She was slouching into the corner of the sofa again, drinking her wine; she had lost interest. I took a breath. “I try to understand why I’m having a bad day, so I can fix it. I focus on the positive.”

“Right. So if Broken Harbor was so great and you have all these great memories and everything’s so positive, then why is it wrecking your head going back there?”

“I never said it was.”

“You don’t need to say it. You shouldn’t be doing this case.”

It felt like salvation, to be having the same old fight, back on familiar ground, with that slantwise glitter waking in Dina’s eyes again. “Dina. It’s a murder case, just like all the dozens of others I’ve worked. There’s nothing special about it, except the location.”

“Location location location, what are you, an estate agent? This location is bad for you. I could tell the second I saw you the other night, you were all wrong; you smelled funny, like something burning. Look at you now, go look in mirrors, you look like something shat on your head and set you on fire. This case is fucking you up. Phone your work tomorrow and tell them you’re not doing it.”

In that instant I almost told her to fuck off. It astonished me, how suddenly and how hard the words slammed up against my lips. I have never, in all my adult life, said anything like that to Dina.

I said, when I could be sure that my voice was wiped empty of any hint of anger, “I’m not going to give up this case. I’m sure I do look like shit, but that’s because I’m exhausted. If you want to do something about that, stay put at Geri’s.”

“I can’t. I’m worried about you. Every second you’re out there thinking about that location, I can feel it making your head go bad. That’s why I came back here.”

The irony was enough to make anyone howl with laughter, but Dina was dead serious: bolt upright on the sofa, legs folded under her, ready to fight me all the way. I said, “I’m fine. I appreciate you looking out for me, but there’s no need. Seriously.”

“Yes there is. You’re just as much of a mess as I am. You just hide it better.”

“Maybe. I’d like to think I’ve put in enough work that I’m not actually a mess at this point, but who knows, maybe you’re right. Either way, the upshot is that I’m well able to deal with this case.”

“No. No way. You like thinking you’re the strong one, that’s why you love when I go off the rails, because it makes you feel all Mr. Perfect, but it’s bullshit. I bet sometimes when you’re having a bad day you hope I’ll show up on your doorstep talking crap, just so you’ll feel better about yourself.”

Part of the hell of Dina is that even when you know it’s rubbish, even when you know it’s the dark corroded spots on her mind talking, it still stings. I said, “I hope you know that’s not true. If I could help you get better by having an arm amputated, I’d do it like a shot.”