I can’t have my answers right away. Nazarin has been called back to the Ratel, and they’re still performing the autopsy report. We’ve returned to the gingerbread safe house, and I’m alone for most of the day. I work out and practice the fight sequences that I’ve brainloaded. I order a lonely meal from the replicator, barely tasting it. I take a long shower, turning the water up as hot as I can bear, staring at my toes. First, I try to read, then I try to watch something on the wallscreen, but I take nothing in. I end up wandering the empty rooms, staring blankly into space, numb.

Mia is gone. The woman who took me and my sister in. The woman who helped us navigate our brave new world of San Francisco. She was flawed, she was deeply troubled, but she loved us, and we loved her. Now she’s gone. I wonder if they told Tila, and what she’s thinking, wherever she is.

When Nazarin returns, late that night, he has the autopsy report. He lays the tablet on the kitchen table and we perch next to each other on stools. We still haven’t talked properly about what happened, but I don’t want to anymore.

“They warned me it’s inconclusive,” he tells me. “They’re not going to incinerate her right away.”

I jerk my shoulders up at that. I can’t stand the thought of her turned into nothing but ash.

“Sorry. I’ve been told I can be insensitive in times of loss. When I had a partner, she was usually the one to break any news like this.”

“Yeah, you’re not being remotely comforting here. Why don’t you have a partner anymore?” I can’t believe it’s never occurred to me to ask. I also don’t want to look at the autopsy report just yet, so I’m stalling.

“She died. Not long before I went undercover. Right now, you’re the closest to a partner I have.” He looks away from me, but there’s a tension in his muscles that wasn’t there a moment before.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Were you two … close?”

He raises an eyebrow. “We weren’t fucking, if that’s what you mean.”

I don’t react, though of course, his words make me think about him without his clothes. It’s a nice mental image.

“She was actually married to Dr. Mata,” he continues. “That’s how I met Kim. But yeah, we were close. And she was a damn good detective. We cracked a lot of cases together. Put a lot of bastards away. One got away and killed her.”

“Did you catch him?”