve broken the law…” The words ripped out. “What have I done?” She swung around to face Sam. “I haven’t killed. I haven’t sold drugs or slapped some poor woman around. I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“I think maybe…” Monica’s voice came slower. “You’ve committed the worst sin in his eyes.”

“The hell she has.” Kenton’s low snarl of fury.

Monica’s watchful gaze drifted between them. “You’re trying to stop his judgments, Lora.”

His judgments? Screams echoed in her ears.

Her screams.

“Lora…”

She flinched.

Kenton was there, in front of her and staring at her with worried eyes.

She pushed past him, shaking her head. She needed to get out. To breathe. Lora had to get away from those pictures on the table.

Her hand slammed against the door, and she stormed out with her head down, ignoring Kenton’s urgent call.

She wanted this damn nightmare over. Huffing, she pushed past the cops and rushed for the exit.

“Lora, Lora! Stop!”

Right at the glass door, with freedom within sight, she stopped. Her hands pressed against the metal bar, ready to push it open. Go. But she glanced back.

“You can’t go alone.” Kenton’s jaw was clenched. “Come back, get some coffee, just—”

“There’s something I have to do.” Tension knotted her insides. Out. Go. A hard edge sharpened her senses.

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“I need to be alone, okay?” For this, she had to be.

“Lora, he’s watching you.”

Fuck him. Her hands slapped against the metal bar. The door opened, and hot air hit her in the face.

Breathe.

Yeah, she could still breathe, because she was alive. Others weren’t that lucky.

“You don’t have a car.”

The slightly amused voice stopped her at the bottom of the steps. Lora swiped away a stupid tear that had fallen on her cheek.

“If you don’t have a car,” Ramirez’s deep voice floated from behind her, “how are you planning to get out of here?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat but didn’t glance back. “I thought I’d steal a patrol car.”

His laugh came, quick and hard. She did look back then and saw that the darkness in his eyes had lightened a little. “You probably would,” he murmured.

Hot-wiring was a talent that she’d picked up at sixteen, courtesy of Ben. The guy had been car crazy—which was probably why he owned two garages now.

“Or,” Ramirez held up a set of keys, “you could take my car and let me come with you.”

Those keys were tempting. Because when she’d stormed out, she hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly. Just get away.

“I won’t ask questions. You won’t even know I’m with you.” But he would be with her. A guard.

“Kenton sent you.” Her protective custody.

No answer.

She turned and stared at the street before her, barely seeing the swirl of traffic and all the black-and-white cop cars. Behind her, Ramirez just waited. “If I tell you no, you’re just going to follow me, aren’t you?”

“Since you don’t have a car, that followin’ is gonna be real easy.” Wait—was that a Texas drawl?

Lora sighed. “Fine. Come on, but I’m driving.”

He jumped down the steps and tossed the keys her way.

She snatched them out of the air.

“Fair enough.” Dark eyes studied her. “Where we going?”

Her fingers tightened. “I thought you weren’t asking questions.”

“That was my only one.”

Right.

“I need to see someone.” She’d run because she had to talk to him. Kenton—Kenton was overwhelming her. She couldn’t see past him sometimes. She didn’t know what the future held, and the past was starting to get so blurry.

She pressed the unlock button on the key chain. A black sedan flashed its lights. “Don’t worry, he’s not too far away,” she told him, but the words were such a lie. He’d gotten farther away every day.

Kenton watched them through the glass. Lora and Jon climbed into the car. Lora was driving. Figured. And Jon, well, it was odd, but the guy was almost smiling.

The sedan pulled away from the curb.

“It’s a real bitch when the case gets personal, isn’t it?” Luke Dante murmured.

Kenton ran a hand over his face and turned to study the blond agent. “Yeah, it is.” He tried to push back the fury. “I want him stopped.”

Luke’s lips curled. “Nah, what you want is him dead. But we’re the good guys, so we’re not supposed to actually say that, are we?” His green eyes were a little too knowing.

The guy had been spending way too much time with Monica. “I don’t need to be profiled.” Kenton stalked back into Interrogation.

Of course, Luke followed him. “Why not? Sounds to me like that’s exactly what Phoenix has done to you.”

That froze him.

“He’s found your weak spot,” Luke continued. “He’s taunting you with it, with her. Putting her in danger—not killing her, because that would end the game, but letting you know that if he wanted, he could get to her.”

Kenton’s stare met Monica’s. Her eyes had widened just a bit when she heard Luke’s voice.

Kenton took a deep breath and shoved the image of tear-filled golden eyes from his mind. Focus. Control. He’d seen Monica do this dozens of time. Bring on the ice. Think about the case. Ignore the emotion.

Sometimes, it was so damn hard to put on the mask.

Kenton cleared his throat. “So our vics,” except for the firefighters, “were criminals.” Maybe not convicted, but the perp had still known. How? That was question one. How had the guy known the people were guilty?

The door closed behind him with a soft click. He glanced at the faces around him. No emotion showed on Monica’s calm face, but Sam appeared to be teetering on the edge, struggling to hold her calm. Luke… ah, that guy was a puzzle. Sometimes he seemed wild on the outside, almost careless, but his real problem was that he cared too much.

Maybe it was a good thing that Lora was gone. He wouldn’t have been able to tell her this part anyway.

“I think we all know,” he said quietly, “that some cops can go bad.”

Sam flinched.

“The arresting officer,” for those who had been arrested, “I want his name. I want the names of all the officers involved in these cases.” Someone wanting justice? Yeah, that sure sounded like a cop to him. If the system fails, sometimes, you have to take justice into your own hands.

