Wieder paused again and raised his eyebrows at me. He reminded me of every sanctimonious prick I’ve ever met—the ones who don’t even try to hide how much they enjoy their own power.

“So let me ask you,” he said. “You’re an experienced detective. What conclusion would you draw if you were sitting on my side of the table?”

“If I were you?” I said. “I’d be asking myself why Ron Guidice is writing those articles in the first place. And I might be thinking—isn’t this exactly what someone like him would like to see happen?”

The two investigators looked at each other.

“With all due respect, detective, that sounds like conspiracy theory to me,” Wieder said, closing his file.

The gesture wasn’t lost on me. These two weren’t even interested in my story. They’d already interviewed their witnesses, they’d built their narrative, and this meeting was just—what? A formality? A necessary step toward the indictment they so obviously wanted?

In which case, there was no reason for me to be here. I pushed my chair back, stood, and pounded on the interview room door.

“Excuse me—” Wieder said.

“You want to build a case against me, you can do it on your own goddamn time,” I said. “I’m ready to go back to my cell.”

It was time to lawyer up.

CHAPTER

61

AS SOON AS I WAS LED OUT OF THE INTERVIEW ROOM, I FOUND CHIEF PERKINS waiting there in the hall. Not exactly the last person I might have expected—but not the first, either.

“Chief?”

“Come on,” he told me and signaled to the duty officer that he’d take over from here.

Instead of heading back to the cell block, we walked around the corner, through a locked door, and out to the main elevator bank.

“Where are we going?” I said.

“You’ve been released,” he told me. “The press has gotten their pound of flesh.”

“What?” I wasn’t following. “Did Bree post bail?”

The chief’s features were set hard while he avoided my eyes. This wasn’t easy for him.

“I’m just doing what I can, Alex.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Perkins could have kept me from getting thrown into the cell block in the first place. Now, it seemed, he was pulling strings to save me from any more time down there.

“Thanks,” I told him. “I guess.” He didn’t question my response, or say anything else until we were alone on the elevator. It was a strange vibe I was getting.

“Huizenga is expecting you back at the office. We’ve got you on noncontact status for the time being,” he told me.

“Noncontact?” I said.

Whatever relief I’d been feeling had just been cut in half. Noncontact means that you come into work every day, sit at a desk, and answer the phones, or do the filing, or any of a hundred other things nobody else wants to do.

It also meant I was removed from all investigative duties at a time when the squad could least afford it.

“I don’t suppose I can appeal to your better judgment,” I said. “We’ve never been busier.”

“Believe me, I wish you could,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not out of the woods yet. You’ve still got these charges against you. If the US Attorney’s Office decides to hand down an indictment, then it’s out of my hands.”

“As far as I can tell, Internal Affairs is gunning for it,” I said.

“If the mayor had his way, you’d be sitting home without a paycheck. And not because he doesn’t like you,” Perkins said. “Dammit, Alex, I don’t believe that druggie horseshit for a second—but I wish to hell you hadn’t hit that guy.”

“He deserved it,” I said. “And then some.”

“No doubt,” the chief answered, just as the elevator doors opened onto the third-floor hall. “But that’s justice. This is politics.”

I think it might have been the most cynical thing I’ve ever heard from Perkins.

Which isn’t to say that it wasn’t also true.

CHAPTER

62

WHEN I WALKED INTO THE MAJOR CASE SQUAD OFFICE, I WASN’T EXPECTING much—a meeting with Sergeant Huizenga and a year’s worth of backlogged filing to do. What I found instead was more like a surprise party.

“Here he is!” Valente shouted as I came through the door. Suddenly, everyone was on their feet, either prairie dogging out of their cubicles or coming my way. All of them were applauding and cheering, and slapping me on the back. And all of them were wearing the same yellow T-shirts pulled over their shirts.

The T-shirts all said FREE ALEX CROSS. It felt like the first laugh I’d had in days.

“Got any new tattoos?” Valente asked, with an arm over my shoulder. Jarret Krause handed me a cup of coffee.

“Good to see you, Alex. Welcome back.”

“I wasn’t even gone,” I said.

“Close enough,” Valente told me.

The truth is, I was deeply touched by the whole thing. Lying in that cell all night, I had no way of knowing who stood behind me on this, and who didn’t. Now it seemed like a no-brainer. The Major Case crew is one of the best squads I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. They gave me exactly the response I would have hoped for and the same support I would have given any of them.

Then I saw Sergeant Huizenga. She was standing in the door of her office, watching me as I came in. She wasn’t smiling, and she wasn’t wearing one of the T-shirts, either. But I did notice that she looked like hell. She was also wearing the same blazer and pants as the day before. It didn’t look like Marti had gone home at all.

When I came into her office, the first thing she did was extend her hand across the desk.

“No hard feelings?” she asked.

I shook, gladly. “No hard feelings,” I said. If anything, I respected her for locking me up herself and not passing it off to someone else.

“Have a seat,” she told me. “We’ve got to do some technicalities here.”

She gave me two release forms to sign and then returned my personal effects, with the exception of my Glock. Then she ran down the particulars of Guidice’s restraining order. I wasn’t to come within five hundred feet of him for as long as the temporary restraining order was in effect. If that went through, and it became permanent, I’d be informed accordingly.

It was one of the strangest twists of right and wrong I’d seen in a while. All things considered, wasn’t it me who needed protection from Guidice?

“Have you seen the news?” Marti asked. “I think he gave a dozen ‘exclusive’ interviews last night. Plus, that goddamn blog of his.”

“I’m sorry about all this,” I said. “You’re going to be down an investigator for a while.”

“I don’t think I’ll be any worse off than you,” she said. “I can tell, just looking at your face.”

It was true. Maybe I was “free,” but I was still in a holding pattern. Cop purgatory.

“Now, why don’t you take the rest of the day off and go see your family?” Huizenga said.

“You sure?” I said. In fact, that’s exactly what I needed.

“I’m sure,” Marti told me, finally cracking a smile. “I think the filing can probably wait until tomorrow.”

CHAPTER

63

IT’S LESS THAN A TWO-MILE WALK FROM HEADQUARTERS TO OUR HOUSE, BUT Bree insisted on picking me up that morning. My car was still in Georgetown, and I’d have to go get it later. For now I just wanted to go home, shower, and give my family whatever they needed for the rest of the day. The kids would be in school until three fifteen, so there was plenty of time to regroup with Nana and Bree.

So I thought.

When I got into Bree’s white Explorer in front of the Daly Building, I expected her to be glad to see me but also still pissed about my arrest. What I got instead was tears.

She put her arms around me and we kissed. “Are you okay?” she said. I could see then how red her eyes were, and how long she’d been crying.