“Gee, that’s too bad, Jules.” He ruffled the top of her head as if she were a little girl. “Tough luck, huh?” He picked up his mobile, his fingers moving over the screen. “What was your friend’s name?”

She felt a clutch in her stomach. “She … It’s not important.”

“It might help me find…” He looked up. “I mean, there’s no police record of a female being shot to death in the last twenty-four hours.” He turned the mobile so she could see the screen. “Jules, are you sure this happened?”

“What?”

“I mean that you didn’t—you know—imagine it.”

“What? You think I’m a two-year-old with night terrors?”

He shrugged, waggled the mobile in front of her. “I’m just saying.”

She looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. He’d been happy to cry on her shoulder every night, but now, when she needed him, he was treating her like a child, anxious for no good reason. “It happened, Orrin, and now nowhere feels safe anymore.”

“Well, come on now, kiddo, don’t be silly.” He held up a finger. “Hold that thought. Gotta answer this text.” When he had finished he looked up. “Now where were we? Oh, yeah.” He waved a hand at her. “Your apartment is as safe as Fort Knox. Nothing’s changed, I promise.” Now he sounded annoyed by rather than disinterested in the interruption of his morning routine.

She shivered. “I can’t warm up.”

“Of course. No, I understand completely.” But he was already glancing at his watch; already, no doubt, toting up his schedule for the day.

The old Julie would have shrunk back, made her apologies, and left with her tail between her legs, feeling kicked to the curb, sick at heart. Heading straight on toward a majorly depressing day. But this was the new Julie, the one who had donned the latex hood, the one who had lived through a scene from The Story of O, whom Sydny had taught a thing or three about the nature of sex and power.

This new Julie said, “Listen, Orrin, I need a place to stay for a while.”

“What?” His head came up from answering another text, and he frowned deeply. “Well, I dunno, Jules. I mean this is my busy time at the AG’s—important cases pending, lots on my mind…”

“I’ll be no trouble, cross my heart.”

“I’m sure.” He didn’t sound sure at all. “But, no, sorry. Jesus, if Bridget ever found out…” He allowed his voice to trail off, the shit, as if confident that she would supply the words he didn’t have the courage to say.

She didn’t. She wouldn’t.

Instead, she rose off the stool, padded to where he stood, so close to him she could smell the sweat drying on his skin. She took the mobile from his hand, toggled it off.