“Th-there’s one name that came up a few times.” Sam’s voice was soft, but clear. “He was on the scene of Skofield’s drunk-driving accident, and he arrested Tom Hatchen.”

“Who.”

“Peter Malone.”

Malone? Fuck. “He was right here.” In this very room. “When I questioned Larry Powell, he was right here.” And wasn’t it damn easy to eliminate a witness when you knew everything about the guy?

Three connections.

“Malone also busted Jerome a few years back, when he was working Vice.”

Four.

And they’d assigned the guy the task of digging into the victims’ lives. They’d wanted Malone to find the connection between them—when he was the f**king connection.

Kenton’s fingers slowly unclenched. “Let’s get him in here.” It was time for the cop to sit on the other side of the table.

• • •

They stopped at the old wrought-iron gates of the cemetery. Lora hated this place. When she’d been younger, her mother had brought her here for every holiday. They’d come with red roses and her mother had put them on her father’s grave even as the tears trickled down her cheeks.

Christmas. Valentine’s. Birthdays.

“You can watch me from the car.” She killed the engine. “But don’t even think about following me any closer.”

Ramirez didn’t say anything as she jumped out and slammed the door behind her.

It was hot in Virginia at this time of the year, so why were goosebumps rising on her arms? She hurried past the gate and heard the groan of the iron when her shoulder brushed against the metal.

In moments, she was beneath the big oak and sheltered under its wide branches. She stopped there and stared down at him.

Carter smiled back at her. He was dressed in his uniform and a wide grin curved his lips. Frozen forever in that picture, he looked perfect, young, happy.

The stupid tears came back, and she hated crying. Tears didn’t change anything. Never would.

“I’m sorry, Carter.” Her whisper came on a sigh. He’d been her best friend. From the day she’d walked into station number eleven, he’d been there with his easygoing grin and laughing blue eyes. They’d been friends for so long, then slipped into being lovers. She’d loved him. No, the feelings hadn’t been wild and desperate, but there had been love. He knew it. He’d died knowing it.

But now, when she closed her eyes, she didn’t see Carter anymore.

She saw Kenton.

And that scared the hell out of her.

Because it forced her to accept that Carter was gone. It had taken some time, some long nights, but her heart was finally realizing that fact.

“We’re going to stop him, Carter. We’re going to catch the bastard, and he won’t hurt anyone else.” A teardrop fell onto her clenched hands. “I–I miss you.”

Silence.

The rustle of leaves.

Nothing more.

Lora realized that there wasn’t anything else to say.

Her shoulders straightened as she headed back to the vehicle. Ramirez watched her through his window.

“No questions.” She climbed in beside him.

His fingers drummed on the dashboard.

Lora cranked the engine and shot the car into reverse.

“Once upon a time…” His voice came, without inflection, easy as you please. “The woman I loved went into a bank. When she came out, a man had a knife at her throat.”

She slammed on the brakes and stared at him.

He didn’t look at her.

“He’d robbed the bank, but I bet you figured that.” His fingers drummed again. “I was the sniper. They—they put me on the roof, with orders to take him out. I looked through my scope, I saw her, and I hesitated.”

“Jon…”

“I could have taken the shot and blown the a**hole’s brains right out, but I wasn’t expecting her.” There was still no inflection in his voice. “I hesitated, and he slit her throat. Her mouth was open, I saw her lips move—she said my name. The last thing she ever said was my name.”

Lora sucked in a breath. “What did you do?”

“I put a bullet between his eyes.” His fingers stopped drumming. “I took that f**king shot.” He turned his head and his eyes met hers. “But she was still dead.” A long sigh eased from him. “We can put a damn gun to our heads and pull the trigger and get in that grave with them, if that’s what we really want.”

She’d never wanted that.

“Or we can keep living. We can try to find something worth living for.”

“What do you live for?” she asked him, almost afraid to find out.

But he just smiled, a sad, twisted smile, and she knew there’d be no answer to that question.

“You were living for revenge, weren’t you, Spade?” he tossed out instead. “But that doesn’t keep you warm at night, does it?”

“I don’t want to crawl into the grave.” The cemetery waited in front of her. “But I just… I don’t want that pain again.”

“Ah, babe, don’t you get it? There’s always pain. That’s how you know you’re living.”

Maybe. But why did living have to hurt? “I’m not scared of fire. I’m not scared of putting my life on the line.” She did it every day, yet in the quiet of the car, she found that she could be brutally honest with this stranger as she said, “But I’m scared to death of Kenton.”

Silence. Then he asked, “Are you really scared of him, or of yourself?”

I’m scared of the way I feel. She was losing control. Getting in too deep. Caring too much.

What if he just walked away? When the case was over, would he just go back to his job in D.C. and leave her behind?

I’m scared of myself.

Lora checked the road. She didn’t speak but she did start driving.

Monica waited until Kenton had left the Interrogation room before she crept closer to Sam. “Are you all right?”

Sam gave a quick nod. “Fine.”

No, the woman was really far from fine. “You don’t have to be here. We can work this case without you. We have enough manpower.”

“It’s my job.” Intensity filled her words. “I can do my job. I will do my job.”

Monica wished Hyde had talked to her about this first. No way was Sam ready to be back in the field.

Sam inched away. “If you’re worried about me messing up—”

“I’m not.” Breaking, splintering beyond repair, that was more of a worry.

“Don’t be,” Sam said, rolling right over the words, her voice trembling. “I made a mistake before, but it won’t happen again.”