Emi lowers her head and her voice without losing any force behind her words. “Your dad’s death confirmed the attacks are organized, but the whole thing got swept under the rug. There were plenty of people working with your dad who could’ve taken over the case, but they were either scared away or bought off. The one intern who did pursue it ended up dead. Another supposed suicide. And the whole world went back to believing that gangs were behind the Swarm all along. You and I both know that means there are some people pretty high up in this city who wanted this thing to go away two years ago. Those people haven’t disappeared.”

“You just put a giant target on my back!”

Emi’s face tightens. Her eyes flash. “Get over yourself and this naïve woe-is-me routine. I brought your story to the national market and expanded your audience. Because of me, millions of people are interested in what happens to you.”

“They’re interested in a juicy story—not me.”

“They are interested in whether you live or die, which is all that matters.”

She sounds like Cullen, glorifying public opinion.

Emi leans in and narrows her heavily lined eyes. “If something happens to you, the nation will not ignore that. They’ll have questions and want answers. Whoever’s in charge of the Death Mob knows that. That’s the best protection you’re going to get. Never mind the target I put on my back by putting you in this position.”

I feel my face flush. “So now this is about you?”

“What? They can silence a prosecuting attorney, but a news reporter is off limits? You poor little Gold Coast white girl. You still don’t get it.” She throws her hand out as she makes her point. I think of the beat reporter who was stabbed. Dumped in the river.

“This is bigger than you. An entire community has been vilified, scapegoated. The fire at the Latino community center. The church vandalism—smashed windows, spray paint all over the alter. Racial profiling is running rampant in this city. All because someone blamed these murders on a Latino gang.”

I struggle to process everything she’s saying. Everything I missed. “I didn’t know.”

“Try reading an article that doesn’t have your name in it.”

She’s right. I didn’t know it was happening. I’ve not spoken out about what I saw. I’ve been quiet. To protect myself. But in doing so, innocent people—beyond the city’s gangs—are suffering the repercussions of my silence. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I don’t know what to say.

Emi takes a deep breath and claps her hands together as if praying. Only there’s nothing divine about her. “I knew your father. I admired him and what he stood for . . .”