All of which could cost me my badge.

I got off the elevator at three.

Walking down the hall, I practiced coming clean to Remy about how I’d lied to her four months ago.

Remember this spring, Rem? When you wondered how I found that assassin we were hunting? Found him so quickly? I had a helper. The same guy who encouraged me to kill Harrington yesterday: Governor Toby Monroe.

I knocked on Remy’s door and heard a muffled voice. I was so anxious I paced sideways to keep myself from flying away.

I need to tell you something, Rem. Something that’s gonna make you mad as hell. But I gotta be honest, regardless of what you’ll do to me.

The door swung open, and I saw Darren Gattling, the blue-suiter who worked with us, standing in a T-shirt and boxers. His dark biceps looked more muscular than when he was in uniform.

Gattling’s head dropped. “Aw hell,” he said.

Remy appeared behind him, in black leggings and a workout top.

“Hey,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

I was ready to spill the beans on my relationship with Governor Monroe. And my partner was—what? Hooking up with a patrolman?

Remy was the one who asked the boss to put Gattling on our team yesterday. Which made this a bad look, sleeping with him. Someone of a lower rank, reporting to me and her.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was looking to see if—”

Remy looked to Gattling. “Darren,” she said. He walked away from the door.

I gave her a look. “Jesus, Rem.”

Remy blew air up from her mouth, and it whipped the pieces of her straightened hair away from her eyes, spreading her bangs right and left. “We grabbed a drink, and it just happened,” she said.

I nodded, no longer sure I could go through with my speech. Not with Gattling standing fifteen feet away. “I needed to talk to you about something,” I said. “I tried to call and text, but . . . tomorrow, I guess . . . would be better.”

I turned, and Remy followed me down the hall.

“P.T.,” she said.

I put my hands up, spinning to face Remy as I walked backward, away from her. “Between the shit I’ve pulled that you know about,” I said, “and the stuff you don’t . . . you’re the last person who needs to explain yourself to me.”

“It won’t happen again,” she promised.

I pressed the elevator button, and the door slid open. The elevator had a chandelier inside it. I always liked that about this building.

My silence was more about me losing momentum. My nerve to tell Remy everything was gone.

I got in the elevator and left.

10

When I got home, it was almost midnight.

I walked up to the front door and noticed it was ajar.

Had I left the door open in a rush to go out to Remy’s?

My service weapon was in my safe in the bedroom, and I used the toe of my sneaker to push open the front door.