“There it is!” Sam said, laughing.

“I can believe he’d do that!”

“Peter worked my disappointment to his advantage. Wormed his way in by pretending to be my friend. Eventually, Nick gave up on me.” She looked over to find Freddie hanging on her every word. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I’d tried to call him rather than just accepting he hadn’t called me. Can you imagine how different the last six years would’ve been for me—and him?”

“No bombs, no restraining orders…”

She smiled. “Exactly. When I was married, I’d take these mental vacations and allow myself to remember that one perfect night with Nick. It would get me through, you know? It made me so sad to think he hadn’t called.”

“Wow, that really sucks.”

“Do you understand why I’m telling you this?”

“Ahhh, is it because all this talk of weddings has made you go soft?”

Sam punched his arm lightly. “Don’t spend years pining away for the woman you love when all you have to do is pick up the phone.”

“I get it, and I appreciate you sharing that with me. I had no idea. I knew you’d met Nick a long time ago, but not all that about Peter. That guy is such a scumbag.”

“You won’t get any argument from me on that. So you’ll think about what I said?”

Freddie nodded. “Thank you.”

“Tell you what. I’ll let Shelby know you’re coming with a guest—just in case.”

“But what if—”

Sam rested her hand on his arm. “Either way, it’s fine. With or without. It’s up to you.” She glanced at the dilapidated row houses. “Let’s talk to Gardner.”

As they approached the house, Sam noticed it was the best-looking place on the run-down block. It boasted a fresh coat of white paint and bushes rather than the trash that collected in front of the neighboring houses.

“Nice place,” Freddie said. “For this neighborhood.”

“What do you want?”

Sam looked up to the second-floor window where Gardner had a gun trained on them. “Fuck,” she muttered. Through the window Gardner had cracked open, Sam heard a baby begin to cry. The sound sent a cold chill down her spine as she reached for her weapon.

“What do you want?”

Sam flashed her badge. “We’d like to speak to you about an incident two years ago.” Sam made an effort to keep her voice calm. “December of 2008.”

“What incident?”

“Shooting on G Street. A cop was hit.”

“I don’t know nothing about that.”

“You once lived in a house owned by Gerald Price?” Sam rattled off the address.

“Yeah, so?”

The baby’s cries were getting louder, which ramped up Sam’s anxiety. “We found items in the house referring to the shooting. Newspaper clippings, reports, photos.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”