“Yeah. Not so much anymore, but enough to keep me in some kind of shape.” He looks good. Definitely in shape. I remember he used to hit the gym regularly too, and it looks like that’s still part of his routine. Joe’s tall, but not too. Six feet maybe. His hair is still thick, mostly gray, but it suits him. His eyes are the same as I remember. He’s got the kind of eyes with irises so dark they meld with the pupils, giving him an intense look that’s eked confessions out of hundreds of bad guys. His cheeks are slightly sunken, though—too much work and worry as well as years, I guess. A thin scar runs from his ear to nearly the corner of his mouth. He mentioned last time we were together something about a knife fight years ago, but he didn’t seem to want to elaborate. Still, he’s a handsome man.

At the time of our last meeting, he’d been divorced about six months. Ed and I’d split up years earlier. Joe and I’d spent the evening drinking, and I’d spent the night in his hotel room. Not professional, I admit, but things sometimes happen. The memory brings another blush to my face, and I’m glad it’s dark in here.

Our drinks arrive, which is timely, a pinot noir for me and a draft for Joe. I lower my eyes and sip. “How are your kids?” I ask.

“Great. My daughter got married last summer.” He smiles. “She’s a nurse. They live in Stowe. Both big-time skiers. She’s happy.”

“Great.” I remember him talking about his daughter.

“My son’s a finance executive in New York.” Joe raises his eyebrows. “Neither kid was interested in law enforcement.”

“I wonder why?” I smirk and take another big sip of my wine.

Joe scratches the back of his neck. Sighs. He’d seldom been home when his kids were little, and his wife had finally had it, a common enough story in our line of work. “It’s been a whirlwind, hasn’t it?” he says. “When I started as a rookie cop almost forty years ago, I could never have imagined lasting this long.”

“Me neither,” I say. But that’s not true. From the moment I put on the uniform, I knew I’d found my home. My brother Jimmy had wanted to be a cop. He, Danny, and I were the youngest of the McMahon kids and spent a lot of time playing together. Cops and robbers was one of our favorite pastimes. They always made me be the robber, and I’ve probably been arrested more times than your average real criminal. Anyway, Jimmy died before he was old enough for the dream to become a reality, and I kind of picked up the mantle. I sometimes feel as if I’m living life for both of us.