ZEKE MET CATE IN THE FOYER when she arrived at the DEA offices downtown a little after 3:00 a.m., courtesy of a lift from a County patrol officer.

After one comprehensive sweep, the best he could say about her was that she was still on her feet.

But based on her pallor, the unsteadiness in her bruised and scratched fingers, and the stiff posture that suggested every movement hurt, she shouldn’t be.

She ought to be at an urgent care center, an ER—or home in bed.

The hug he longed to give her would have to be deferred yet again unless he wanted to risk hurting her more.

Instead, he bent down and brushed his lips over hers.

She didn’t back off.

In fact, she leaned into the kiss.

And when he held out his hand, she twined her fingers with his.

Silent, charged seconds passed as they stood in the postmidnight, unnatural quiet of a space that teemed with activity during daylight hours.

“You shouldn’t have come. You look dead on your feet.”

She offered him a smile that seemed forced. “I can sleep later. I wanted to be here for Wilson’s interview. I’m still trying to come to grips with the fact that he could be the mastermind. Have you talked with him yet?”

“No. We had processing to do first. We’re about ready to begin, though. I’ve got a spot saved for you in the monitoring room.”

“Thanks for letting me sit in.”

“An easy sell. We wouldn’t have him if it hadn’t been for you. Would you like water or a Diet Sprite first?”

“No thanks. The people at the house I found gave me three cups of hot chocolate.”

“Are you hungry? I could raid the vending machines.”

“I have energy bars.” She patted her pocket. “But I’m more hungry for answers.”

“Then let’s see if we can get some.” He walked toward the door that led from the foyer to the interview rooms at the back of the building—but didn’t relinquish her hand. “How’s Kayla?”

“Being treated as we speak at the ER. I talked with her a few minutes ago. She’ll be fine—physically anyway. Bring me up to speed on what’s been happening here.”

He’d rather take her home—but Cate was a force to be reckoned with when she was close to solving a case, and he was as convinced as she was that someone in this building was responsible for the fate of Stephanie and her boyfriend . . . or knew who’d killed them.

As they walked toward the monitoring room, he briefed her.

After he finished, she cocked her head. “So Hernandez appears to have spilled everything he knows, but Jones hasn’t given you anything worthwhile yet.”