“Ruth owned up to it all this evening. I saw her trying to hide a tin in our bathroom. I caught her red-handed, and I made her open it up. It was filled with drugs and money.”

I can literally see heat reddening Sully’s face. He’s a policeman, bottom line, and I know it. He won’t be able to let this one go.

“Okay, this is getting out of hand. You have to see that. This is dangerous, Alex.” He stares at me for longer than I’d like. Can he see the moves I’m making?

“If I report it officially,” I say, “Ruth will get in trouble. She can’t go to prison while she’s pregnant. You know what that will be like. We have to think of the baby.”

“You will report it to us officially”—his voice is firm—“and you’ll tell Morris.”

“Morris?” I gape. For all my incredulity, I’ve had this conversation a hundred times in my head. This conversation and all the next ones.

“Ruth’s out of control!” Sully sits forward on his chair. “She shouldn’t be anywhere near guys like Eli Beck. She shouldn’t be bringing drugs or drug money into your home. There’s more than you and Ruth to consider. There’s a baby. You know this—and I get that it’s complicated when it’s your own family—but telling Morris now is the right thing to do.”

“Is it?” I ask doubtfully, as if I’ve never once considered the notion.

“Listen to me: Morris trusts you to do your job. They’ll be all over you when this blows up—you know how this works. You have a duty to Ruth’s child, Alex.”

“That’s true.”

“We protect the ones we can. You know I’m right about this.”

It’s like the clicking of cogs: all the pieces falling into place, the whole wheel turning so smoothly. I knew it would go like this. I’ve known it since I first opened the lid of that coffee tin, but I make sure to nod slowly, as if I’m ingesting this new idea fully. “Maybe I’ll outline my concerns to Morris in an email?”

Sully smiles sadly. “I think that’s a good plan.”

“Please don’t report her to the police just yet. I’m asking you as a friend. As my closest friend.”

He looks down at both of our hands, curves his fingers softly so that they match the shape of mine. “I think that under-describes me. Don’t you?”

I sigh, lean in. “I hate all this.”

“Me too.” He wants to kiss me—but he’s battling it. “I’ll hold off saying anything for now. But not for long. We have to deal with this.”

I nod and find tears coming to my eyes. “It’s just hard. She’s my sister.”