“I appreciate that, Tate.”

That should have been the end of it, but Reed knew that Lyle would be sticking his nose in. Reed had to always think ahead—a burden his partner needn’t care about.

Now, as he poured a pint for one of his regulars, it grated on Reed’s nerves that Spud held no appreciation for the heavy lifting that Reed had to do. Spud didn’t have to calculate the moves of Bolger or Lyle. Spud didn’t have to pour drinks till two in the fucking morning. Spud didn’t have to put on performances to deflect suspicion. He could make all the damned noise he wanted to, waking Reed up at the butt-crack of dawn. He could sit at the cabin and play with Pip all day. What did it matter to him? Didn’t he realize that Reed needed his sleep? Their lives depended on Reed being sharp.

And the whispers—the fucking whispers—they would sneak around, whispering and giggling. Reed was sure that he had heard his name mentioned in hushed tones on more than one occasion. They shut up when he walked in the room, but as soon as he turned his back again, he heard the stss, stss, stss. And if they weren’t whispering, they were off in the woods. Pip had seemed cold, distant, when they came back that morning. He’d barely looked at Reed. What was Spud telling the boy? What kind of lies was he putting in Pip’s head? It’s like Sandy all over again.

But now was not the time to deal with Spud. Spud was an idiot, but he was a useful idiot and Reed needed him—for now. While Reed kept up appearances in town, Spud needed to keep the boy hidden. In a few weeks the heat would be off and Reed could leave Grand Rapids without raising any eyebrows. That’s when he would deal with Spud.

CHAPTER 17

Max knew a lot about Niki Vang, having been her partner in Homicide for three years. Her parents had escaped from Vietnam before Niki was born, crossing over the mountains into Thailand and landing in a refugee camp. That’s where Niki was born. She came to America as an infant and grew up with one foot in each culture.

Max knew that Niki loved music but couldn’t sing. He knew that she preferred burgers and fries to Asian food, a secret that she kept from her proud Hmong mother. And he knew where she parked when she came to work. So that morning, Max sat on a short wall alongside the path he knew she would take to City Hall, hoping that his old partner might be in a forgiving mood.

When she arrived, he noticed she had trimmed her hair, wearing it just off her shoulders, her bangs grown out and swept to the side of her face. She was attractive, but Max knew that nothing pissed Niki off more than being judged by her appearance. The new cut gave her an air of maturity, but she still looked younger than her thirty-eight years.