Ellie’s face flushed in embarrassment. “Right, yes. Yes, of course.” She stepped back and held the door open for him. “Please come in.”

“Why, thank you.”

Kelly had traded his suit and tie for loafers, a white polo, and a pair of khakis with a razor-sharp pleat. The cold and mechanical exterior he had displayed this afternoon had been replaced by something more relaxed and agreeable. Ellie shut the front door, feeling certain he hadn’t come here to deliver bad news or interrogate her; he had lackeys for that. She suspected he needed something from her—something important. A favor, maybe.

Ellie felt herself relax a bit. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He eyed the whiskey bottle on the breakfast bar almost lovingly. “Thank you, but no,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? There’s plenty.”

“I’m in recovery, which is a more polite way of saying I’m a boozehound. But please, don’t deny yourself on my account.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Kelly let loose a bark of a laugh. It erased a good decade off his face.

She didn’t know why she had said those words; they had simply rolled off her tongue, uncensored. It probably had something to do with the booze and the fact that, whatever this was about, she had the home court advantage. She hadn’t been brought to his office and called out on the carpet, and he had come here alone, all of which reinforced the notion that he needed something from her.

Ellie motioned to the sofa and took the armchair. She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her lap.

“What do you need from me, Commissioner?”

“Straight to it.”

“Saves time.”

Kelly considered her for a beat. Outside, she could hear the ticking of his cooling truck engine.

“Gingerbread Man,” he said. “Did he get a good look at you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Think about it for a moment.”

“I did, while I was at the hospital,” Ellie said. “I was wearing sunglasses and my cap, so no, I don’t think he got a good look at me. Why?”

“Are you a carrier?”

The question surprised her.

“Yes, I know it’s unethical to ask you that question,” Kelly said. “But since I’m asking in the context of your job, I believe I might have some wiggle room.”

“My job? I don’t understand.”

“Ellie—may I call you Ellie?”

“Of course.”

“Today you made it a point of showing me just how badly you want a spot on the Blood Unit. I came here tonight to find out why.”

“I explained that to you already.”

“I think it’s something more than that.” Kelly’s gaze felt as penetrating as an X-ray. “Something more . . . personal.”

The upstairs room with the picture of her brother, the drawers stuffed with the files of missing carriers, her off-the-clock research—all of it flashed through her mind and fear raised the hammers in her heart. He knows, Ellie thought. Somehow he’s found out about my brother, my real life, everything.