“I’m not sure if you know how you sound, Detective.” Monroe smiled. “That ghost?”

I pulled up my shirt and turned in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle. “Just in case you think I’m wired,” I said. “This is just you and me. Like on that rooftop at the school. When you asked me to kill a man who was your enemy.”

Monroe got up from the director’s chair and took off his jacket.

“Well, you did pull the trigger, Detective.”

“And you gave the order, Governor. But the crazy thing is—what I found is bigger than Harrington.”

“Whatever you think you know, Marsh—”

“Voter fraud,” I said.

“Oh, please.”

“Unfair state bidding practices.”

“There is no proof that—”

“Highway contracts,” I continued. “Bribery. Corruption. And not just you. Your nephews. Your father, Cliff,” I said. “Your guy has the papers on all these. He got them from Kelly Borland, the art teacher. So I don’t know what game you’re playing denying this. I have them all.”

The governor’s blink rate had tripled in the last minute, and his mouth was open. I could see his eyes, doing the math on this and not liking what the calculations said.

“Harrington wasn’t writing an article, Governor,” I said. “He was writing a book. About you.”

Monroe was gripping the back of the director’s chair, and his knuckles were white. “I can make this right,” he said.

“I don’t think so.”

“You and I have always come to an agreement. After that mess last December, we made great progress on race relations. I had corporations reaching out to Mason Falls. Donating time. Staff.”

“You know what?” I made a hissing noise with my nose. “Three hours ago, I wouldn’t have even given a shit. You think any of what you’ve done surprises me?”

The governor squinted. Trying to comprehend what had changed.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“I got to the end of Harrington’s pile of shit on you . . . and found your holdings,” I said. “Your investments. He broke down every partnership.” I held up the piece of paper. “Fifty percent ownership in FJF Investments.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Let me refresh your memory,” I said. “You own part of a liquor store.”

A knock at the door.

“Tammy, just wait,” the governor hollered.

“The Golden Oaks,” I said. “From what I understand, it posted quite a profit in 2016. And in 2017. Not so much after the drug sales stopped.”

“Detective, if you think I know every investment in my—”

“Jesus, you cannot stop yourself. Trying to lie your way out of everything.”

I pulled out my Glock. Laid it on the counter near the makeup. I wanted him to see my weapon. To understand what I was capable of.

Now Monroe glanced at the door, perhaps worried that he had shooed everyone away.

“It’s always about pressure with you,” I said. “And you had Lauten Hartley under your thumb, just like you had me.”

“Who?”

I looked at my Glock, and Monroe held up his hands, palms out. “I didn’t know about it when it happened, okay? I promise.”