Doyle leaned down a bit awkwardly, given his height, in order to press their foreheads together. “I’m alive. You’re alive. And better still, I didn’t blow that human-sized piece of shit into next week, so they’re gonna patch him up and then we can question him to our hearts’ content. Ask him why he stopped with the Polaroids. Why he transitioned to cast iron when it meant forging the mask at work and taking a huge chance with his safety. How many victims, where he left them, what their names were…. Evie, you caught this sick son-of-a-bitch red-handed.” Doyle straightened his posture a bit. “In the closet there was a gym bag full of the cast-iron masks. I think he didn’t go out the window when you heard the lock, because the first cruiser had already pulled up. He was a caged animal.”

Larkin quietly considered this.

Doyle drew his fingers through Larkin’s hair a few times. “Jessica Lopez is still alive. That bat is likely the original murder weapon used against all those women and Andrew. Three days ago, no one knew who Andrew Gorman even was, now he’s going to get the justice he deserves. Please tell me you understand that you’ve done something incredible?”

Larkin nodded. He looked up when Doyle dropped his hand. “I wouldn’t have been able to without you.”

Doyle sighed and rolled his shoulders. “Listen.”

“Nothing good ever begins with listen.”

“I came back here because on my way out, I saw Noah in the waiting room. Obviously, the hospital gave him a ring. But I thought, maybe you’d appreciate knowing in advance. And that….” Doyle rubbed a hand over his mouth, tugged his lower lip, bit his thumbnail. “Given the circumstances, I’d understand if you went home. With him. I mean, he’s your husband, right?”

“On paper.”

“Well, you’re going to be out of commission for a bit, so I’m not entirely sure that sticking it to Noah right now is the best thing.”

“I’ll rent a hotel room when they discharge me.”

“Evie—”

“No,” Larkin interrupted. “I broke my arm. I’ll be fine. I don’t need a caretaker who’ll, in the next forty-eight hours, find a way to twist this whole situation on its head and convince me everything is my fault. It took me years to come to last night’s realization about our relationship, and I know… I know right now, up here,” he said, tapping his forehead with his good hand, “I’m too fragile for whatever he’s going to throw at me.”

“All right.” Doyle appeared to have nothing else to say about Noah. He finished fixing Larkin’s part with his fingers. “Can I make a suggestion? One that I want you to say no to, if that’s what you need.”

Larkin raised his head. “Okay.”