“Fine, and I never said you had to. But if you want inside access, you don’t really have a choice.”

I felt my face get hot. I imagined myself filling from bottom to top with ragey rusty starbursts. It was like he’d lost his personality when he lost his memory. I took a breath and pressed my palms onto the counter to calm myself. I did not do vulnerable well, but it was starting to look like I had no choice. “Please, Chris,” I said. “I know you don’t remember bending rules for me before. And I know you don’t want to bend them now. But I’m desperate. I need your help. I think my dad might have had something to do with killing my mom. I have to know.”

We locked eyes for a long moment, and I saw his resolve melt away, draining the rust out of the air and replacing it with the blue-gray of protection, the yellow of . . . well, of Chris Martinez. He came back and sat next to me again.

I took a chance and placed my hand over his. I instantly felt the blazing rainbow I always felt when I touched him—my body feeling light and floaty, like I was sliding down an indigo stripe.

“If you . . . if we find something, you can reopen the case. I won’t stop you, even if he is my dad. Imagine how it would feel to come back to work after all you’ve been through and bust open an eleven-year-old case. You’d be a fucking hero.”

He gave a disgusted headshake, but even I knew it was only for show. My heart thumped with happiness.

“Jesus, you pile it on when you’re desperate. What do you need?”

Relief. “Eleven years ago, my mom was murdered. My dad was a suspect. He was questioned. I need you to find his file.” Chris pulled on his beer, thinking. I leaned forward so I could look up into his face. “He was the only suspect, Chris. I need to know why.” I need to know if I can provide the missing evidence, I didn’t say, because the thought of those words leaving my mouth scared the hell out of me.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll look.”

I pumped my fist, celebratory, and he cut me off with one hand. “I’ll look,” he repeated. “I’m not promising anything.”

“I never asked for promises,” I said. When he turned to gulp his beer again, I wrapped my arms around him and gave him the quickest squeeze.