Hicks walked away without another word; the cops wandered away, too, getting back to real business. Ben had called ahead, cashing in a favor, and he hadn’t done it for Jung, he’d done it for me. Cop favors were precious commodities. A cop never knew when he or she would need an assist from another cop, personal or professional. You didn’t squander favors on foolishness. Jung had reeled me into using up one of Ben’s, and I was seething by the time he was walked down to me ninety minutes later, dressed in a black T-shirt, black cargo pants, and neon lime running shoes with bright yellow laces. A favor had been done, but that didn’t mean the cops had to make it all sunshine and lollipops. There had to be at least a little suffering. I was so angry I didn’t trust myself to speak to him, and so we walked in silence out to my car.

“Let me explain,” he said as he slid onto the passenger seat.

“Not one word,” I hissed, my jaw tightly clenched. “Not a single syllable.”

And that’s all either of us said the entire way to Jung’s place. Pushing the speed limit, I got there in record time. When Jung got out, I barely looked at him as he lingered at the door, as though he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start.

“I know you’re mad, but listen,” he said. “You’re right. I kept some major things back when I talked to you at first. I knew how it looked, and I didn’t want you jumping to the wrong conclusion, and you would have, because the police did, and sorry to say it, you think like they do.”

I slid him a sideways look, but kept my mouth shut.

“But I don’t care what Stephen said. Tim wasn’t some basket case that you had to keep eyes on. I wanted a look at the cops’ report, is that so bad? I don’t have your connections. Sneaking in was the only way I was going to get it. That’s all.”

I listened as his voice cracked with emotion, and some of my mad melted away. My hand still gripped the steering wheel, though. I wasn’t completely sure I wouldn’t still throttle him.