Ben shrugged. “I just did what any-”

“And I probably shouldn’t personalize this, because I know that a lot of it is just that you’re a good, generous person. That all-too-rare breed. But I also like to think that-on some level-we’re friends.” He paused. “And that’s why I want you to be there. When it happens. Will you do that for me?”

Never in his life did Ben recall it being so difficult to speak. “If that’s what you want, Ray.”

“It is. And here’s the really horrible part-would you ask Christina if she’ll take the third chair? I know it’s dreadful, asking another woman to go through that. But I don’t know who else to ask.”

“What about your parents?”

“Long gone. My conviction killed them. It really did. I used to fantasize about the celebration we’d have when I was released. When my innocence was proven. But they didn’t live to see it.” His eyes fell. “And now it looks as though I won’t, either.”

“Friends?”

“After seven years in the pen? I don’t know from friends. Long gone. Unless you include my fellow inmates. A cockroach I’m particularly fond of. But they wouldn’t be allowed in.”

“Ray… I can ask Christina, but I can’t guarantee-”

“Sure. I just know that she’s worked on this case, too, long and hard, and I appreciate it. I’d like to show my appreciation. And the pathetic truth is-this is the only means left to me. So it’s important.”

Ben drew up his shoulders. “Then we’ll be there,” he said, even though he thought it was the most horrible potentiality he had ever contemplated. “Certainly I will be. And I think Christina will be, too.”

“And Carrie?”

“I’ll ask her.”

Ray nodded his head. “If she does refuse, Ben, at least-tell her I love her, okay? Tell her I never stopped loving her. I don’t want her to feel guilty. I just want her to know. Okay?”

“I’ll tell her,” Ben said. His voice was hoarse, and it had a noticeable catch.

“I’m so tired.” As his eyes turned downward, Ben sensed that Ray would end it all right then and there if the power were given to him. “So tired.”

Ben felt a sharp stinging sensation in his eyes, and he knew if their conversation continued much longer, they would both be crying. “I’d better go now. I’ve got a lot to do.”

Ray nodded, and when his head rose again, he said the three words Ben most dreaded to hear. “See you Monday.”

Ben drove all the way back to Tulsa steering with one arm, hugging himself with the other. But he couldn’t seem to get warm.

Mike was about ready to scream. He hated paperwork, hated research most of all. And he was buried in it. Was buried and had been buried for more hours than he cared to count. It was a beautiful day out, best in weeks, perfect tennis weather. But instead of being out on the courts or perched on the patio at Crow Creek sipping a tall cool one, he was stuck at a desk piled so high with books that Baxter didn’t even see him when she first walked in.

“Can I safely assume these are all poetry books?” Baxter asked, after she finally located him.

Mike gave her a wry look. “Reference books. Of every kind imaginable.” It occurred to him that she was looking particularly attractive this morning-not that she had ever not looked attractive. Had she done something to her hair?

Baxter scanned the desktop. “You’re trying to trace that key chain, aren’t you?”

“You win the Daily Double.” Mike lifted a small baggie that held the elusive bit of evidence. “My gut tells me that whoever killed Sheila Knight left this behind. But I can’t figure out what it is.”

Baxter stared at it, as she had done more or less constantly since they discovered it. “The frustrating thing is, I know I’ve seen it before.”

“I have the same feeling. But I can’t remember what it is. I even showed it around the office. And everyone says the same thing. Yeah, that looks familiar. But no one remembers what it is.”

“What are those curvy things in the middle? Wings?”

“I thought they were hearts.”

“They can’t be hearts. They’re flat on the bottom. Both of them. And why are they drawn so… wispy?” She dropped it back onto the desk. “It’s like a Rorschach test, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. When you don’t know what it’s supposed to be, it looks like everything. Or nothing. That’s why I’ve been poring through every pictorial reference I could lay my hands on. And I’ve sent Penelope to the library for more. When you don’t know what you’re looking for-you look at everything.”

“Sounds like a needle-haystack deal.”

“It is.” Mike pushed away from the desk and stretched. “But if I could place that design, I might trace it back to our murderer.”

“About that.” Baxter suddenly seemed nervous, edgy. “I wanted to thank you. For what you did.”

“For what I did?” There wasn’t much room in the cubicle, especially at present. She was standing barely a foot away. Another time, he might complain about cops who invaded his personal space. But at the moment…

“In Blackwell’s office. When you… you know. Stood up for me. I really appreciate it.”

Mike waved a hand in the air. “I was just correcting my own mistake. It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. It was something. A big something. You didn’t have to do it. Certainly not the way you did. It…” She began fidgeting with her fingernails. “It meant a lot to me.”

Mike shrugged. “Forget about it.” Was she wearing some kind of perfume? Because now that he was up close, it seemed as if she was wearing some kind of perfume.

“Can we talk about the other night? The stakeout, I mean. When we were in the car.”

“Stop beating yourself up about that, Baxter. We had no way of knowing that some killer would-”

“That’s not what I meant.” She averted her eyes. “Could we talk about us? What happened.” Her hand brushed against her lips.

“Oh. That.” Was Penelope messing with the thermostat again? Because it definitely seemed hotter in here. Much hotter than usual. “Sure. If you want to.”

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. Ever since we… you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Mike shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, maybe I have. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… you know… kind of…”

“Awkward.”

“Yeah. Awkward.” Now he was fidgeting.

“I’ve felt the same way. But we can’t go on being partners if we can’t even look at one another.”

“That’s true.”

“I mean, we’ve got to finish this case. But after that…”

“Yeah?”

“After that, maybe we should apply for a transfer. I think Blackwell would allow it now. Particularly if we both requested it.”

For some reason, Mike couldn’t think of anything remotely intelligent to say. “Yeah. I think he probably would.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Yeah. I mean, right.” He looked up. “Is that what you want?”

“I asked you first.”

Mike frowned. “Now this is a bit childish.”

“I did. I asked you first.”

“I asked you second. So?”

Baxter let out a long exhale. “I have another request.”

It was amazing what she did with her mouth when she was nervous. That cute little half-pout thing. How had he never noticed that before? “And that is?”

“Don’t tell any of the other guys on the force. About what happened. Between us, I mean.”

“Of course not. I would never…”

“Stand around in the canteen with the other guys making rude remarks about a female officer? Perish the thought.”

Mike tugged at his collar. “I apologized for that.”

“Actually, you haven’t.”

“Well, then I apologize for that. It won’t happen again.”

“You won’t tell anyone?”

His neck stiffened. “What, are you ashamed of it?”

“You know what would happen, if word got around. They’d makes jokes, give me some trashy nickname. Start treating me like I was some kind of tramp.”