“But she was strangled on the west side of the park,” said Zoe plunging forward, unable to stop herself. “I was out for a run this morning and when I left the building, I saw all these flashing lights and squad cars. Then I ran up Central Park West and there were even more police. I saw this crowd so I went over and talked to the officer on duty who was securing the crime scene. I asked him if he thought it was the West Side Strangler because it seemed to me that it was a possibility and I—”

“You did what?” said Conner, anger creeping into his voice. “You stuck your nose into another police investigation? We’ve been down this road so many times. Zoe, you’ve got a real problem. If there’s a crime in New York, you can’t keep your hands off of it.”

“But I was going for a run. Is it my fault the murder happened right near our apartment?”

“If it happened in Brooklyn, you’d have found your way there. Hell, if it happened in LA, you’d be on a plane.”

“That’s totally unfair,” said Zoe, taking a big swig of her bourbon.

“Last year, you looked at a confidential FBI case file in my bag and nearly screwed up an entire six-month long FBI investigation. Do you know what would have happened if anyone had found out? I could have lost my job and who knows what else.”

“I know. I know,” said Zoe, swirling the ice in the glass and taking another sip. “But you didn’t lose your job and I’ve apologized for that a million times.”

“Are you drinking bourbon again?” said Conner suspiciously.

“Why do you ask that?” said Zoe, looking around for hidden cameras.

“Because you sound a little wonky and I heard ice banging against glass.”

“I’m having an iced tea,” said Zoe, her eyes round as she put her glass down on the coffee table.

“Do you remember what Dr. Eisdorfer said? How you needed to get control over yourself and stop making things up. No more obsessing over crimes or secret plots that may or may not have happened. I think maybe you should go back into therapy.”

“I don’t need therapy,” said Zoe, her voice getting more animated. “I’m fine. Don’t make me out to be crazy. A woman was murdered in the park only a few blocks from our apartment. Everyone in New York is talking about it. It’s front-page news, Conner. I’m not allowed to talk about a murder that happened right near my home when everyone else in the city is?”

“That’s the problem. You don’t just talk about it, you live it. You investigate it. You get in the middle of things you shouldn’t be involved in. It’s not normal.”