The drinking bird on Gabe’s desk bobbed into the cup it perched on. True to his word, the little trinket Noah gave him sat right next to it. The one Noah gave me sat proudly on my desk as well. Although Ethan hadn’t said so explicitly, I suspected that if we snooped around his lab, we’d find his present in a similar place of honor. On a regular day, we would be there already, but today we decided to mix it up and spend some time in our office.

  The neglected space had a layer of dust to show for it. Our precinct was a large building, as impressively vast as it was deserted. The expansive space was once a point of pride but these days it felt exposed instead of spacious. Rows of empty desks spread back into the area where maintenance staff no longer bothered to tend. Each abandoned row was highlighted by the dead lights above them.

  “Feels kinda lonely, doesn’t it?” I asked, leaning back against my desk.

  They hummed in agreement.

  “It’s best Dad didn’t live to see it,” Ethan muttered.

  Our father believed that he could change this place. He worked himself to the bone chasing that dream. His long hours were supposed to set a path towards a better tomorrow. Was it worth it? Only he knows, but he remembered these rooms being packed with busy people. For him, it looked like things were turning around. Ethan started working here before the two of us. He had three years on Gabe and four on me. He remembered when the restructuring began and the layoffs trickled in. What started as a trickle turned into a stream, and in only nine years, this building emptied itself out. We were part of a skeleton crew. If our father were here now, it would break his heart.

  “Eh, it’s not all bad,” Gabe said. “Wouldn’t mind more noise though.”

  “At least you have lots of legroom,” I said, gesturing to the armada of chairs he’d pulled out to prop up his feet on.

  “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he said, shrugging. “Besides, I wouldn’t give you guys up for a fucking armchair.”

  We chuckled in resignation. It weighed on us more than we were willing to admit. Even if we wouldn’t say the words out loud, all of us were wondering if the fight was still worth it. Fortunately, whenever we slowed down enough for the doubt to bubble up to the surface, there would always be work stacked up in front of us begging for our attention. Everyone in this city craved distraction; at least ours paid our bills.

  “Should I start with the good news or the bad news?” Ethan asked.

  “Flip a coin,” I sighed.

  Ethan pulled out a vintage coin from his pocket and flipped it in the air, catching it on the back of his hand. They didn’t make coins like that anymore, just like they didn’t make cops who believed in the system either. We were running on fumes with almost no support from our departments.

  “Heads,” he said. “Let’s start with the good news.”

  Chat logs filled the space between us, emanating from Ethan’s portable projector. The metallic disc rendered not one or even a dozen, but hundreds upon hundreds of chat logs. Thousands, maybe. They scrolled endlessly, their mirrored images ghosted faintly around us.

  “They left us a lot to work with,” he said. “I’ve run through Renner’s and Miller’s message history, and a mystery woman is the common denominator. Her speech patterns are consistent with both men. They’re the same person.”

  On one side, the logs showed the name Mercy, but the other side was listed as “hospitality.” Clever. If someone was snooping through his contacts, they would have assumed it was a business contact. It was easy enough to guess which was which. After all, only one of them was married. Renner had a wife to hide his infidelity from; Miller didn’t have anyone like that. For him, there was no reason to call her anything else.

  “Too bad for the missus,” Gabe said.

  Sometimes, hope was the last refuge of joy. Even if it coasted on naivete, I couldn’t fault her for holding onto her vision of her husband as a good man. After I found out what he was doing at the brothel, I dropped all pretenses of realism, but I still let hope in my chest glimmer. In harsh times, the least we could do was let flowers breathe in the dark.

  “At least she won’t have to know,” I muttered, eager to move on. “What’s the bad news?”

  Ethan leaned back, inspecting the device in his hand. Small panels opened and closed. Lights flickered. I wondered how much of it was necessary or an elaborate act to buy time. With a small click, he shut it off and stuffed it in his pocket.

  “We have more bodies,” he said.

  Bodies. Plural. So much for catching our breath. It was out of one disaster and onto the next.

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Three,” he said. “One by an alley and two by St. Mother Teresa’s.”

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  Sweat beaded on my brow. A chill ran down my back. Suddenly, I knew why Ethan was putting this off. St. Mother Teresa’s was more than a house of worship. It was the church Cassie went to and the parish Father Lewis served. Both of them were still fresh on my memory from our last case.

  “Tell me who,” I hissed.

  Two bodies. Two bodies that could have been either of the faces I remembered. Two bodies that could have been people completely innocent and undeserving cut down far too soon. The other victim was elsewhere, distant in my mind, but two bodies were where I remembered standing with people I cared for.

  “No,” he said. “No one we know.”

  I should have been relieved, but I wasn’t. In my experience, bad news always came with company. This wasn’t the end of it, and I knew better than to let down my guard.

  “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  There was no question that we needed to speak with Father Lewis again. The chances he knew something, even if not personally, could help us out in a big way. Gabe and I always went into the field together without extenuating circumstances. Considering he was standing next to me, looking as well as ever, I could rule out death, illness, and injury. There it was; our bad news had a friend. I knew it was bringing company the whole time.

  “Don’t tell me…” I said.

  There was only one other reason I wouldn’t have to take it. We had multiple deaths in two different locations and not enough manpower to call for help. That could only mean one thing: Ethan wanted us to split up.

  “We can’t waste time,” Ethan said. “If we fall behind, she wins.”

  “Thought we tied up those two,” Gabe said.

  “Not quite,” Ethan said. “Miller was an ordinary man with an expensive hobby. Renner was a specialist in cyber security.”

  Now it was starting to make more sense. Renner was a tech guy, and that wasn’t our domain; it was Ethan’s. On top of that, time erased evidence and dulled memories. With the old murders still to account for, we would all have to go into the field. Ethan would take the tech company, and Gabe and I would have to split up to check out the new crime scenes.

  “I set up a meeting with the start-up he worked at already. They’re expecting me there today. That just leaves you two,” he said.

  “I don’t like it,” I said. “We shouldn’t be going anywhere alone. Especially not you.”

  “I won’t get shot in an office,” Ethan said.

  “We could ask the Lieutenant for more people,” I said.

  He shook his head.

  “Not this time,” he sighed. “I already put in a request. She hasn’t even checked it. We’re on our own now.”

  I knew that the department was getting shafted and the number of personnel dropped every year, but this was ridiculous. The Lieutenant always came and went as her work demanded it, and when she wasn’t there we didn’t ask questions. These days she barely ever showed her face. I hadn’t seen her outside of briefings for months. It didn’t make sense to skip out on such a high-profile case. Something like this could even make headlines. Somehow, even a serial killer wasn’t giving us leverage.

  “I don’t want any of us out there alone,” I said, through gritted teeth.

  “We don’t have a choice,” Ethan said. “Don’t worry. We can handle ourselves, Lana. Just worry about yourself.”

  Logically, I agreed with him. Emotionally, I didn’t give a damn how capable they were. I didn’t like having control taken out of my hands. If Gabe was next to me and Ethan was in his lab, I could account for their safety. I could mark the little boxes in my head and be done with it. Having them elsewhere meant losing control. Screw voice chat. I didn’t trust what I couldn’t see. The last thing I wanted was to leave it up to chance.

  “We go solo sometimes,” Gabe said.

  “Not like this,” I muttered.

  Covering for each other was a part of the job. If it was dangerous enough, then we’d get a temporary partner, but most times we went out on our own. It never bothered me before. This time I could barely handle Gabe going solo. Ethan heading out too was throwing me for a loop. He never left his lab. It wasn’t his job. The only time he went to a crime scene personally was after my scuffle with Mercy. My stomach churned. I grit my teeth against my fears. My brothers were the only family I had left, and the past year was showing me just how ruthless and unpredictable the world could be.

  “I’ll take the church,” I said.

  “No skin off my back. The guy in the alleyway has my name written all over it,” Gabe grinned.

  “Are you sure?” Ethan asked, watching me for signs of wavering resolve.

  I could understand why they didn’t think I’d want it, but the reason it made my stomach churn was the same reason that I couldn’t stay away. Cassie hit a raw nerve. I saw myself in her in a visceral way. I felt it in my bones. She reflected my childhood back to me in a more dramatic, pained, and tangible way than I’d been willing to face for a long time. Despite the circumstances of her upbringing being significantly different, the basic components were still the same. She was lonely because she was different, and so was I.

  With Father Lewis, it was hazier. I hadn’t quite figured it all out yet. We were both people with hard lives who had to learn to thrive in adversity, but there was something else there too. Maybe I saw my father in him. With my mother, my feelings were more straightforward. Her frequent spats with me were obvious, and the conflict of who I was and who she wanted me to be was always front and center. With my father, I’d never quite made out the feelings hidden beneath the admiration. There was some sort of slow-burning pain there, both begging and waiting to be named.

  “Completely,” I said.

  We stared each other down, neither of us willing to budge. I wasn’t going to let him talk me out of this, not when so much was hanging in the balance. I needed answers, more than I’d willingly admit. When he saw no signs of wavering resolve, he caved. This time I’d won.

  “Call me if you change your mind,” he sighed.

  “I won’t,” I said, already halfway out the door.